tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66417283325947170932024-02-07T14:01:46.990-08:00Bliss in the Mundanecaygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-26332374174006028602013-04-02T10:14:00.001-07:002013-04-02T12:10:32.587-07:00This is GraysenThis is Graysen. He is Graysen first and foremost.<br />
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He is funny, kind, smart, and truly magical. If you are lucky enough to hear him giggle, it's musical, and it will make your heart float.<br />
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Graysen works hard to understand this world. He doesn't often understand people's actions, facial expressions or tone. His world is black and white, and yet he sees things I miss. He is brave, he is strong, he loves with his whole heart and we are so very proud of the person he is becoming.<br />
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As his mom, I celebrate him, and I try to enjoy every second of his childhood. Sometimes, I worry about what the adult world holds for him. I worry about understanding for him, because as a child his quirks, his meltdowns, his challenges, sit on a sliding scale of understanding. He still rests on the line of understanding, but as each year passes, his peers mature in some areas that will always be a struggle for him. That understanding falters because Graysen doesn't have a flashing light on his head to request understanding. All he has is his hard work, and the tools we give him, to navigate this world when he gets to that age where understanding falls off.<br />
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This is Graysen, our #magicman, he is a bright joyful light, and he has Autism. Today, don't just look at the blue lights around the world. Sure they are there to bring awareness to Autism, but as Graysen's mom, as someone who loves a lot of amazing humans who just happen to be Autistic, take a minute to learn and understand instead of just being aware. Take a minute to see what these kids can do, and understand that while they may be different, they are absolutely not less. #autism #asd #worldautismday <br />
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caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-23095260690529010872013-01-24T13:41:00.000-08:002013-01-24T13:56:23.244-08:00Under PressureEvery year about this time, I go underground for a little while. My time is spent volunteering for a youth theatre company in some large and unbalanced fashion. Theatre, is a passion of mine, and being able to work with kids that are truly amazing, is a gift.<br />
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Within this volunteer time, lies a lot of sleep deprivation, some fairly high stress levels and perhaps a few tears. Aside from that, there is also laughter, beauty in the chaos, and working with some truly devoted, awesome human beings.<br />
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It is said that there is no true selfless act. That broken down, everything we do, no matter how philanthropic, pays us back personally in some way, and it rings true to me. Not only do I gain inspiration from these kids and the people working from them, I also gain knowledge. I learn every single year.<br />
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In this life, I want to try to be a better me than the me that came the day before. I want to know myself better, learn more, understand people more, give more. Taking on a new role this year, as stage manager of a large show, learning was absolutely what I did. The me that came ten years before would not have pulled it off. She would have cracked under pressure. She would have made excuses. She would have dug deep down when the going got tough and come up empty. For all the surprises that life has brought, and all the paths unexpected, it has landed me here and this is exactly where I want to be.<br />
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Along the way, there were some triumphs, there were hurdles refused, but there were also some failures. Some moments that during decompression, I look at and make note to choose differently next time.<br />
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Under pressure, there are choices to be made. Always learning, always growing, it is my hope that I will not only choose to find areas where I can adjust and improve my contribution, but also that our children enter this world recognizing that it's okay to err. It's important to take responsibility for what you contribute, and always, always welcome the learning.<br />
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<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-18495990933914682542012-12-11T12:34:00.000-08:002012-12-11T12:34:42.667-08:00WordsIt is a strange thing to find yourself stuck in writing. Not blocked, but rather stuck.<br />
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While life has had us on the go, it seems to me that being stuck really starts and ends with wanting to say something about words, and not really knowing how to encompass all that is swirling around inside my mind.<br />
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To hone in on this topic I find myself inspired by the quote,<br />
"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." -Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2<br />
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In life there are so many opportunities to be responsible with our words. Words can be a gentle comfort or inspiration, they are used to teach and to share. Language holds the power to remedy errors and misleading information, and it also holds the power to spin a web of lies with such intricacy.<br />
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Balancing the positive and negative effect of language has always felt tenuous. Once upon a time, a topic was allowed a cooling off period with the disconnect
of a physical presence. Now, a conversation, a story embellished upon, is
given nutrients to grow and flourish with our ability to tap into the
constant collective of discussions circulating on any one topic at any
time, anywhere. Whether it be an urban myth about copyright protection
of Facebook property, a rumour about a kid at school, a public figure
using derogatory language, or a radio prank gone horribly wrong, we are
all talking about it, and we are reacting instead of reflecting. We are
using words, passionate immediate words, over reflective thoughtful
words. We are not educating, we are attacking with our proverbial
torches and pitchforks and we are being watched. It is striking how online interactions and the social rules that govern them, seem to be relaxing the understanding, and respect of the language used. That feels like the easy answer though. Perhaps it's not that this problem is increasing, but rather it's just becoming more visible as each hasty keystroke carves it's permanent mark on the online collective. <br />
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Words can destroy a life. I thought there was more to add to that, but there isn't. Words can destroy a life. There is a responsibility to communicate with this in mind, and to teach our children this. There is a responsibility to teach those we communicate with, that using words to spread gossip, to spread lies not only damages those spoken against, it has the potential to damage the messenger as well. There is a responsibility to be aware that when someone speaks poorly, or uses language that is hurtful or offensive to us, returning the same ire, builds walls, ends communication and produces noise. Each careless comment, statement and accusation, divides, stealing the value of the language. Each label incorrectly applied,
robs from the label's true definition. While communication is on the rise; listening, and recognizing the weight of the noise, is falling aside.<br />
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Is mindfulness in communication being lost? Is it truly easier to spread a story than to take the time to clarify the information? Is it easier to react in outrage, than to respond with kindness and compassion? <br />
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While it might seem the simple solution is to cut ties with technology, the reality that this new medium is here to stay. Not only do the adults need to learn to use these communication tools effectively and appropriately, we need to teach our children as well. Going back to basics and remembering that "If you wouldn't say it to someone's face, you shouldn't say it to them online." needs to be applied to verbal communications as well. If you wouldn't say something to someone's face, why are you telling someone else about it.<br />
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Perhaps it all comes down to respect and compassion. The erosion of these two ideas started long before technology invaded our communications. For me I am learning every single day. It is a battle to make good choices, to choose my words carefully, and to ensure that I say what I mean and I mean what I say. No one is ever going to get it right all the time, lord know that this momma falls flat on her face on a routine basis, but starting with compassion and respect, putting one foot in front of the other, we can at least head in the right direction.<br />
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Many of us communicate online daily. What rules and ideas do you use to govern your online and spoken communication? What lessons have you learned? I would love to hear your thoughts on this.caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-65986166167688336802012-10-16T11:14:00.000-07:002012-10-16T14:22:17.807-07:00Waspgate 2012It all started with a, "Hmmm that's odd." whisper. The kind of 'odd' that usually launches a Stephen King novel, where somehow, a beat up old car, eventually becomes a monster attacking everyone in sight.<br />
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We came home from our Thanksgiving weekend away to a couple of wasps, hanging out in the front window of the house. "Hmm, that's odd." I said.<br />
See! See, what I mean?<br />
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Then the next day a few more, and a comment from me to the hubby, that it seemed strange and perhaps there was a nest somewhere in the house. He reassured me, that the warmer than normal October, likely had confused these beasts, and while they should have been dying off, they were instead finding their way in, looking for warmth.<br />
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The next day, there were even more, and they seemed to be in the playroom area of the house. We vacuumed them up as we saw them, and looked around again for a nest.<br />
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Finally, on the fourth night, spurred on by a thought that they were getting in somewhere on the side of the house, I went outside with a flashlight and the 13 year old, in search of a nest near the playroom window.<br />
In the dark we saw nothing out of the ordinary, and so I decided to check in the morning.<br />
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The next day I checked downstairs and there were no wasps in the house. I dropped the kids at school, came home, and found fifteen of them on the windows in the playroom.<br />
Now, let's just pause right there....If you have the means and find yourself in this same predicament, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Get your ass to a phone and call a freakin' exterminator. However, if like me, you are a crazy person that thinks that you can take on the world, then please carry on.<br />
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I vacuumed up the wasps and then went outside.<br />
This is what I saw. Those little waspy bastards were flying INTO my house. I do not remember inviting them. I do not recall any rules regarding wasp squatters rights, but dammit, they were flying into my house. Again, most would call a professional at this point, and they would be right. Then there are those wired like yours truly.<br />
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There were A LOT, like seven or eight thousand of them, coming and going from a hole under the soffits of an overhang at the side of our house. Okay, so maybe not thousands, maybe 100, but really, WASPS. Angry, buzzing WASPS, going into the house. Into the playroom where our kids were playing. Going into the playroom, and I had a playdate scheduled at my house afterschool. Oh this would not do.<br />
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I did what any rational human would do, I went to the store and stocked up on ammo. I left the hardware store with a can of expanding foam and a can of 'wasp killa' foam. Aren't I adorable, thinking I could take them down with this.<br />
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I got home, and summoned my best, "I am woman, hear me roar." mindset and got to work. First read the directions. On the spray foam, there was a reminder that the foam would seal itself off after a few moments so plan your spraying before, lay down tarps, wear gloves, etc. Whatever! Gloves! I don't need no stinkin' gloves. I have used this stuff a million times to build props. I got this.<br />
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Figuring out that they were getting into the playroom by some gaps in the heat vents, I made a plan, sortof-ish. I realized that if I was going to attack them from the outside, I would have to seal up their entrance into the house.<br />
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The heating vent had to come off. The heating vent in the ceiling, that was held on by screws. The heating vent, in the ceiling, that was held on by screws, THAT HAD ANGRY WASPS FLYING OUT OF IT. Awesome.<br />
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Getting a ladder, and a square head screw driver, I grabbed the can of spray foam gap sealer, and some courage. As an aside, my hubby works with tools and has taught me the names of the screw drivers. I am totally capable with tools, both hand and power, but remembering the names of the tools i not a priority. I am keeping humans alive people. Keeping humans alive, takes priority over knowing which one is a Phillips and which one is a Robertson head screwdriver. Especially since, when I say, "Can I please have the "plus" or the "square" shaped screwdriver?" people know what I mean.<br />
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Digression, it happens to the best of us. Umm, so, me, on the ladder, making little squeaky scared noises, I gingerly start to unscrew the first screw on the vent, listening for buzzing. Every muscle in my body tense, anticipating that first rogue wasp flying out. At one point the cat jumps onto the table next to me and I scream like Janet Leigh taking a shower in the Bates motel. After what seems like forever I manage to get the thing undone. No wasps. Sigh!<br />
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Prepping the can of spray foam, I position it in the cracks between where the drywall ends and the metal heating duct begins. Knowing I have to work fast, I take a deep breath and start spraying. I start spraying expanding, sticky, gap sealing insulating foam in the gap ON THE CEILING. Good news, gravity still works, and gap sealer is still sticky. While the foam is sealing the gap, it is also falling to the floor. No, sorry, on the laminate floor of the playroom. Remember that little tidbit; plan, lay tarps, wear gloves....yeah.<br />
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Is there time to be concerned with the state of the floor? Hell no, there are killer bees trying to invade my house. For all I know, they could be living in the walls, in our pipes, they could be hunting us while we sleep. There is just no time to worry about floors at a time like this. It's anarchy. Or so it seemed at the moment.<br />
The spray foam fell in clumps on the floor, it fell against the wall. This is me, not caring.<br />
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Step two, I grabbed a plastic bag, and put it over the inside of the plastic heating vent. I filled the cavity of it full of wasp killing insecticide foam and I shoved that vent grate back up into the ceiling, laughing with sheer evil madness. Just trying flying into my house now, you stinking wasps. I closed up the vent, satisfied that their point of entry was blocked and made my way outside.<br />
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Confident they couldn't get in, I aimed that can of insecticide foam at the hole and fired. Again and again, all the way along the seam I fired, and then they came. They came from everywhere, hundreds of them, swarming the hole, trying to get in. As the foam dissipated, I went in for another spray, screaming like a little girl, jumping in and back, squealing and shrieking.<br />
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Dear neighbours, yes, I know, it was quite a sight. You're welcome.<br />
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Taking a break I went in for some lunch deciding that they needed a little while to die in peace.<br />
When I returned later, the ones swarming the holes were gone. All that was left was wasp corpses, encased in foam, sliding down the vinyl siding. With the hole clear, I took that can and stuck it in the holes and fired deep into the ceiling of the house- emptying the chamber, giggling maniacally, screaming, "WASP KILLA! BOOYAH!" Again, neighbours, re: The show...You're welcome.<br />
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Confident in wasp colony domination, I continued the day. Sure, there were giant blobs of spray foam hanging from the ceiling and the house smelled of insecticide spray, but "MOMMA WAS VICTORIOUS." Also, remember, momma had a playdate to host. Priorities!<br />
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With enough time to clean up, pick up the kids and be ready for the playdate, I congratulated myself on being able to, 'do it all'. Modern woman, can do, all that jazz. Rah, rah, sisterhood. No exterminator needed.<br />
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That evening, we noticed a few wasps in the florescent light fixture in the TV room. Since the fixture is sealed and the only way they could get in was from the ceiling I said, "Hmmm, that's odd."<br />
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The next morning my hubby woke up to discover a few stragglers on the windows in the playroom, but no more wasps coming and going from the hole in the soffit. He congratulated me on a battle well fought and won.<br />
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I left him at home, heading into town, for a family birthday party. Before leaving, I asked him to follow my tracks and make sure that I got them all. The last thing we wanted was some angry trapped wasps to rebuild their colony deeper in the walls of our home.<br />
He reassured me that he had plans to respray and get some gap filler and take the siding off to fill the hole that they had gotten in through.<br />
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One would think that this is where the story ends, but as it turns out, I took out the summer homes...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVwm5o2cmft64O3D3EKWFBJ2kKO2v6leDaw5sGhz71CcUKWS7eRVs9aBY6ZfX1DP2rr8Dl_h17vhaSN_B-LJfIgRXkirEVzouEFI6CBEKJatTy3w1D5Z5ZK73K4NA00AgdrfJQ1mW03A/s1600/IMG_0546.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVwm5o2cmft64O3D3EKWFBJ2kKO2v6leDaw5sGhz71CcUKWS7eRVs9aBY6ZfX1DP2rr8Dl_h17vhaSN_B-LJfIgRXkirEVzouEFI6CBEKJatTy3w1D5Z5ZK73K4NA00AgdrfJQ1mW03A/s640/IMG_0546.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This right here is the summer house and guest cottage.</td></tr>
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While I was in town, hubby updates me that he has gone outside, lifted the vinyl siding and discovered how they are getting in. He plugs the holes, but can still hear buzzing in through the hole. I tell him that he needs to spray again, but make sure he can see them, because if he doesn't hit them, and the hive, then they will be driven further into the house. So uncool. He carried on with the battle, and did a little investigating.<br />
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At the birthday party I got this text...<br />
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Yes, that's right, my thoughts were, rip out drywall.<br />
So, rip out drywall was exactly what hubby and the teenager did.<br />
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What did they find? They found a volleyball sized hive, tucked in against one of the floor joists in the ceiling. At a birthday party with the two little ones, I missed all the fun, but got a play by play from them as they went.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHZU8Bj9jkYZB3AZSVa6rc8EjcMeyH8YeiiBSlKUqRfzC5O_tvjVwyrAFjYmHplYIrCWpISn46NwmuzPyOwgFT_ciWRlW5Bia0WSXSZdQGl2BM2DVM0mxSwpMk3Z7OTCi3-BDnbJO5s0/s1600/IMG_0541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHZU8Bj9jkYZB3AZSVa6rc8EjcMeyH8YeiiBSlKUqRfzC5O_tvjVwyrAFjYmHplYIrCWpISn46NwmuzPyOwgFT_ciWRlW5Bia0WSXSZdQGl2BM2DVM0mxSwpMk3Z7OTCi3-BDnbJO5s0/s640/IMG_0541.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is where the hive sat. By the time I got home, it was no more. Also, a good part of the ceiling, was no more.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">So many lessons learned....</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">One, exterminators are your friend. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">Two, wasps are wiley and will eat through insulation to get at the sweet, sweet warm exterior of your home. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">Three, when you say, "Rip out drywall to hubby and teenager, they will go to town. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">Four, when arriving home to a wasp free house, that also now comes with a four by eight hole in the ceiling, the best course of action is to go full ostrich and snuggle on the couch with the family and watch Madagascar. The hole, will definitely still be there tomorrow. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">Five, a hole in the ceiling is a fantastic motivator to plan that whole re-drywalling the TV room thing that you and hubby have been talking about for a while.</span><br />
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caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-29238130893536439652012-09-25T00:08:00.000-07:002012-10-01T07:56:40.999-07:00Fear and Adventure...<br />
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A couple of years ago, Graysen had banned us from using the word adventure around him. Whenever we used the word adventure, it usually meant that he would be required to put on clothing that was not PJ's, and leave the house, to experience something unexpected and unknown. This series of events was a surefire recipe for him falling in that hole in the living room, or spiralling into a pit of horror. </div>
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Fortunately, in our life, we have friends that are family, and they are more than willing to overuse a word right along with us until all the stigma has left it. Conversations at our house during that time went a little something like, </div>
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"I love drinking coffee. It is such an ADVENTURE to try it with different ingredients. Perhaps, we should ADVENTURE outside into the yard and get the kids to play a game of ADVENTUROUS ADVENTURE. I love ADVENTURE. Do you like ADVENTURE? Oh you do? We are just two awesome ADVENTURING girls enjoying life's ADVENTURE."</div>
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It took a little while, but now, once again, adventure is an authorized word. Even better, on a walk home from school last week, Graysen said out of the blue, "Adventure can be uncomfortable and scary, but it's okay." Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! We stopped right then and there and I hugged the heck out of him, because, that my friends, is a breakthrough.</div>
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He's right. Adventure can be uncomfortable and scary, but if you let the fear rule, life can pass you by. </div>
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Last Friday started with a road trip to 100 Mile House. Caylen, had rehearsal that weekend, so he stayed home with daddy. When he wasn't at rehearsal and daddy wasn't at work, they bonded over old horror movies. Win win. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPmkJGNrj9OblIrXP5Kq2hnQK8oIOFOHWn04udiUKZ7nfFpXCXZEPU-M_qgqhmODKi5439HaYjg1j_7llH4fly5dF2dFYTxwGSSXd5OhLodmhKy2iMIsYIKD9p0183mnUa1l2VZJ3kwg/s1600/DSC_2709_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPmkJGNrj9OblIrXP5Kq2hnQK8oIOFOHWn04udiUKZ7nfFpXCXZEPU-M_qgqhmODKi5439HaYjg1j_7llH4fly5dF2dFYTxwGSSXd5OhLodmhKy2iMIsYIKD9p0183mnUa1l2VZJ3kwg/s640/DSC_2709_2.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous old church on the highway to 100 Mile House. I begged me to pull over and take a picture of it's awesomeness.</td></tr>
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The two little kids, and momma, went for a drive. Graysen got to ride up in Uncle Greg's big semi, so it was just the girls driving through the canyon. Road trips are all adventure. Something about driving down a curvy scenic highway, tunes blaring, makes this momma feel free and gleeful. Underneath that joy, is just a touch of fear. That knowledge of the accidents that can happen on the highway, rock slides, blowouts. All those things that are very real risks on a road trip, but if you let the risk and fear rule, you miss the trip entirely.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBrYif7Gyi4-A9H2YROwBCHuy2pRQZBYX1ufVdQ-103GRJKor0iUlROJQTQPACMQMiZX_lA8tDSS9qnn7dXIKPmOhaTPcBXYEEBGpUW2ZWly70pDzEx0afVZFdkKQfnLWZDnemkQM8ag/s1600/DSC_2746_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBrYif7Gyi4-A9H2YROwBCHuy2pRQZBYX1ufVdQ-103GRJKor0iUlROJQTQPACMQMiZX_lA8tDSS9qnn7dXIKPmOhaTPcBXYEEBGpUW2ZWly70pDzEx0afVZFdkKQfnLWZDnemkQM8ag/s640/DSC_2746_2.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love the rocky barren geography as we get further inland.</td></tr>
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One of the jobs of raising kids, is teaching them the risks involved in anything that they try. It is teaching them, what to be alert and aware about, and then, often, it is teaching them to do it anyways. While most adventure includes risk, life is the leading cause of death for which there is no cure, and arriving at the end of life having missed out on living is tragic. </div>
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Being a parent, I now realize raising these humans, is the biggest adventure I will experience. Fear and risk are around every corner. Underneath all the joy of watching them grow up, is the realization that to help them grow, they must be allowed to risk, to try, to step away from our protection, and adventure themselves. To smile and encourage them through that, is a very hard thing indeed, and it is a reality of parenting that we aren't warned about.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quiet early morning coloring sessions are a beautiful balance to the rest of the adventurous day.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzWOJ-kILWDqoptuCAKiLA1yBeJ6exhgOCb8DQYQR8KaOXEh6EcR-IBYIdBZQw47wYiG3mAxiXpk3cBM-NDxcKPh6NlEf2dB-XvIaxtvToql7J9QriQSNEiIhNkZbnKGQuegutc3AlZg/s1600/DSC_2602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzWOJ-kILWDqoptuCAKiLA1yBeJ6exhgOCb8DQYQR8KaOXEh6EcR-IBYIdBZQw47wYiG3mAxiXpk3cBM-NDxcKPh6NlEf2dB-XvIaxtvToql7J9QriQSNEiIhNkZbnKGQuegutc3AlZg/s640/DSC_2602.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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Being at our friends was all adventure. There are animals all around, and wheelbarrows to use as cars. There are quads to ride through forest trails to abandoned cabins in the woods.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our dear friends' amazing, fearless daughter, who can take on a quad trail with the best of them. I love this girl with all my heart and soul.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone lived here at one point. Now, it's just home to tiny frogs and the occasionally passing herd of cows.</td></tr>
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There is walking through the forest looking for a bear that is getting a little too familiar with people. If you had told ten years ago me, that I would be walking through the forest with my friend and her neighbour hunting a bear, you'd better believe I would have told you that you were insane. However, the reality is that, becoming a momma, my mantra in parenting was, "never say never", and it turns out that my, 'momma bear, keep my babies safe from wandering hungry bear', is stronger that my crunchy, tree hugging, 'give peace a chance' side.</div>
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It was unsettling letting the kids play outside, knowing there were adventurous animals around. However, I am stunting them when I allow my fears, to taint them.<br />
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Everyday, we have to make Graysen try things that scare him. Sometimes it's teaching him that a loose molar that hurts, does not mean he's dying. Sometimes, it's telling him to allow a friend that is a nursing student to take his blood pressure. Some days, it's taking him for a ride in the forest and making him get out and explore an open field at the top of a mountain.<br />
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It's also getting him to try to drive a mini quad even though the part of me that wants to keep him in a safe bubble says, "Oh hell no!" </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">**Disclaimer** Yes we are aware that quads are dangerous. So is driving in a vehicle, biking in traffic, climbing trees and jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. This is a supervised activity, like any other, that runs the risk of accident or injury no matter how cautious. Also, yes he is wearing shorts in this photo, as it is after the crash and he is driving at "Driving Miss Daisy" speed. The goal was to get him back on. Next time he's up to speed it will be in full body armour, compliments of mom.</td></tr>
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Graysen, who had previously, (under very watchful adult eyes) learned to drive a side by side buggy, tried his hand at driving a mini quad. After responsible adult lessons, and under very watchful eyes, he was soon zipping around our friends property, with their son in hot pursuit. Funny enough, learning to swim, or ride a bike was terrifying, however, apparently riding a mini-quad, was no big. Soon enough he developed a blister which we dubbed his "quadding finger". We proclaimed this an important quadding milestone, pushing him through his underlying, "I'm going to die of a flesh wound" fear. A bandaid, a pair of gloves and a "no big deal" attitude, got him back on the quad, unaware that soon, he was going to experience something that would put that blister in perspective.</div>
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This weekend Graysen learned about inertia, and speed. I was watching him come around for what was probably his 50th lap and realized that he was going a little too fast. As I was about to yell for him to slow down, he hit the brakes, turned the wheel and learned that a quad will not change it's direction of travel at that speed. All I saw was him going off and the quad going over. When the dust cleared he was on his feet and the quad was on all four wheels. Other than some scrapes and bruises, he was fine. Thankfully that same nursing student friend was there to reassure momma that all was well. </div>
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It scared the hell out of him. I thought to myself, "What have I done? This kid, that fights leaving the house for fear of something bad happening, has just had his worst fears confirmed." I played through how I could have prevented it. I was frustrated that it had to be him that it happened to. I worried quietly that this would set him back in his willingness to go outside. Truth be told, before the dust cleared I was scared to look, I just ran blindly in the direction of the cloud, thinking my worst fears had been realized. However, this was not the time to listen to the fear. This was the time to teach. To learn.</div>
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We sat on the deck, and snuggled and we talked. I asked him if he understood what happened? I taught him about inertia, about how to avoid the same thing. He told me he saw his life flash before his eyes. I told him, I knew what that was like because when I was a kid I fell off a cliff. I told him, that he had to get back on that quad and try again. I told him that, even though fear told me to shut my mouth.</div>
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He was reluctant to get back on the quad and, fear wanted me to leave it alone. It was the motivating fear of him being an adult, afraid to leave his home that was stronger and in the end, and with momma's reluctant insistance, he got back on the quad and tried again.</div>
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Parenthood, is a great adventure, and there are a million moments of fear that come with it. It is that first time you let a kid go to something unchaperoned with friends. It is letting them cross the road alone, ride their bike to the store. Fear of them being hurt by peers, having their heart broken, breaking a bone, getting sick...it's all there.<br />
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It is the constant companion to this great adventure of parenthood, where we teach them to live, to embrace life and all it's messy adventure and the fears and excitement that come with it. Life is an adventure, and each day we take those steps forward into the adventure. Raising little humans is in part teaching them that while those steps forward can be scary, they can also be amazing, and without taking them, we really aren't living. </div>
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<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-31148158026139209072012-09-18T09:53:00.000-07:002012-09-20T09:56:55.873-07:00Making hay....The saying, "Make hay while the sun shines." may have roots stemming from farming before five day weather forcasts, however, it's not difficult to imagine that whoever said it first spent at least part of their life on the Westcoast of BC. Our rainforest weather belt means that this spoiled Westcoast girl rarely wears a winter coat, but the trade off is all those months of rain which gives this place it's super fantastic green hue.<br />
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In a place where June's cold, wet weather, inspires locals to refer to it as Juneuary, you'd better believe that when the sun shines hot in September, it's all about soaking up every last bit of Vitamin D. Grey skies are ahead, there's no denying.<br />
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September means back to chaos and obligations. We balance it with a healthy dose of ignoring the laundry, and dishes, in favor of adventuring outside.<br />
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For about ten seconds I thought about hitting the gym on Sunday morning, but then realized it was a gorgeous day for a hike. We decided to explore Chipmunk Caves. These awesome caves are a short, kid friendly walk into the forest. When you get there, it is like a scene out of some magical storybook.<br />
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Caylen happily went through the caves with another family that was there. The caves themselves, were a little much for our middle adventurer, but that's okay. He would climb to the mouth of the cave and sit there as though he was trying it on for size. Going inside was where he drew the line.<br />
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There was a time, that being in the forest, would have been too much for him, and so we embrace progress and make note that cave exploration is another thing to add to his "try at least once" list.<br />
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Getting into one of the caves it's a fairly steep climb up a hillside. Lorelei, kept going to the mouth, trying to screw up the courage to go inside. While she didn't actually go inside this time, I can confirm that my goal of a workout was accomplished. Climbing that hillside several times and sliding down, was equivalent to about ten thousand squats. How do I know? Let's just say if you saw me try to sit the next day, you would have wondered what that high pitched whine was.<br />
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In an attempt to continue a goal to make Monday's something to look forward to, I surprised Lorelei and Graysen at afterschool pickup, declaring that we were walking a different way home. Change and surprises are rarely welcome in Graysen's world, and so as he began spiralling into a pit of horror at the thought of deviating from the plan, I began our regular mantra, working him through this unscheduled detour in his day. I won't pretend I didn't grease the wheels with a promise of to stop at the corner store for slurpees, if he could come happily and embrace the adventure. Sometimes, parenting by way of frozen, colored sugar water is all we got.<br />
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Physically, this route took us in the exact opposite direction of our house. However, if the goal was bliss on a crazy Monday, we went in exactly the right direction.<br />
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Earlier that day, I had taken my screaming quad muscles on a great hike along the rock covered islands in the middle of the river to make sure that there were kid friendly crossings through the water.<br />
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We walked over a large log jam, through shallow spots in the river. We kept our shoes on in the water which Lorelei thought was just the best thing ever.<br />
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The reward was our destination, a sweet swimming hole, complete with soft sandy beach. I had brought their bathing suits in my backpack, and when I pulled them out, you would think by the awestruck look on their faces, I had pulled off a magic trick, rivalling David Blaine. Soon enough they were splashing each other and giggling. Eventually, Daddy and Caylen arrived from their obligations to meet us. They came down to hang for a moment of bliss in the middle of the regular chaos of any given Monday.<br />
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If I squinted real hard, I could pretend that it was still summer, and we had been playing in this swimming hole all day. I could pretend that we didn't have looming evening obligations of paperwork, household duties, after school activities and the carpooling those activities bring. For a moment, I could let it all fall away, and pretend that this was all there was in the world.<br />
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It's in these quiet stolen heartbeats, that I make hay. I store it up for all those times that life creeps in with it's very real realness. Those grey clouds are rarely far off in life's forecast, and they seem to demand a surrender of happiness along with attention.<br />
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I'm not having it. The happiness is mine to keep. Those clouds can have only the attention I feel they deserve, because the rest of me is always searching for those moments when the sunshine pokes through the clouds.caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-90647456498423671882012-09-13T11:10:00.003-07:002012-09-13T15:34:27.581-07:00Embracing inner conflictLast week I left the ranks of parents, who ferry children around with them during the day.<br />
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So many times in the past year, I have looked forward to this time with excitement, anxiety, impatience, fear, joy, and confusion.<br />
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We are well into our second week of school, and already into a routine. However, there is a keen awareness that parts of that routine are shiny and new and will fall aside fairly soon.<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/AVvXsEjteHydZrJuhFo430dctlUrZN9bo2OxWaKqp3SmdzyIIn0dklWmyTiKvhbewnx7uqi92rKaqgq610MpQFmDWamC85MlQWE1Sig4y3YOXHmTHlFm0vjC5QmqvJsNXCYXuQBTVUtGfe8-D2I/s1600/DSC_2244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjteHydZrJuhFo430dctlUrZN9bo2OxWaKqp3SmdzyIIn0dklWmyTiKvhbewnx7uqi92rKaqgq610MpQFmDWamC85MlQWE1Sig4y3YOXHmTHlFm0vjC5QmqvJsNXCYXuQBTVUtGfe8-D2I/s640/DSC_2244.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made them sit on the grass for this photo, because to me, dead grass means we had a great summer.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>For now, I am enjoying being the family that makes lunches, and lays out the next days outfits the night before. It's lovely to be the parents who read and complete school paperwork on time. Soon enough, it's gonna be rushed morning lunches, mad searching through the laundry pile for socks, and momma confessing to the office that I need another copy of the field trip form because I have once again lost it.<br />
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I've had more years of scattered school mornings, than organized. While I can claim to love the relaxed calm that comes with these organized mornings, it is a reality, that I am more inclined to drag everyone out after dinner for running races, or some time at the park. Before we know it, it's an hour past bedtime and, 'Oh well.'<br />
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Organization is nice, but it's not often the stuff that memories are made of.<br />
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Last night, Lorelei laid in bed with her dad and I after dinner. We had planned on an evening game of tennis (for hubby and I) and chasing each other in the field (for the kids). However, it was clear our girl needed a little reconnection.<br />
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She laid next to me and chattered in the way she often does, and we listened. Then she turned, looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I'm scared to be an adult."<br />
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</div>It caught me off guard. I looked right back at her, smiling gently, and said, "There is a long time between Kindergarten and adult. By the time you get there you will be ready, but right now, your job is to be four and enjoy that."<br />
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Later, thinking about it, I realized that this answer wasn't entirely correct. Right now, she is learning that it's okay to have conflicting emotions. She was so confused to be excited about school, but also scared. She struggled with the idea that it was okay to miss me, but also be happy to start an adventure independent of our little corner of the world.<br />
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The better answer to her question would have been, being an adult is a lot like starting Kindergarten. It is an exciting freedom, and a terrifying responsibility. It is awesome independence, and longing for the safety of your childhood home. Like any big change though, you find your way through the conflict, or you get stuck. Don't get stuck.<br />
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</div>Don't get stuck. I need to let those words wash over me. See, this momma is also working through her conflicting emotions on this next milestone. Having already rode life's roller coaster through some big ones; growing up, starting a life with someone, starting a family, dealing with challenges in our kids and family, it surprised me that this little dip was scary. I should be riding with both arms in the air, laughing and embracing the ride. After 13 years of having a little human home with me, it's time to embrace the conflict that is moving on to the next step.<br />
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</div>There is freedom in realizing that I'm just as scared as my girl, but I'm also just as excited. Raising these little humans, I haven't been holding my breath, waiting for my turn. Rather, I found another joy to embrace, because I knew that while 13 years is long, it is also fleeting and in a blink you wake, and we are moving forward.<br />
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This is a new world and it's taken a little while to figure out the answer to the question, "What are you going to do with yourself now?"<br />
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While it is simply people making conversation, I will confess that this question started a panic in me. I didn't have an answer, and that felt indulgent and frivolous.<br />
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So now, I sit, for all intents and purposes, a tenured momma. Job security should be a given, but questions over the last two weeks imply that my job is being phased out, and it's time to seek employment elsewhere.<br />
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I toyed with flippant answers, "I'm going to look into this whole soap opera/bon bon thing everyone's always going on about."<br />
However, then I realized that my answer is, "I don't know, and I like it that way."<br />
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I am a tenured momma, on a research sabbatical from expectations and perceptions on how I spend my time. With a child barely two weeks into her educational career, a little boy, who just happens to have autism, in a transition year, and a middle schooler, who needs present parents more than ever; it feels to me as though my duties and expectations have merely shifted, and this corporation still requires it's head zookeeper.<br />
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Soon enough, I'm sure I will be dropping them off in a rush, having places to be, appointments to keep. However, right now, it feels reluctant, and foreign, and it's really okay that it feels that way.<br />
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I started a sabbatical bucket list, realizing that I'm 36 and I've never learned to juggle. After 13 years of child wrangling, I've definately earned a leave of absence to breathe out. To some, that may seem indulgent and frivolous, but to me, it's what is right, and really, that's okay.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvTMHU0FKrTWtoEFiP9L-1mB_R08toVcqdZxa9kkN0yl7LAkRrE4oYO-XWwSRyuZtW5iGEOzaQv0kh_R45K5_pDEdQgoiaTNujt07oc42wW66NSQ4uO3e2WHXHYB6PxNc9UqIZjhqmVs/s1600/DSC_2284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvTMHU0FKrTWtoEFiP9L-1mB_R08toVcqdZxa9kkN0yl7LAkRrE4oYO-XWwSRyuZtW5iGEOzaQv0kh_R45K5_pDEdQgoiaTNujt07oc42wW66NSQ4uO3e2WHXHYB6PxNc9UqIZjhqmVs/s640/DSC_2284.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-70623298254152073332012-09-03T15:29:00.000-07:002012-09-04T15:40:45.757-07:00Whales, and Cougars, and Sand dunes, Oh my!!<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is post four in a series of posts on our trip to Oregon. For the first three posts, click <a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/08/one-last-kick-at-summer-ostrich.html" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/08/a-day-to-breathe-out.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/08/twice-awesome-and-other-adventures.html" target="_blank">also here</a>. </span><br />
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Sitting at home, surrounded by animals that are intent on communicating their displeasure at our absence. I am feeling content and ready for the coming changes, for school, for fall, for whatever other adventure are heading our way.<br />
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The final days of our beach trip, were a whirlwind of adventure and spur of the moment detours to discover something new.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first time we spotted a whale blowing, it was surreal.</td></tr>
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We spotted our first whale late in the evening, at a rest stop in Boiler Bay. By the following evening, whale spotting had become so common that a stop to watch the sun sink into the ocean was met with offhanded comments like,<br />
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"Wow Mom! Wow! Look at the ocean swallowing the sun!!! Oh and look, <i>another</i> whale." </div>
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There are about 200 resident Grey whales that summer on the central Oregon coast, which meant that the kids got really good at sighting the spray from their blow spouts, and momma tried frantically to capture an image or two.<br />
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I'm getting ahead of myself though. Thursday, was for sand dunes. We drove the two and a half hours to Florence. Along the way, I found myself thinking about how music is really the only teleporter we have available to us. Listening to certain songs, can take you back to an awesome moment, a treasured memory.<br />
With that in mind, I played each of the kids songs as we drove along that beautiful highway, taking in the ocean views, sandy beaches and bright sunshine.<br />
When each child was born, I picked a song to sing to them, to this day, those notes belong to them. I found myself hoping that the connection of their song would plant a seed that would take them back to these memories each time they heard their song, whenever and wherever they go in this world.<br />
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Entering city limits, we nearly made a hood ornament out of a cougar, of the kitty variety, not barfly. Funny, that we had to travel from British Columbia to Oregon to see our first ever cougar. He looked a little like Hobbes from Calvin and Hobbes, which started a fifteen minute conversation between hubby and I, wherein we took turns speculating on just what kind of cat Hobbes actually was. I'm sure this question could be answered by Google, however, where is the fun in that?<br />
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Arriving in Florence, we made our way out to Sand Dunes State Park, where we passed the loading areas, and went straight for the beach. Rookie mistake, we tried to set up by the water, and the wind laughed at us. We relocated to behind a large sand dune and settled in. Kite flying, digging in the sand and football were on the menu.<br />
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Nothing is more terrifying than Graysen running at momma, full tilt, in a football tackle. That boy will tackle me whether I have the ball or not.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He scaled to the top of this dune, plunked the ball into the sand and declared victory. True heartburst moment, right there.</td></tr>
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I found myself grateful for the warm dunes that I was thrown in. I found myself grateful for their laughter, and the fact that they still wanted me to play with them. I found myself grateful for a little boy that was so kamikaze committed to football domination. I found myself grateful for this time in our own little world, to breathe out together. <br />
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After we had our fill, we made our way to a loading area in the dunes. Across from the parking lot sat a large dune which Caylen pretty much ran straight up. Insanity.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Stinkerbell, milking the drama with all she's got. </td></tr>
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Climbing a sand dune is some wicked resistance training, but getting to the top of that mountain is a beautiful reward. Our last goal that day was to find somewhere for the kids to swim, to wash all that sand off. We stopped for gas, and like a crazy tourist I said to the man at the station,<br />
"Is there a lake around here, where a sand dune goes right into it? I went there as a kid and I want to take my kids there."<br />
He looked at me like I was seven different kinds of crazy and replied,<br />
"Ma'am, there's so much sand here, when I have a day off I go to the mountains."<br />
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We laughed and told him we came from the mountains to find the sand.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">People sand surf down this hill. I found myself wishing for a saucer slide to re-enact a Griswold moment.</td></tr>
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He took a wild guess and, sent us to Honeyman State Park, hoping that was what I remembered. As we pulled in and I saw it I squealed. It was the same lake we went to when I was a kid. One of my favorite memories of our trip to Oregon was our day at this lake. We ran down the dunes into the cold lake and it was bliss. To sit and watch my kids run in the footsteps of my sisters and I from all those years ago, was a total heartburst moment.<br />
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The next day, we decided to get a little closer to a whale. There is a marine biologist, living in Depoe Bay. Her name is Carrie Newell and she takes people out in Zodiacs to see the Grey whales. We specifically went with her because we wanted to take the kids out with someone that was studying these whales, someone who was passionate about their existence.<br />
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So that is how we ended up out in the bay, on a fancy schmancy inflatable boat, watching a grey whale swim 100 feet away. Better yet, that is how Graysen ended up, floating in a fancy schmancy inflatable boat, watching a grey whale swim 100 feet away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrTWSTXsAVW-z08PngRuHLphyphenhyphenLMTi1qP0ERcHW1aHawL53FVTMKtG3B4yL1s7Z-Xb6RP2FgVknaw0vmntEr9hhDcUIhlyP5N1Yt6raFBHwu3U9YxY4_Pk1NJJhTcQ00f-AFuIaACLunw/s1600/DSC_1730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrTWSTXsAVW-z08PngRuHLphyphenhyphenLMTi1qP0ERcHW1aHawL53FVTMKtG3B4yL1s7Z-Xb6RP2FgVknaw0vmntEr9hhDcUIhlyP5N1Yt6raFBHwu3U9YxY4_Pk1NJJhTcQ00f-AFuIaACLunw/s640/DSC_1730.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As it turns out, photographing a giant mammal in a rolling ocean, is no simple feat.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We learned before getting on the boat that we were only allowed to get within 100 feet of the whale. However, if the whale chose to approach us, then they could come closer. We also learned that grey whales love high pitched sounds and usually come closer to check them out. This is how we ended up listening to Lorelei singing, "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", on a boat, in the middle of the bay, to a 30 ton wild animal. He didn't end up coming much closer, but the music was nice all the same.</span></div>
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He did great and I am fairly sure he will never forgive us, but he did it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWDdkxluMka_fKeNu7A4n13KdjhaYxDb43kUyGZCHTwTtH5Bf1RkXeB2owiltEyuxXDzQ5X_Un-Ov72tP9L2P4DDdBcGm-oLALmc77ViXUKnMFz7dTmXerWaUMuztfrR0Uo2lgalRA3U/s1600/DSC_1757.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWDdkxluMka_fKeNu7A4n13KdjhaYxDb43kUyGZCHTwTtH5Bf1RkXeB2owiltEyuxXDzQ5X_Un-Ov72tP9L2P4DDdBcGm-oLALmc77ViXUKnMFz7dTmXerWaUMuztfrR0Uo2lgalRA3U/s640/DSC_1757.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is about the time that he told us he felt sick. Awesomesauce.</td></tr>
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Saturday, was our final day, which we set aside for Agate Beach and a whole lot of laying in the sand.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbjKtPKOREIzZjyyTJBIZwyB9daMXg6OlCVPAKo3wVVa77HArDj8FEDi1yndVnX1-kOPBcEuH0M3Z9HMM6FZgVwCvF9E7QzW22-7faWcQF8-obNlSaiqkO7PmaCf4Ah0NZNAtDJ2DjWI/s1600/DSC_1797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbjKtPKOREIzZjyyTJBIZwyB9daMXg6OlCVPAKo3wVVa77HArDj8FEDi1yndVnX1-kOPBcEuH0M3Z9HMM6FZgVwCvF9E7QzW22-7faWcQF8-obNlSaiqkO7PmaCf4Ah0NZNAtDJ2DjWI/s640/DSC_1797.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of Yaquina Head lighthouse, from the dunes.</td></tr>
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It took the kids a little while to settle out their unrest. It always seems to happen when we go somewhere new. The kids have a little time where they are restless, like baby birds in a nest. I have found, the more we just show them how to rest, the faster they find their way to calm.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYY3eAEUEWN3lSpvtVbSLXA1zL81Zn_vcvX3d-8n4tPC6R73g4EK-UH7jl8YaccJUKx2-bjY8yue2YMdpF7Edv9bDZ68wWc3GmkwScxRJfaDAufGMCXNHXyEo658yHc4wjKiGNVNFkGfY/s1600/DSC_1777_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYY3eAEUEWN3lSpvtVbSLXA1zL81Zn_vcvX3d-8n4tPC6R73g4EK-UH7jl8YaccJUKx2-bjY8yue2YMdpF7Edv9bDZ68wWc3GmkwScxRJfaDAufGMCXNHXyEo658yHc4wjKiGNVNFkGfY/s640/DSC_1777_2.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy flew kites to find the zen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Soon enough they were playing football and digging in the sand, and I settled myself up against a sand dune. The sand was hot, and so comforting.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDsjuIKOHkl0IyntO5QikCp37-XoB1x-XuXopQzjU7Ex9FKoYZ9aMEIErHosvgl3CwjqC0C0tVZjbK7_ZtXPmCZQCxH8WwbvaidXwO6w6CjJqflYnOob46BjfsJFf-wLBErbLnIl7l2c/s1600/DSC_1814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDsjuIKOHkl0IyntO5QikCp37-XoB1x-XuXopQzjU7Ex9FKoYZ9aMEIErHosvgl3CwjqC0C0tVZjbK7_ZtXPmCZQCxH8WwbvaidXwO6w6CjJqflYnOob46BjfsJFf-wLBErbLnIl7l2c/s640/DSC_1814.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sand was warm and it sparkled. It was fine and so soft to touch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I read, for what seemed like hours. Hubby read, and the kids played. We sat in the valley between two dunes, and so it was as though we were the only people there on the beach. The roar of the ocean, beating on the shore, the hot sun, the kids laughing, actually getting to read past the first chapter of a book that I have been trying to read for eight months. There is nothing more from summer required.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDE1mK-oAv5zUCyEbgRfUGybc9Lej6dlnwczhxDBMWaaIc8Yr0sxFLBOyngpgoCiYyGOyK-SBUgRqzvikGdHAqOXjp9Y0yjOHBlCh04IMz7OjtrSoYg0BNNX-h5S0pYpBysKtRgvngl-Q/s1600/DSC_1895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDE1mK-oAv5zUCyEbgRfUGybc9Lej6dlnwczhxDBMWaaIc8Yr0sxFLBOyngpgoCiYyGOyK-SBUgRqzvikGdHAqOXjp9Y0yjOHBlCh04IMz7OjtrSoYg0BNNX-h5S0pYpBysKtRgvngl-Q/s640/DSC_1895.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
We went back to the hotel that night, watched the sun set on the beach, had one final s'mores roast around the fire pit and woke up the next morning ready to go home.<br />
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We had a pit stop in southern Washington to meet an Instagram family, which was a lovely break in our drive. It was not at all surprising that our kids hit it off immediately.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JsG9Qc9KhC7KQ1iIhup45tkMbKJXM9bgx4tWzKBQt-GunycyXVNdFlnW0Rd4FtmmsCp0nxrk56Iw6t8NAtEZ8lSh8atake6OYqn_vVrlUuS9ghDPcvC7RoWU-JqA6pkaVWxW4-Irh_Y/s1600/DSC_1579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JsG9Qc9KhC7KQ1iIhup45tkMbKJXM9bgx4tWzKBQt-GunycyXVNdFlnW0Rd4FtmmsCp0nxrk56Iw6t8NAtEZ8lSh8atake6OYqn_vVrlUuS9ghDPcvC7RoWU-JqA6pkaVWxW4-Irh_Y/s640/DSC_1579.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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This is one of my favorite photos from the trip. I like my photos like I like my memories...not posed, rather messy, and disheveled, but happy. On any vacation with kids, there are those moments when you are ready to pull the car over and heft them all out on the side of the road. We watched The Incredibles one night at the hotel and the kids laughed almost too hard at the scene where the Mom is yelling freeway exits at the Dad. <br />
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We were reminded more than once by each of them that, "That's how you help daddy drive too, mom!!"<br />
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Sure in those moments, they are not so warm or glowing, but they add depth and reality to a vacation. They add laughter in hindsight. I'm sure it will be a long time before the kids stop talking about "That time when we drove into Oregon, in a rainstorm, with no windshield wipers."<br />
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These real, often funny moments mix with the happy glowing warm moments. <br />
When I put a frame around all those memories, I don't see the messiness, but rather it all melds together into this beautiful happy chaos of blissful life.<br />
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<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-33152026085243941752012-08-29T15:03:00.000-07:002012-09-04T15:46:07.720-07:00"Twice the Awesome" and other adventures...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is post three in a series of four posts about our trip to Oregon. For the other three posts, click </span><a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/08/one-last-kick-at-summer-ostrich.html" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-size: x-small;">, </span><a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/08/a-day-to-breathe-out.html" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-size: x-small;">, and </span><a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/09/whales-and-cougars-and-sand-dunes-oh-my.html" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">also here</a><span style="font-size: x-small;">.</span></div>
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After a day of mellow beachiness, yesterday was about exploring. We knew we were heading south. We knew that there were sand dunes, lighthouses and sea lions along the way. However, we didn't know exactly what shape the day would take. </div>
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This makes for an interesting day when you have a little man who craves an itinerary, but he knows that the rule is, if you ask to go home, we add fifteen minutes to the time that we are gone. It's a rule, and he loves rules, so it works. </div>
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Driving down highway 101 we came across Yaquina Head Lighthouse, and decided no time like the present for a little adventure. A friend told me about Cobble Beach, which is right below
Yaquina Head lighthouse. She mentioned something about a smell, and flies,
but all I really registered was her words, “It’s like nothing you have ever seen or heard
before….” Sold!</div>
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Before climbing the lighthouse, we decided to head down to
the beach for lunch. She wasn’t kidding. The entire beach is covered in these
dark cobblestones. The sound as you walked on them, is abosolutely musical and unreal. We were
enchanted immediately. Add to that, the amazing rocks in the ocean, the seals
in the water and the view of the lighthouse above, and we figured this was
paradise to eat lunch at. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQpguyehyphenhyphenPJrZka3DJIeiYA10JvtS8Jr4J4_hlrqG6sZWX_jUFclftuBv5MHxDRPgNGUQoTtphJAfJwrEny46VScNXHw2XrjJrcOYKImzD_GGFICrhW8V0ixDCKk9ao5-Ez0tVKdxClY/s1600/DSC_0860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQpguyehyphenhyphenPJrZka3DJIeiYA10JvtS8Jr4J4_hlrqG6sZWX_jUFclftuBv5MHxDRPgNGUQoTtphJAfJwrEny46VScNXHw2XrjJrcOYKImzD_GGFICrhW8V0ixDCKk9ao5-Ez0tVKdxClY/s640/DSC_0860.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We sat down, noticing a fly or two, but brushed them away and started eating. Slowly, we came to the realization that my friend's mention of flies on the beach was not to be taken as a passing comment. If you were still for a moment, 20-50 flies would land on you. No joke! As long as we were moving, it wasn't bad. However, staying still for even a moment to take photos, meant becoming a rest stop for a large gang of kelp flies. It wasn't long before we were laughing hysterically and dancing on the beach to keep them at bay. </div>
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They weren't really horrible, and they weren't your average housefly, so we dealt and ate lunch standing and checking out the seals playing in the water only a few feet off shore. </div>
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Wiggly lunch and seal sighting complete, we headed up the stairs to the lighthouse. Walking around the back side, there was a lookout, that was a perfect spot to see grey whales swimming in the ocean. We spent a little time watching a few whales play and blow water from their spout. Getting a photo of them proved to be difficult and sometimes you just have to experience a moment and forget about the camera. </div>
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The lighthouse was built in 1873 by Henry Roberts, who also happened to be the same Henry Roberts that wrote Robert's Rules of Order. The light house is beautiful and still operates today, however, instead of a flame fuelled by pig oil, it is simply a 1000 watt lightbulb. </div>
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We had to sit outside and wait our turn to be let in. As you can imagine, they only want so many people climbing the stairs at one time. So waiting meant sitting still on the front steps, which meant, you guessed it, kelp flies. Graysen, funny enough didn't mind them landing on him at all, and quite happily kept catching and petting them. </div>
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Once inside, it was time to climb the 93 feet to the top of the light house. The stairs were gorgeous and winding, and just see through enough, that we were all reminding each other not to look down.<br />
As we came to the top of the stairs, I suddenly felt the lighthouse move. Unexpected! I stood in the top of the lighthouse with my family, trying to listen to the man tell us all about the prisms that made the light so focused out to sea and all I could think of was Austin Powers saying, "Moley Mole, don't mention the mole." because all I wanted to SWAY errrr say was, "Is this thing moving??"<br />
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We all got a turn to climb the last few stairs to look out of the top where the light was. Totally worth the whole stairs, vertigo, moley mole sway stuff. <br />
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Our day's, lighthouse needs met, we headed the mile down the road to Yaquina Beach, which happens to have some small sand dunes. </div>
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Watching the kids run for miles, playing on the dunes was a total heartburst moment. I giggled to myself, because these are the baby dunes, and I can not wait to see their faces when we get to the big fellas tomorrow.<br />
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Graysen, our resident beach/water hater, of course went straight into the ocean. Did I mention that he left his bathing suit in the car? I should probably mention that it didn't really matter. What's a little wet underwear between family when there is this awesomeness to take in.</div>
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After some time at the beach and a vow to come back for a beach day before we leave, we headed into Newport to see if we could spot some sea lions. We heard a rumor that they liked to hang out on the dock. The first few docks we checked out, were sea lion free. However, Lorelei, out fearless adventurer, did spot some men fishing off the dock. The one gentleman was reeling fish in by the minute, all small, all being thrown back but Lorelei thought this was all kinds of awesome.</div>
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She walked right up to them and said, "Can I watch you fish?" </div>
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Within seconds, she had positioned herself between two of the guys and was watching the show. A minute later, one of the men told her to start reeling in the line. She pulled in a little baby fish, which was so awesome but, "No thank you, I don't want to touch it." Another moment, where enjoying it was more important than the photos. </div>
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Carrying on down the road, we managed to find this twice the awesome. Not just a unicorn, but a unicorn with two horns. Score. Not really sure what it meant, but apparently Oregon graffiti is unicorn inspired because that was the only tag I saw yesterday, which is by very definition, "Twice the awesome."<br />
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We heard the sea lions before we saw them. Soon enough, we found the dock and there they were, on a rock in the harbour, sleeping and fighting with each other. Their barking sounds and protests were hysterical to the kids. We stood for a good hour letting the kids marvel at how they looked and sounded a little like dogs, but also like bears and a bit like cats. They looked so sweet while they slept, but when they woke up and started yelling at each other, they actually reminded me a little of our kids. </div>
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<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-10858894746065520692012-08-27T23:35:00.001-07:002012-09-04T15:43:27.914-07:00A day to breathe out...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is post two in a series of four posts about our trip to Oregon. For the other three posts, click </span><a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/08/one-last-kick-at-summer-ostrich.html" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-size: x-small;">, </span><a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/08/twice-awesome-and-other-adventures.html" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-size: x-small;">, and </span><a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/09/whales-and-cougars-and-sand-dunes-oh-my.html" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">also here</a><span style="font-size: x-small;">.</span></div>
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When I woke up this morning (at 6:30-Oy!!), the sun was shining and the kids were still asleep. In the summer all three of them like to have summer sleepovers together. They choose this, and while I know that this will not always be the case, I won't pretend I don't love it like crazy that at this point in time, they still happily do.</div>
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This was the view from the deck this morning. There were people already out, walking on the beach, and while I wanted to join them, I decided to try for just five more minutes of sleep.<br />
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By 8:30, we were all up and ready to explore the beach before breakfast.<br />
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Our hotel was built in the 1930's and was originally built as apartments. It has a pretty awesome history and the new owners have been doing a ton of work to restore it.<br />
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I showed Graysen and Lorelei that you could play jump rope with a piece of kelp, but they couldn't find anyone willing to skip. They were a little off in their timing, which might have been part of the problem.<br />
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Lorelei decided that this piece of kelp was her puppy, and she dragged it down the beach. Every so often, she would turn and whistle at it to be sure it continued following.<br />
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After breakfast, we did a little exploring in the city, but the beach was calling us, and so we answered.<br />
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Graysen will tell you that he doesn't like the beach and that the sand feels yucky. I'm sure that if you were here, his disgust would be obvious, by the way he skips happily into the waves, dancing and laughing. His constant rolling in the sand, and requests to be buried in it are also clear indicators of his discontent.<br />
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Today Caylen taught me how to throw a football properly. That was all kids of awesome.<br />
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Somewhere between football on the beach and momma burying two kids in the sand, the clouds rolled in. It stayed warm though, and daddy was happy flying a kite, so no rush to leave. Besides, I had two kids happily immobilized in the sand.<br />
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Lorelei made a few sand angels, and insisted on drawing in the halos. Finally, once everyone had their fill, we headed in for a swim in the pool.<br />
In the court yard by our room, there are four fire bowls, and we decided to roast hot dogs tonight for dinner, followed by a movie in our room.<br />
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Lorelei ended the night with S'mores and while the kids fell asleep, hubby and I sat on the deck and enjoyed the angry ocean. Tomorrow, a search for sand dunes, or perhaps sea lions, or maybe a lighthouse or two.<br />
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caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-26460606532913356872012-08-27T06:51:00.000-07:002012-09-04T15:41:30.740-07:00One last kick at the (summer) ostrich...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is post one in a series of four posts about our trip to Oregon. For the other three posts, click <a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/08/a-day-to-breathe-out.html" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/08/twice-awesome-and-other-adventures.html" target="_blank">here</a>, and <a href="http://blissinthemundane.blogspot.ca/2012/09/whales-and-cougars-and-sand-dunes-oh-my.html" target="_blank">also here</a>.</span></div>
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Growing up, my sisters and I had parents that loved a good road trip. Three summers in a row, we packed up our family trailer, left our home in the southern interior of British Columbia and headed for a one month adventure in a US state. The first year, we explored Washington, the next Oregon, and finally, on that third summer, California, and all the Disney-riffic splendor that comes with.<br />
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Maybe surprisingly, it was the summer in Oregon that held my heart the tightest. Something about the coast, with it's giant intertidal rocks, and it's untamed beauty, called me.<br />
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A little nostalgia at the beginning of the summer, and a desire to pass on road trip memories to our own kids, landed us here, in Lincoln City. The room is quiet. The sliding door is cracked open, just enough to let in the sound of the ocean, and as I sit here typing, the roar of those waves takes all the rough edges and softens them right down.<br />
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At 3:30am this morning, I was wide awake, trying to snuggle Lorelei, and will myself to sleep for just one more hour. By 4am, it was clear that getting up was my best option. By 5:15 am, we were heading down the road, and by 5:45 am we were talking to a lovely US Border Guard who wanted to know, "Why so early?" and that told us, we had "the perkiest kids [she's] seen at 5:45 am in a while."<br />
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A gorgeous sunrise is a great reward for getting up early, and this morning's fire in the sky didn't disappoint.<br />
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By 6:30 we were rolling South down the I5, and I may have geektastically waved at some fellow Canadians as we passed them. Their Alberta plates tipped us off, along with their slightly confused, but friendly smiles. I'm sure the reason for my excitement was clear once we pulled in front and they saw our BC plates. At least that's what I told hubby.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dear Seattle, We love you, we really do. So sorry we didn't have time to stop in for a visit today. </td></tr>
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Daddy made the kids little map packs so they could follow along as we went, but poor kids have never road tripped with mom and dad. Those map packs we made a couple of days earlier and the driving plan had changed a few times since then. Can you imagine the torture we subject our little order oriented man too?<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/AVvXsEjdQP97-jh5fXfHRO5Fe0ZTklb2DDzTAbOPIjU6Pqzv30h8YI9i5R-dCSmcyovU2D1WDSfoEnxWkEabfxXlR9d4UrEkM6vsEq6Eg6E4plwykR0TZMkZa6VuUDZVUS9ys4gcP3cnmqlCiLk/s1600/DSC_0542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQP97-jh5fXfHRO5Fe0ZTklb2DDzTAbOPIjU6Pqzv30h8YI9i5R-dCSmcyovU2D1WDSfoEnxWkEabfxXlR9d4UrEkM6vsEq6Eg6E4plwykR0TZMkZa6VuUDZVUS9ys4gcP3cnmqlCiLk/s640/DSC_0542.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's telling us how far off course we are.</td></tr>
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To distract him from the inaccurate map and all it's very bad, badness, we started playing the license plate game. Momma spotted a plate from Hawaii. You would think, that's gotta be an automatic win, but apparently not, and so game on.<br />
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Oh and that Hawaii plate, was spotted at Johnson Observatory at Mount St. Helens.<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/AVvXsEg-Okgtt9PB1qo6FRa_kLqD7S1zZwk1wzm9wYq1zOwAlgZSkvPkq7Gzvh9aYa3_xZV8O_Mx0-csvYK7EQ6SFM7B-g-vkmfPzAmkRnP82LQb-xSYkut7SXl9L9O5-z8EOWpJsr0f64azMT8/s1600/DSC_0591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Okgtt9PB1qo6FRa_kLqD7S1zZwk1wzm9wYq1zOwAlgZSkvPkq7Gzvh9aYa3_xZV8O_Mx0-csvYK7EQ6SFM7B-g-vkmfPzAmkRnP82LQb-xSYkut7SXl9L9O5-z8EOWpJsr0f64azMT8/s640/DSC_0591.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plate edited for privacy reasons.</td></tr>
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Nothing like ripping that fear band-aid off. Graysen got a full education on volcanoes and early warning signs. What was once a fear, is now possibly morphing into an obsession. Driving all the way in to the mountain was about a three hour detour, but it's all part of the adventure.<br />
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We first went to the Observatory, which felt solemn. I'm not sure if it was the knowledge that 32 years ago, a scientist stood on that same ground and lost his life to an unpredictable mountain, or the fact that the mountain itself seemed to bare the scars of it's explosive past. Maybe both. We didn't stay long, as the Forest Learning Center, held stories of getting to pretend to fly a helicopter, and a "Hands On" exhibit. This little detour, fuelled conversation in the car for hours. Lorelei decided that when Volcanoes erupt, they are just burping. Graysen wanted to, "Google all the things volcano NOW!"<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/AVvXsEjY7frJVk3Uzmo3s6LAlbMRNMGuh_eF-aDmR7apQXgMD-cOAwpZE_FeF2mN1pau4oa19uGSSBpAqGAGs6VrxSWzj_Erk2jMVXIAWEvUGHL4DJOEdDfodet8R09IkM85Rkv5lPWY_3yx3Ks/s1600/DSC_0573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY7frJVk3Uzmo3s6LAlbMRNMGuh_eF-aDmR7apQXgMD-cOAwpZE_FeF2mN1pau4oa19uGSSBpAqGAGs6VrxSWzj_Erk2jMVXIAWEvUGHL4DJOEdDfodet8R09IkM85Rkv5lPWY_3yx3Ks/s640/DSC_0573.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt St. Helens</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinNWbwq8plV5me74IXbOth_iSH1iX0CF581VrsVIqwunVsi_UmTiWSEyegZrg9NwkmtqkwsfmtFuvtocgob_etSVay1G1zyK_vQfvHsikN-RpHg2dmllW85mdJrwxVRkRxYl5P2c3cAsE/s1600/DSC_0582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinNWbwq8plV5me74IXbOth_iSH1iX0CF581VrsVIqwunVsi_UmTiWSEyegZrg9NwkmtqkwsfmtFuvtocgob_etSVay1G1zyK_vQfvHsikN-RpHg2dmllW85mdJrwxVRkRxYl5P2c3cAsE/s640/DSC_0582.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It seems you can still hike around the outside of the crater. After some research, this is perhaps something best done with much older kids. If you are interested there are permits required as they limit the number of people per day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4fntxVfqdUcTWFWPcJy-SU1dawpxQ2IwGqCE_hO6vS5LD9RTKBElo-a0ZKnGEnAAmHjfDIqKqhET_JSomEpLRFS9Fnh1Mj-TBXJB5dOrQHafipdBGu3l6PGwCEoaKU-0HIhMD3TVNiA/s1600/DSC_0592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4fntxVfqdUcTWFWPcJy-SU1dawpxQ2IwGqCE_hO6vS5LD9RTKBElo-a0ZKnGEnAAmHjfDIqKqhET_JSomEpLRFS9Fnh1Mj-TBXJB5dOrQHafipdBGu3l6PGwCEoaKU-0HIhMD3TVNiA/s640/DSC_0592.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is behind the parking lot at the Observatory. These mountains, still bear the scars of the 1980 eruption.</td></tr>
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The Forest Discovery Center, needs no explanation. Maybe a simple, "Copters, and puppets and textures, Oh My!" is enough.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJi9GLqn2SLh_IPh8Zow8arYFTlf4MCDlY52-Iu5hgUjDk6ZURV2gV3DtLD86muFfjDU4vdR1prmM3JBtE_9pXxA-RMTWdbB5GSK5lsx5wWoNaZnrJUU8GfXAG_hB529rWbaytsMQUBk/s1600/DSC_0619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJi9GLqn2SLh_IPh8Zow8arYFTlf4MCDlY52-Iu5hgUjDk6ZURV2gV3DtLD86muFfjDU4vdR1prmM3JBtE_9pXxA-RMTWdbB5GSK5lsx5wWoNaZnrJUU8GfXAG_hB529rWbaytsMQUBk/s640/DSC_0619.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1XFFSVt5XDK6PjAhIJE5XfI_hxhojs_3lgT594YN7oNra_ggxFI4NqX2trq96-247-gMFFr1Iuos53jz4RJKkNH5y7XevZiPM-OnGyWoKzSJ-8ydgqCJ5q-3c_GV4ZMGWnHsNOo4oiTQ/s1600/DSC_0620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1XFFSVt5XDK6PjAhIJE5XfI_hxhojs_3lgT594YN7oNra_ggxFI4NqX2trq96-247-gMFFr1Iuos53jz4RJKkNH5y7XevZiPM-OnGyWoKzSJ-8ydgqCJ5q-3c_GV4ZMGWnHsNOo4oiTQ/s640/DSC_0620.jpg" width="422" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KTAvn42NjMSV4k2Noj-7rbH_SEIbpAon6LALIYzhs5f9116Nkz06DjOUnzWz-oNsz_tV-Z7D6aImfmDQ5M5zG76SnJ6iWm5_imLthQxTw4rHvYNSXH4-ZavUFicP7oQaOeFydSWAVNs/s1600/DSC_0623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KTAvn42NjMSV4k2Noj-7rbH_SEIbpAon6LALIYzhs5f9116Nkz06DjOUnzWz-oNsz_tV-Z7D6aImfmDQ5M5zG76SnJ6iWm5_imLthQxTw4rHvYNSXH4-ZavUFicP7oQaOeFydSWAVNs/s640/DSC_0623.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC__w7SChyTALB2ZB88dRRm9KSKLpp8gt8AxIamMxb4CgPDhjjCQlyykwP29dSTfCuePA4EQWsFFQaM9SpBfuiCU9kDlvLCLCSpeTq4YEOXZT-o_ZUg1AuiEW_pjGaU-M7nWk-6D6oMH4/s1600/DSC_0628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC__w7SChyTALB2ZB88dRRm9KSKLpp8gt8AxIamMxb4CgPDhjjCQlyykwP29dSTfCuePA4EQWsFFQaM9SpBfuiCU9kDlvLCLCSpeTq4YEOXZT-o_ZUg1AuiEW_pjGaU-M7nWk-6D6oMH4/s640/DSC_0628.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8EE3DXptTOdCkk5F58yGqEZNpXY9UbGG882cRK0tzLU9EZBMov6cXz4A2ajtSWVTS0cfdxtNyfC5bbT6HNKjftF9aGG5gbT5L6IWUpTjaXl8nOAIaoiPZsI-CACx5zugsse_2TAqpIM/s1600/DSC_0635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8EE3DXptTOdCkk5F58yGqEZNpXY9UbGG882cRK0tzLU9EZBMov6cXz4A2ajtSWVTS0cfdxtNyfC5bbT6HNKjftF9aGG5gbT5L6IWUpTjaXl8nOAIaoiPZsI-CACx5zugsse_2TAqpIM/s640/DSC_0635.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy and Caylen took off with the camera. This is what I found on the card when I was editing tonight. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvIpbWKL2ImwuZOZIWn0ae8MUJaeuXltFtKUMKPbMb9nzqNmz09TENFhpNs-AvLShBypTkL53bdGyyV9U6C2qq_aMbgLM9BkR1JB-i9dxSDp0k7ic6TxGBhLdhYtDr5hE4SV8PgNVHWM/s1600/DSC_0640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvIpbWKL2ImwuZOZIWn0ae8MUJaeuXltFtKUMKPbMb9nzqNmz09TENFhpNs-AvLShBypTkL53bdGyyV9U6C2qq_aMbgLM9BkR1JB-i9dxSDp0k7ic6TxGBhLdhYtDr5hE4SV8PgNVHWM/s640/DSC_0640.jpg" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of different textures to explore.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TJ6i1v3n16H15J3NyUa1RSesV7-BBascjpFoE9eD0UHZF6RSdMiiRzhDghmYN6pELKkcSRCivksiBP02kr-LPaS2bIN_vZ2bEXRNSSWZ3avlkB-mhnliLFT2ho26EV_5MUevJ3K06xw/s1600/DSC_0642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9TJ6i1v3n16H15J3NyUa1RSesV7-BBascjpFoE9eD0UHZF6RSdMiiRzhDghmYN6pELKkcSRCivksiBP02kr-LPaS2bIN_vZ2bEXRNSSWZ3avlkB-mhnliLFT2ho26EV_5MUevJ3K06xw/s640/DSC_0642.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found the puppets, naturally.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTRCHJQAnqqy0JTwJiNHbumwgBKVc17Nceum3TbHW3ighW7tc4h6oGusVSHLDGEiNw5mfcx5rw_otqkJeLEWRJ8x1WawjU3rMXIwBafkbF4cGHz4Clo7Gt9otJlqzby25Yqf34DcEnvYs/s1600/DSC_0653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTRCHJQAnqqy0JTwJiNHbumwgBKVc17Nceum3TbHW3ighW7tc4h6oGusVSHLDGEiNw5mfcx5rw_otqkJeLEWRJ8x1WawjU3rMXIwBafkbF4cGHz4Clo7Gt9otJlqzby25Yqf34DcEnvYs/s640/DSC_0653.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lorelei loved how the pumice stone floated.</td></tr>
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So, then, the not having cell service and the awesome Google maps happened. We decided to rock the good old, "Fly by the seat of your pants." To be clear, there was a planned route, but sometimes when hubby and I travel, we decide to have an adventure. We headed East toward Highway 101 which is the coast highway, but weren't really sure which route we were going to take. We had planned to cross at the big bridge over the Columbia Gorge, but on the way, we saw this other little bridge and thought, "Hey, that looks fun." Wham! Bam! Ferry Ma'am! and a pretty little detour popped us into Oregon the back way.<br />
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A few miles into Oregon, it started to rain. No problem, let's turn on those handy dandy windshield wipers. Oh wait! No, sorry, the driver's side wiper hates us and has gone on strike. Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean. After pulling over, and inspecting it with hubby, he declared it broken and we attempt to stand outside appearing to share a joke and a laugh for the benefit of the three little humans in the car. This is the part of the vacation where hubby drives down the highway looking through my side of the windshield and mommy attempts to act like that is all completely normal. </div>
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Dear Griswold family, thank you for joining our holiday. You are awesome. Love, Me!</div>
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Okay, so that worked for about 20 minutes and we declared it silly, which is of course parent-speak for, "Oh crap, we are going to drive into someone." Hubby pulled into a nursery and this time we both stood outside laughing probably insanely, and formulating a plan, for windshield wiper domination, at 5:30pm...on a Sunday...in a small county. This was about the time that I noticed that the motor was still turning, and perhaps the bolt was just loose. Excellent. Enter friendly Lisa, who is not afraid to ask for help. </div>
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I walked into the Nursery, and found a lovely lady. I said, "Hello, we are a long way from home, we left our tools there and our windshield wiper needs to be tightened." While she did not have tools there, she made a quick phone call to her mechanic in Cannon Beach, to make sure he didn't close before we arrived. Ten minutes later, we were pulling into, Gary's Garage, "the only garage in the county" where, John, took a couple minutes to pop off and adjust our wipers and told us to have a nice day. And that is how we ended up getting a glimpse of Haystack Rock, five days sooner than planned. I'm a firm believer in pay it forward, and we will, but on the way home, we are soooooo stopping in to that nursery with a muffin basket, or a litter of puppies and a unicorn for that dear lady.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAYhd5KcS5qyfvkZDvelUYpTCRbbTRSX-xaYS6T1otU9FgkYnzoiSuCamHUhxb_-OhndK8hfqAN6k6cSEnon1TIXI_n7NCZzI7M9urxcMNKjzYdp5NoIT95S4PmMUoYo_QiRFI1thuZ0/s1600/DSC_0695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAYhd5KcS5qyfvkZDvelUYpTCRbbTRSX-xaYS6T1otU9FgkYnzoiSuCamHUhxb_-OhndK8hfqAN6k6cSEnon1TIXI_n7NCZzI7M9urxcMNKjzYdp5NoIT95S4PmMUoYo_QiRFI1thuZ0/s640/DSC_0695.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haystack rock! Goonies! Awesomeness! I totally asked this rock out and it's free Friday. We will be back,</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost at the hotel, but not too busy to let momma and her babies cross. It's blurry but a magical memory. Lorelei cried from excitement. </td></tr>
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We pulled into the hotel tonight at 10pm. The kids were excited, they oooooed and ahhhhhed at the ocean. Hubby fell over, onto the bed and hasn't moved since. Two, adventurous little humans joined me for a little run on the beach, and now I sit, reviewing this very full day, and looking forward to tomorrow.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpdL5Z1_5P-owlAFxJOtzqpdLFsQVokS40sHdP_CuP6A-V3Z2wZJwL9RsWGd_pujcYWoPrJ43uJqiUPp9x_Jos0eUH3Jxx_KhNE4t57UDtolx7rcOXDJYBbjbwgisX0zzFFoBvLIeIpk/s1600/IMG_9492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpdL5Z1_5P-owlAFxJOtzqpdLFsQVokS40sHdP_CuP6A-V3Z2wZJwL9RsWGd_pujcYWoPrJ43uJqiUPp9x_Jos0eUH3Jxx_KhNE4t57UDtolx7rcOXDJYBbjbwgisX0zzFFoBvLIeIpk/s400/IMG_9492.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I know there will be coffee on the deck, kite flying, and at least a couple of us will be combing the parking lot in search of some rare license plates. Mostly though, it's the impression and the memories that I look forward to. My parents gave me a gift of rich childhood adventures, and it's a legacy we hope to pass on to our kids.<br />
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<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-58338831610321055582012-08-05T10:27:00.003-07:002012-08-05T10:50:58.866-07:00The blur...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">Raising kids can feel like a blur. You wake up in the morning next to a tiny infant snuggling with you, blink, he's a teenager and three inches taller than you. It's realizing the blur that makes me sit quietly and breathe in a million little moments, taking a mental snapshot of the truly extraordinary mundane. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">In the blur, there is a marriage too. I married my best friend and the only person I want to ride this awesome roller coaster with. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">It would be unfair though to pretend that through our adventures, there hasn't been those times we were at risk of losing touch with each other. It's so easy, through the blur, to become roommates, distant. Statistics tell us, that the deck is slightly stacked against marriage. Those same numbers will declare a marriage that involves kids with special needs, at an even greater risk. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">Seeing, and feeling this, means that we go out of our way to make sure that we still stay in touch with the friendship and the connection that made us. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">We have moved mountains, (and damaged credit cards) to have weekends away. Date nights, are part of the monthly budget, even if it means a walk at the river and coffee in a mug from home. However, there is one thing we rarely get an opportunity to do...be in our own house, alone. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">This past week, we suddenly fell into an opportunity where the kids were all at assorted sleepovers for the night. We love our kids, but I'm so not going to pretend that we didn't help them get out. </span><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/AVvXsEj9IJYiGwXYJjzjSytaR1Gvs6pTDzXYoVlYV6KgFBFLdCqGp9g08yQc1jW7WK3m7L8gLEG0acfKH6PALlh278bPOEryJUamP25XDNJjSaSOH_D8sLBi4oeM-fVwVxImumxwkyScwampg5w/s1600/IMG_9012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9IJYiGwXYJjzjSytaR1Gvs6pTDzXYoVlYV6KgFBFLdCqGp9g08yQc1jW7WK3m7L8gLEG0acfKH6PALlh278bPOEryJUamP25XDNJjSaSOH_D8sLBi4oeM-fVwVxImumxwkyScwampg5w/s640/IMG_9012.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We didn't stay home the whole time. Hit some balls at the driving range, which is always good for a laugh. I can either hit the ball 150+ yards or half a foot. </td></tr></tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">The house feels different without kids. It's a little bit empty, and a little bit exciting. We enjoyed the quiet, and missed the chaos. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">Sure we took advantage of the empty house, but more importantly, we talked. We checked in, when it would have been just as easy to check out.</span><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/AVvXsEipk_jmTi__sWMXbcMJFMKajVg6TxO-xigYri_tHSeRfycyuoOay4JAU_7MHWfBnLf9Ml42osBtTz6eKsBEfQoYoybIUgXVmcqmp8eFi3HxJWKf5zU_pW0tSNd6bgQ3Ba0Aznf3jCBXCeU/s1600/IMG_9026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipk_jmTi__sWMXbcMJFMKajVg6TxO-xigYri_tHSeRfycyuoOay4JAU_7MHWfBnLf9Ml42osBtTz6eKsBEfQoYoybIUgXVmcqmp8eFi3HxJWKf5zU_pW0tSNd6bgQ3Ba0Aznf3jCBXCeU/s640/IMG_9026.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After a little dinner, a walk and talk at the river.</td></tr></tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">How do you hold on to those relationships that are important to you? How do you 'get away' in your own home?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16pt;"></span><br />
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</span></div></div>caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-72668722096971414002012-07-31T23:40:00.002-07:002012-08-01T09:48:54.173-07:00Pulling clover...We have been day tripping and following our bliss wherever possible for the last couple of weeks. Today though, today was different.<br />
It was a quieter sort of day.<br />
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Today, I decided to try to tend to the front garden. It gets attention twice a year, whether it needs it or not. While pulling weeds, I flashed back to sitting in the grass as a kid with my mom, sisters, and neighbour. We would just sit in the front yard and talk while we pulled out the clover. I remember learning that clover winds it's way through the grass with an intricate network of stems and that it was like a puzzle, tracing those stems back to the source.<br />
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Suddenly, it was all about the clover. Tracking the stems, and working back to the centre hub. The teenager came outside to offer help and quickly found his way down to the ground as well, learning clover removal techniques.<br />
As we sat there, following the labyrinth, we talked. We talked about all those things that parents and kids should talk about. We talked about school, friends, girls and his plans for life. <br />
He is growing so fast, and in his mind, he is ready to be grown. His dad and I find ourselves struggling with the balancing act that is allowing freedom, while still ensuring that he doesn't try to fast forward through childhood.<br />
We are children for such a short time, and adults for so long.<br />
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As we were pulling and talking a neighbour walked past with her pup. She assessed our work and her first words were, "That's not going to help. You are going to pull that out and it's just going to all grow back."<br />
Smiling, I told her that, "It's not the clover that matters."<br />
Today, it was time spent with my little man that measured my success.<br />
The front yard will just have to wait it's turn.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjpVorNBXhdCR4AdeOXy0zNIkIjNEWIfPdvSSgBr3kUJ6aEjdrWkzrf-jx-rcnUjdyPkAfLD84FSVxVmBLFdqiEA6P-egvnPnTVIzG-XD2zA87Nhn-xmrAmBHrDs7RvIDJFBtoBYtxgw/s1600/DSC_9105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFjpVorNBXhdCR4AdeOXy0zNIkIjNEWIfPdvSSgBr3kUJ6aEjdrWkzrf-jx-rcnUjdyPkAfLD84FSVxVmBLFdqiEA6P-egvnPnTVIzG-XD2zA87Nhn-xmrAmBHrDs7RvIDJFBtoBYtxgw/s640/DSC_9105.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-77503963447071996142012-07-11T18:13:00.001-07:002012-07-11T18:19:15.898-07:00Of labels and walls...<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pssst! Hey! Over here. Can we talk?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, this past week,<a href="http://technorati.com/social-media/article/rapper-50-cent-sticks-foot-in/" target="_blank"> a celebrity in the music world</a>, made some crappy comments to a fan seemingly because the fan mouthed off to him. He told the fan that "he looked autistic" and then went on to say, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;">I don't want no special ed kids on my time line follow some body else."</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Okay, so first off, I would just hate to be a publicist in this day and age. With all the ways for their clients to communicate via social media, I imagine many publicists have a permanent dent in their foreheads from the repetitive 'face-palms' they must do daily. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;">Second, who says that? Really, are there actually people that think it's okay to say things like this? Wait, of course there are. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">See the thing is, that this isn't the first, nor will it be the last time that someone with a mass twitter/facebook/instagram following is going to misspeak. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">After all, regardless of your station in life, we are all human. W</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;">e can recognize that at some point each of us has used our words to inadvertently or intentionally disparage others. So while I was frustrated and disappointed in the words I read, I could accept that the person speaking them made a mistake and needed to be educated. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">When this tweet was published, right out of the gate, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;"><a href="http://www.hollyrod.org/huddle/dear-50-cent-3/" target="_blank">Hollie Robinson Peete wrote an eloquent, well thought out, open letter to the offender.</a> Over instagram and twitter, parents of autistic children sent him photos of their kids tagging #thisiswhatautismlookslike and #whatautismlookslike. <a href="http://statigr.am/viewer.php#/detail/229915625437490733_11490218" target="_blank">I was one of those people.</a> For the most part, this response was in the spirit of education and understanding. However, there was also a response of outrage and anger, which ironically echoed the outrage and anger that the tweet was born from. As the days wore on, with no public apology forthcoming, the anger that bubbled under the surface out of the gate started to rise and words like "thug" "ghetto" and "ignorant" became louder than educate, advocate, and communicate. Unfortunately, it was this anger that was heard and it was the anger, the "outrage" that was reported on. It seems the media has learned long ago, that their audience feeds on the negative aspects of a story first. Although lacking in spiritual nutrition, a headline like, "Parents outraged at 50 cent tweet" garners a lot more traffic than a headline that reads, "Parents of Autistic children patiently advocate for an apology." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">Yes, it sucks that medical diagnosis' are still used in derogatory ways, either as insults, or for laughs. It is discouraging that so many people don't seem to understand what autism truly is, and what it looks like both physically and in behaviour. It is frustrating that there seems to be a collective voice coming from the mainstream media that desires to compartmentalize and simplify what is a complex neurological condition. This misunderstanding only succeeds in further pandering and underestimating a population of truly exceptional human beings. Humans beings with gifts that often go unseen because a medical diagnosis, a label, meant to facilitate understanding, is twisted in a negatively slanted definition. It is this collective stereotype that feeds the miseducation of our population and breeds these derogatory slams.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">It is all frustrating, and so the voices that start out patiently advocating get louder. These voices start getting angry, they start calling names. If the offence starts with labels being used derogatorily, how can it be resolved by continuing to use different labels derogatorily? An angry response not only serves to produce a knee-jerk apology from the offender, it also inflames a population of bystanders, polarizing the response down to those defending the offender and those defending the offended. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;">With a delivered apology, the media has moved on from this story. Outrage, demanded satisfaction and got it. If we are to follow this lead, there is nothing more to discuss. However, I argue, it is the aftermath of feelings that we should all be talking about. The heavy focus on the initial offence blinds us from the lessons in the fall-out. When the story is dead, an autopsy on it is where the real learning begins, because this situation will happen time and time again. Some of the players will change, but the pattern is still there. The celebrity will eventually apologize, because, genuine or not, they have to. The world is watching. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;">In the moment of misspoken quotes, the stakes are not the hearts and minds of those that misspeak. The stakes are the impressions left on the hearts and minds of the bystanders. The stakes are in teaching the bystanders how to respond for our children when we are no longer able to. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;">If we yell instead of advocate, all that is heard is a collective noise, of anger. All that we teach is to respond with noise and anger. If we speak with kindness, and with a desire to educate; we can be heard. Perhaps, without 'outrage' we will not get that publicly demanded apology. However, when given the choice between an apology coerced by outrage, or an opportunity to educate a few more hearts and minds, I choose education. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mahatma Gandhi</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;"> said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." The change I must be is the person that seeks to foster understanding and communication, one heart at a time, in the place where anger once spoke. I must teach that the purpose of a label is for understanding, and not for mudslinging or laughs. If we don't want a medical diagnosis to define our children, if we don't want a label to quantify their existence, then we ourselves must recognize that all labels, when used derogatorily are equally offensive. By defining a person based on their negative actions alone, we cease to find a solution to the problem and instead build a wall. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;">As human beings, we all are complex, and name calling is beneath the dialog we should aspire to. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;">I strive to 'be the change'. I strive to educate and advocate with patience and understanding. It might be exhausting to do it time and time again, but at one point I benefited from patient education. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">Maya Angelou said, "When you know better, you do better." As a parent of children with special needs, I do know better, and I must do better. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">In the battle for the hearts and minds of the bystanders, I have a lot of loud voices to drown out with my one little voice. I don't have a network behind me. I don't have a large social media following. However, if my little voice, joins the voices of several other patient, teaching, advocates, we can be heard.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span></div>caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-55609949522909194232012-07-06T22:33:00.000-07:002012-07-06T22:40:02.248-07:00Always learning....patienceThis week one of our kids has come back to visit us. Six years ago, he lived here for a short time, but left a mark on our family. Six years ago, when we got the call about him needing a place to stay, the man on the other end was solemn. He explained that there was a young man from Japan coming and that he needed to tell us that he had cerebral palsy. He wanted to know if that caused a problem for us having him stay here.<br />
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The question stunned me. I asked, "Is there something I should be aware of? Do I need to make sure that my home is accessible? I don't understand why this is a problem." He alluded to the fact that we were not the first family he spoke to and I stopped him and said, "We would love to have him stay with us."<br />
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During his first visit, he was off at school learning a lot, but there was a little time to play. One night we went to a BBQ at our friends and played badminton. I will never forget watching Keisuke play. He moved like a butterfly chasing that birdie, but he stung like a bee when he kicked our butts, time and time again.<br />
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This week having him back we were so excited to catch up. He was excited as his English was so much better and we have had some really great talks. The other day, we got to talking about disabilities, and I thought we were going to have a conversation about appearances and assumptions, but once again, one of my kids taught me something.<br />
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I asked him about what it was like to have a visible disability, whether it was frustrating when people assumed that his mental abilities were affected as well. For Keisuke, motor control is a challenge. This affects his walk, his movements and his speech. On more than one occasion, I was witness to someone assuming that his cognitive abilities were equal to his motor abilities. Having a little man with an invisible disability, who has trouble with social and emotional regulation, I have been witness to someone struggle to understand why a seemingly normal looking child was behaving in a way that did not mesh with his physical appearance. Having another child with tourettes, I have also bore witness to misunderstanding and assumptions about what it is, and what it should look like.<br />
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However, Keisuke's answer surprised me and made me think. He explained that he came to North America to go to school because here, people with disabilities get help, and are schooled with their peers. He explained that at home, children with disabilities are schooled separately regardless of their abilities and are most often not socialized with their peers. He explained that because of this, many people in Japan do not get to learn about people with disabilities. There is no chance for fostering understanding, because there is no opportunity to misunderstand. He went on to tell me that he prefers it here, where he might be misunderstood at first, but he has the opportunity to educate others and learn for himself.<br />
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It is a truth though. We can get all up in arms about the things that people do or say when confronted by a disability. We can shut people down, or get touchy that people say the wrong thing. We can get indignant and frustrated and even angry. We can, but none of that opens communication. None of those responses advocate or educate. Keisuke, reminded me that patience in the face of misunderstanding, fosters understanding. He reminded me that as a mom to children with differences, I would rather someone say the wrong thing to me, and open a dialogue, than say nothing and remain in the dark.<br />
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So I choose patience in the face of misunderstanding. I recognize that I understand, because children born to me dictated that I must learn. I recognize that it is my job to patiently educate and advocate. I accept that anger and resentment, breeds disconnect and discord. I choose patience in the face of misunderstanding, because I hope that it means I raise my children to do the same, to approach the world with the same grace, courage and intelligence as this amazing young man has shown me.<br />
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Also, I must confess, I love that he still calls me mom.<br />
<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-75835731885722303722012-06-28T22:43:00.000-07:002012-06-30T23:35:38.484-07:0068 days of bliss...It's summer vacation. The kids are home and yes, I am one of those annoying moms who loves having her kids home for the summer. No, they are not perfect angels that play delightfully at all times. Yes, they do fight with each other; with me; with the dog; with the fly that dares to land too close to their cereal.<br />
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However, I look past all that and I am happy. Grateful to have them home. I relish those times when they are lost in playing with each other, laughing and creating memories that I know they will hold onto into their adult years. Those delicious mornings of rolling to a slow start, everyone in their PJ's late into the morning, deciding at the last minute to hit the beach, the river, or hide in the house and pretend we are camping in the backyard.<br />
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These are the days of no school lunches, no wrangling for a spot in the school parking lot. This is a time free from IEP meetings, homework and all the hubbub of the school year. This is a time of quiet, and family, when we close up shop a little and just soak it all in.<br />
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Today started with the knowledge of many changes for the coming school year. Next year there would be kindergarten for a little girl, new staff, a little boy entering intermediate classes. It seems that most people don't like change, even fear change. For me though, I think I've learned that I refuse to classify change as good or bad. Change just is.<br />
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There are 68 days between now and the next school year. You can do a lot of living and loving in 68 days, and I refuse to let any anxiety about change, rob me of one second of my 68 days of bliss. Arriving in the back field to get Graysen, everyone was looking up at the sun in awe. I looked up to see what they were checking out, and there was a rainbow circling the sun. Someone joked that it was a sign of the coming apocalypse. Meanwhile, to me, I saw an omen of good to come. Some people see scary, and some people see magic and some people I suppose, just see a rainbow formed by ice crystals way high up in the atmosphere. It's all about your perspective, or more so, the perspective you choose.<br />
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So, tonight, sitting on our back deck, I felt totally relaxed, and our kids seemed totally relaxed. Usually, it takes us all a couple of weeks to fall into a routine, to really chill and yet we were all just in it. I wondered what changed.<br />
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Maybe the kids picked up on our mood, and it set the tone for the whole family. Who knows? I heard a saying once, "Never worry for more than five minutes about things you can not change." I looked everywhere to try to find out again where it was from to attribute it to someone, but the message is one to hold onto. Sure, it's not an easy feat to master, but it seems to be, that not worrying about that which you can not change, gets easier with practice.caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-58986429762915968782012-06-27T11:03:00.000-07:002012-06-27T16:24:54.300-07:00Moving forwardOver the years, I have found happiness in learning that, the past should always be a warm and fond memory, but we should never choose to live there. All the great adventures in my life involve moving forward, embracing the unknown. Over the years, it has been the times that the road has taken an unexpected turn, that have yielded opportunity for the greatest growth, and the most beauty.<br />
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Six months ago, a dear friend who is, actually more like my fourth sister, told me that they needed an adventure that they were moving. I naturally freaked out (quietly) for a couple of days, and then I embraced it with everything I have. I embraced it, because, always, always, always, the most amazing things in our life, have started with the feeling of, "wait, this isn't supposed to happen like this."<br />
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The more I thought about it, the more I realized, why wouldn't they do this? The world is big, life is short and there are adventures to be had.<br />
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Our first kids (both boys) were born nine days apart, and along with another dear friend, we have raised our children together, as siblings in an extended family.<br />
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There is a lot of amazing in watching little humans grow, when you strip away all the things that everyone tells you to worry about. That is the gift that came with these women. The ability to enjoy all the little seconds of our children growing up, because together, we could always remind each other that the big picture was so much more than, bottle vs breast and all the other polarizations of motherhood. This ability to maintain perspective, and focus on the bigger picture, was an anchor in the early days of parenting. More recently though, as life has thrown us all one curveball after another, that perspective has become a lifeline; a direct route to joy, through all the chaos.<br />
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When I think about it, that is really the simplicity of a lasting relationship; growing together, in differences, in challenges, in laughter and tears. Growing together, through everything.<br />
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When you find people that hold your children in their heart, safe; when they would go to the wall for them as they would their own little humans; when they see you children as they truly are; you keep those people close to you. Together you start your village and that village can take on most anything that life's roller coaster throws at you.<br />
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Years ago, the roller coaster got a little rough for my friend, and together, we discovered the beauty of taking breakables to the dump and throwing them in the bin. If I think about it on a deep level, it was probably healing to be in control of something shattering, instead of having to try to hold everything together as it all falls apart around you. However, at the time, deep was not our friend, so we went more with the whole, "Oooooooo! Things go crash! Make big noise! Funny! Take that world." Cue, hysterical laughter.<br />
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There was something cleansing about it all and that became our secret code. We knew when one of us said they needed a trip to the dump to smash some things that it was time for a little laughter.<br />
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Naturally, a highlight of the whole move was the promise of Auntie wanting to smash her dishes.<br />
So, on moving day we did and we let Lorelei play too. It was a wonderful release of all the stress of trying to sell their house, and as an added bonus, it meant that she HAD to get new dishes for their next place. It also kicked off the laughter and the celebration and set the tone for the day. We were gonna smash those dishes and laugh. We were going to make this fun! We were going to celebrate and again, show our kids how to do hard, how to look forward. How to choose joy, and happiness and excitement over sadness, fear and holding back.<br />
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Meanwhile, Lorelei would like us to move because "Mom, when it's time for us to move, can we smash our plates too?"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
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When the big kids got home, they were sad that they missed out on the plate smashing. While it was weird that the house was empty, it was nothing a little sliding down the stairs on a mattress couldn't cure.<br />
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In that last day, we filled that house with laughter and silliness. Soon enough, that feeling carried forward and there was this communal feeling of being done with those walls, of wanting to pull away from this place, together. We were looking forward, excited about being a part of new adventure with our friends.<br />
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Only the address has changed. Four walls and a postal code do not dictate family, relationships or love.<br />
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In our need to move forward, the next day we planned to visit our friends at their temporary home. There was dinner, laughter, adventure and memories.<br />
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There was swimming in an awesome pool, warming up in a hot tub.<br />
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There was playtime, and there was a magical gazebo with neighbours and a roaring fire and s'mores.<br />
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Blood lines were blurred as kids crawled on Aunts and Uncles laps, and snuggled surrogate grandparents. People who had just met that day, sat around and shared a laugh.<br />
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Walking ten feet outside the gazebo and the singing of the frogs start to drown out the laughter. Standing outside, conversations disappear until it's all just a blur of happy chatter, backed up by the crackle of the fire. <br />
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Kids are fading fast after the days excitement and swallows looked down from the rafters, hoping for treats and trasures left behind.<br />
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Somone ran a line and a TV from their place so we could all watch a man walk across Niagra falls on a tightrope, but really that was a far second to the glow of just being together. Moving forward, one foot in front of the other, making memories, soaking in laughter and teaching the kids that physical distance was the only thing that changed.<br />
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****How do you move forward through the roller coaster of life? What village have you built in your life with family you chose?<br />
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<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-38747509261891352592012-06-10T17:48:00.001-07:002012-06-11T11:18:37.326-07:00Just be......<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A quick post tonight. My wish list for the people that I love....</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Go with love more, stop worrying about all the little things that you think are so big.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You have today, stop wasting your life in judgement, in the past, in worrying about the future.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You have today, live it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When a child comes to you to play and you say yes, you are living today.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Laugh more.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Talk more about beauty and less about politics.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Stop judging what you think is wrong with the world, with today’s society and start learning to find the beauty in it, because you are not going to change people and you live your life in today so ride the wave.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For the love of all things holy, just be, for God’s sake.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If there is one thing I have been blessed to learn in my short life to date, it is that there is little that we can control and the more you try to steer life and hold on with a death grip, the more real living slips away.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Don’t spend time worrying on that which you can not change, it ages you and makes you ugly.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Spend time loving the people you love, knowing them, connecting with them.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Don’t waste time talking about the trivial things, about the negative. Spend time sharing what you find beautiful in this world, what you remember fondly.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is my wish- do it now.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Live, let live and love.</span></div>
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</fieldset>caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-50469365123235374362012-06-06T22:00:00.000-07:002012-06-06T22:00:20.782-07:00Going Ostrich....Like most parents, we have created our own little village to raise our babies. They have become the family we chose and like any family, we have our own little saying and jokes that we use along the way.<br />
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At some point, "going ostrich" became part of our language and it's a favorite of this momma's. I use it a lot. No, I mean, like, a lot! Sometimes I forget and use it around people that have no idea what I'm talking about, and then I have to explain.</div>
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Like ostriches, this momma hides her head in the sand when there is something that she isn't ready for, or doesn't want to face. That way, momma can enjoy the moment, until it's time to deal.<br />
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I talk about going ostrich all the time. Case in point, Lorelei starting Kindergarten in September. Momma is ALL ostrich baby. Sure I poke my head out from time to time, like when I need to fill out paperwork, or bring her to an orientation. I embrace that moment, feel what comes with it, acknowledge that it's happening, all that jazz. However, once the required steps are over, back into the sand goes the head, enjoying the moment, not dwelling on what is to come, but rather soaking in what is right there and now. </div>
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Going ostrich is not denial. I know that there is a world outside my sand pile, with things to be done, sitting on the horizon. However, there is a lot of good going on in my sand pile. There is laughter, and kids, and memories to be made. Many many memories to be made in the sand pile, long before anything outside of it needs my attention. </div>
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Sometimes, this momma goes ostrich for silly things, like not wanting to face the end of summer, or deal with the laundry. However, there have been times when momma has gone ostrich over bigger things.<br />
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Things like, having a Dr confirm a diagnosis for Tourettes, and several learning disabilities, for your oldest, while your youngest week old baby is discovered to have been born thyroid free. Working through the blood tests on a new infant, while your son is working through his school days looking like he's having seizures, is a bit of a hill.<br />
Then take that new baby to her paediatrician appointment with your four year old son and have the ped stop the exam, look over at your son and say, "Does he often line things up like that?" True story!<br />
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BABY THAT RIGHT THERE IS OSTRICH TIME!!!<br />
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Not forever, just a few minutes of sitting in the sand re-grouping, catching your breath and then back at the amazing wonderful that is this roller coaster. This ostrich time, it's a good thing. Just make sure you've always got a good friend in the sidelines willing to pull your head out of the sand if you try to stay too long.<br />
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Somedays ostrich time is just pure magic. A few weeks ago, after Lorelei's practice Kindergarten day, we went out for an early birthday dinner. On the way home, the sun was shining, the night was young and the laundry was waiting at home to suck me back in. I was thinking about our youngest starting school and I looked over at my hubby and said, "Beach?"<br />
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One word and he knew it was time to break out the emergency beach kit from the back of the car. We needed a sunny sunset, sand, and bubbles more than we needed folded socks.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emergency beach kit- every car needs one. Kites, shovels, pails, bubbles, and a frisbee or ball or two. You never know when you are going to have a beach emergency.</td></tr>
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Bubbles are magic. They make the world a happier place. Try it. Next time you are out somewhere, start blowing bubbles and look around. It's not just the kids that break into a giant grin at the sight of them. Bubbles in my car, always mean I have a fast track to a little ostrich time when it all gets too much.<br />
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There's magic in realizing that a setting sun makes for the best warrior/combat poses. The giggles that come from this game makes momma's heart float. See, there's good in the sand.<br />
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Sometimes, in the middle of the ostrich time, I poke my head out for a minute to recognize that Caylen's feet are no longer tiny. Grateful that he is growing strong I push away that wistful feeling of "he was just a tiny baby yesterday" and instead grab a firm hold on, "I'm so glad I get to watch him grow."<br />
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There is magic in the mixing of water and sand. Really, how can laundry compete with this?<br />
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Tomorrow, there will be time to think about what is to come, but for today, watching them play tickle tackle frisbee is all that matters.<br />
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How do you go ostrich?<br />
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<br /></div>caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-42701353070119851192012-05-28T00:24:00.000-07:002012-05-29T00:26:44.305-07:00Sunshine is where you make it....Thirty six years hurling around the sun on this beautiful blue marble. It's been a fantastic ride to date. Daily I am hit with those moments of silent gratitude, moments I sit back and think, "Life is so good." This is about the time and my brain counters with a concern that at some point there has to be a wrench thrown in. There has to be ups and downs on this sweet roller coaster ride we call life.<br />
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A little reflection reminds me, that, actually, there have been lots of "character building" moments. It's just that I ride the roller coaster with both arms in the air, screaming with laughter.<br />
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For thirty four years, my birthday claim to fame was that it was always sunny on my birthday. Some years I would feel the sunshine before I even opened my eyes. Other years, it might start overcast, but at some point, the clouds would part, and the bright orange ball would shine bright. Still relying on the outside to fuel my inside, I would tell myself, "It's always sunny on your birthday, because you are a sunshiny girl."<br />
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Recently, we have had some tricky years. Years when the definition of normal became a moving target; until we realized that normal was a four letter word, and extraordinary was the new black. Through all that, I still held onto the fact that life was good and it was all how you chose to ride the ride.<br />
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This year, my hubby offered to chase the sunshine. He found a beach less than two hours drive, with a sunny forecast. While that would make for a great story about finding your own sunshine, I realized that I needed to let the chips fall where they may. I needed to find sunshine within the stormy skies.<br />
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In life, I have learned that there is pure joy dancing in the rain and sunshine always lives in your heart, if you choose it. Today that lesson finally came full circle, and I arrived at a place of comfort and rest within it's truth.<br />
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My sunshine today was my own. It came from within and it was within the people that I love. It was in our oldest making me breakfast in bed (for an army) and then having all three kids share it with me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, the date on that yogurt is May 13th. For all I love the boy, I couldn't eat it, and had to tell him.</td></tr>
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It was in hubby suggesting a drive in a rainstorm to pick up a new gadget for the camera.<br />
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It was in the moment when Graysen hugged me and said, "Happy Birthday" and Lorelei wrapped my hand cream up in a cloth and gave it to me as a gift. It was the journal that Caylen put together by hand and the card that Lorelei drew while I was in the bathroom.<br />
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It was comfortable coffee with a dear friend and love from friends that were far away but close in my heart.<br />
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It was not buoyed by the weather, but rather, it shone independent, because it was.<br />
Life is sunshine, you just have to let it in, and remember, it's always right there, just behind the clouds.<br />
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So today, the rain was comforting and welcome. After 34 years of just sunshine, I've learned it's the rain with that sunshine, that really makes things bloom.<br />
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As soon as I finished writing this post, at about 8:30 I felt light through the window behind me. It was heading to bed for the night.<br />
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Calling a friend I pulled the, "I don't care that you are in your jammies, it's my birthday, the clouds are parting, and I'm losing the light. Be ready in two."<br />
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She thought I was insane, but all the best people are.<br />
Reward.......Waaaaa-pam! The clouds parted and there was awesomeness. Beautiful, pink, bright fleeting awesomeness. Not sunshine, but I knew it was there, just behind the clouds. It feels like the secret to true happiness is knowing that there is always sunshine, sometimes you just have to find it, yourself.<br />
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Finally, tonight, I dragged my hubby out to a cemetery by our house to try out my new cable release for the camera. I took my first night time long exposure. While it exposed, we danced to Ingrid Michaelson, and laughed. When it developed, we looked in excitement and I laughed remembering that I'd forgotten to set the focus to infinity. I've got no where to go but up from this image, and it inspires me to learn.<br />
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It's going to be a great year. Night night.<br />
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<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-54495863129115976892012-05-25T15:44:00.000-07:002012-05-26T17:40:53.602-07:00Milestones....This morning, I was reminded, those that crow loudest sometimes need a little boost too. Our little girl was going to Kindergarten practice today, and she was not her confident self. Today's one hour mini session was a teaser for all the kids starting school next year, and more importantly, a reality check for all the parents. Having been down this road a couple of times now, I tried to tell myself that this was just another step. It doesn't matter what you tell yourself though, because your heart always knows the truth.<br />
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I sat down next to my girl and asked, "What are you worried about?"<br />
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"Momma, I WON'T KNOW ALL THE NUMBERS." She cried, emphatically.<br />
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Often I wonder at this strong little girl. So sure of herself, so knowing. Often we forget her age and joke that we think she is an 80 year old woman, who came back for one more wild ride in this life. Lorelei is here for the party. She is here to embrace every delicious second of this life. Rarely does she give herself permission and time to recognize her fears. She replaces that nervousness with bravado and a fierce determination that she can talk away her butterflies. Seeing her take a quiet moment to offer vulnerability and voice her worries is a relief. These moments, a reminder to support her strength, but also help her recognize and accept that her vulnerability is just as valid.<br />
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"Oh baby, it's okay to be nervous but I promise you, you don't need to know your numbers. You are going to learn all that. Mommy has been to school and she is still learning, every single day. That is the best part of life, always learning, always discovering."<br />
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Her eyes got wide as she whispered, "Really?"<br />
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"Really!" I nodded. With that, her whole body relaxed in the new knowledge that not knowing is just another exciting adventure.<br />
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My own nervousness arrived us at school earlier than usual. I told myself quietly that this was a good thing. This meant more time for Lorelei to adjust to the kids, but in truth, it was momma who needed time to adjust.<br />
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Graysen and Lorelei climbed out of the car and trying to slow my breathing, I reminded myself that though the urge to hold onto my girl tight was so strong, she was my girl that needed to fly. She needed this adventure. I am forever a "never say never" mom. Choosing to keep our options open, homeschooling has always been one of those options, just not yet exercised. When Caylen went to Kindergarten, we told ourselves, that if it wasn't a good fit, we could always homeschool. That permission to change our minds, our exit strategy, has always been a comfortable safety net for an "incase" moment.<br />
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Why then today was I ready to throw the brakes on the whole shebang?<br />
Watching the two of them walk to the crosswalk I wanted to shout, "Stop, rewind. Let's go home. School is cancelled. Forever!"<br />
Parenting is all about adjusting and readjusting. Remembering our "exit strategy", one foot in front of the other, we made it across the crosswalk.<br />
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Feelings from eight years ago, came flooding back. Caylen going to school for the first time, I remember feeling this sense of panic with every step towards the first big day. This worry that there were all these hours in the day that would be trusted to someone else. Giving up that control, releasing it, came in part with developing a fantastic communication with the school and his teachers.<br />
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It came from seeing him blossom and grow in his new adventure. As he is a child that craves human interaction, I learned quickly to adapt and realize that him being at school did not mean giving up control. Instead, it meant opening our parenting world up to include some fantastic, gifted team mates. A realization came quickly, that the saying, "It takes a village" meant not only the family and friends you chose, but also the educators that cared deeply for your children. Those gifted guides that work in tandem with willing families, opening their village up to another level of amazing. This was a lesson we learned even more so with Graysen. Knowing instinctively of his needs, there was this fear he wasn't ready, but we charged ahead, knowing that the exit strategy was always there, waiting in the sidelines. The gift of our teammates for him was ten fold. His teachers, through the years, all beautiful humans that genuinely liked him and saw Graysen, not a label. This has given him a secure place to learn and grow and it has given us the gift of healing, realizing that there are those that see our child and not a problem.<br />
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All these memories and lessons ran through me as Lorelei stood close to me. It felt like she was testing to make sure that this was still the same safe little cocoon she knew from all her times volunteering in her brother's classes. She took in the kids playing, giving me a front row seat to the moment when her curiosity and playful spirit, eventually tipped the scales on her uncertainty. Like watching a bucket spill over, she slowly leaned forward and then ran for the roundabout, climbing all the way to the top. A look of relaxed bliss spread across her features as she took in the playground from her new vantage point. When did her legs get long enough to climb to the top?<br />
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My sister and I had a talk one day about having kids and we came to the realization that the image we held in our mind of ourselves as mother's, was an image of us with young children. We never fast forwarded to what it might look like parenting growing children. Instead we were stunted, resting in the eternally Peter Pan outlook of a motherhood defined only by babies and toddlers.<br />
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There is so much amazing past all the angst of diapers, and feedings. Past first steps and teething, there was this whole world of wonder when you realize it feels good, watching them grow. Something about having newborns, allows you to hold onto your own youth. Part of me mourns the end of that, but more so I am surprised to find myself excited to watch them carry on, to adventure and discover in this world.<br />
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The bell startled me. Snapping me out of the conversations with other moms. The, "me too's" and the "can't believe your little one is old enough already" faded quickly, as kids scattered into their classrooms.<br />
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Our girl ran to the kindergarten room, and stopped short outside the door. She wore her nervous excitement in every fiber of her being. In her hand she held a picture, that this morning, she had insisted she needed to draw for her teacher. Once inside, shyly handing it over, all her uncertainty melting the second she started explaining her artwork.<br />
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Teacher formalities out of the way, she made fast friends with a few little girls and took over the puzzle table. This was about the time that I was released dismissively with a quick kiss and a, "You can go have your coffee now mom. I love you."<br />
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Walking slowly to the door, it hit me, this feeling like I was getting away with something. Like it was all too easy. Part of me wanted her to need me, to ask me to stay, but this ain't momma's first Rodeo. Knowing she would be fine, that she would miss me, but she would be okay, I kept going, inertia pushing me out the door. Muttering something to the teacher about being given permission to leave, knowing that if I stopped, I wouldn't start again. Leaping clear of the door, a tad giddy, I may have made eye contact with some mom's and let out a tiny, "Woohoo!" letting inertia continue to push me to the car.<br />
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Inside the quiet warmth of the car, that giddy feeling was instantly overcome by a wave of sadness. For the last 13 years, I have had a little adventurer home with me, to take on the day. This September would be something else entirely.<br />
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When Caylen went to school, I tried to shush all those voices of worry, or sadness. I tried to fall in line with the response I thought I was supposed to have. 13 years into this parenting thing though, I've learned that it's all okay. The sadness, the nostalgia, the worry, the feeling of losing control, the excitement and the giddy. It's all valid, and it's all going to be okay. It's just another amazing adventure we are standing overlooking.<br />
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She is our third baby, so the all these feelings are less, but also more; different, but the same. She is our bonus human, and so like everything with her, I try to take it in and soak it up as much as I can, because this is the last time I am stepping through these milestones, and bittersweet seems to be the word of the year.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HA1ojDfylW1c7vhgBzwySG4_3oVcDFi5ZYPsdQSQ8rji7SGBeFtkTToeVvKr-tFBvSn4iBSDGlMuirgZj4hN9NT685oURukW_wxqxASH0DXAa_Q9TZlUh4U8jCOVi4j1noNuHRa9DTA/s1600/DSC_6600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_HA1ojDfylW1c7vhgBzwySG4_3oVcDFi5ZYPsdQSQ8rji7SGBeFtkTToeVvKr-tFBvSn4iBSDGlMuirgZj4hN9NT685oURukW_wxqxASH0DXAa_Q9TZlUh4U8jCOVi4j1noNuHRa9DTA/s640/DSC_6600.jpg" width="422" /></a></div>caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-6888443151476937702012-05-19T21:00:00.000-07:002012-05-21T15:35:26.760-07:00The Bravery of Prince Graysen.....Once upon a time there was a young Prince named Graysen. He lived in a lush green kingdom, with his royal family. Young Prince Graysen was born into this world with the ability to see things in a way that others miss. He was always wrapped up in details that others didn’t notice, and rarely paid attention to that which was important to the other subjects of the kingdom. Some people in the kingdom saw his view of the world as a defect, but really it was just a difference and they were missing the magic of the world through his eyes. <br />
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Prince Graysen was born into the world with a destiny to tame the many worry dragons that swarmed around him. To most of the subjects in the kingdom, these dragons were invisible, and so they did not understand his quests. However, to those that did see his battles, they knew he was a great, and brave warrior. <br />
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On this particular day, the worry dragon “Rides-a-bike” had been circling with more intensity than in all the past years combined. It was a dragon that his parents, the King and Queen (yes Queen, momma wears a tiara driving the royal minivan on the royal carpool), had pushed to the side, choosing instead to focus their young son on other more pressing battles. At long last though, the time had come for the young prince to face down this dragon and conquer it, once and for all. <br />
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Prince Graysen was afraid and cried as he jumped on his wheeled steed. His mother, hating that she had to send her son into this battle, wanted nothing more to run into the castle with her boy and lock the dragons out forever. She knew though, a dragon ignored, breeds more dragons, and no locks could keep them out. Her job was to support him through these battles in childhood, so that he held the tools in his adult years to walk this world along side his dragons as old friends. <br />
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Prince Graysen also knew that it was time, but with fear holding tight, the dragon had the upper hand and the young Prince found himself forgetting where his weapons for battle were. <br />
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His parents, the King and Queen, realized that he needed to be reminded of the rewards that come to those brave warriors that tame their worry dragons. They told him of the great trophy, Minecraft for Xbox 360. If you don’t know about Minecraft, the royal princes have declared it akin to kittens, sliding down a rainbow at Christmastime. Anywho, the trophy Minecraft for Xbox 360, would be his if he made this dragon his pet. <br />
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This was a truly great trophy. Prince Graysen had known it was being made available to the royal trophy cabinet on May 9th, as he had been tracking it’s release for about a year. He had also been talking at his mother, the Queen about it, most every waking second, for that same amount of time. The Queen explained that while it was available, the only thing that would unlock the royal credit card was Prince Graysen taming this dragon and adding it to his collection of dragon pets. <br />
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Prince Graysen was unhappy with the rules of the kingdom and stomped around decreeing that someone should lose their head. He fell into an invisible hole on the sidewalk, melting down into a puddle of frustration and futility. Thankfully Prince Graysen was not yet leader of his land, because it appeared that it would have been the Queen's head on the chopping block.<br />
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In time Prince Graysen understood that the terms of the quest would not change and he helped the Queen create a plan to tame this dragon and win the trophy. The queen suggested 18 battle days for this victory, knowing secretly, that the young prince would not need nearly that many.<br />
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On the first day of battle the young Prince went out with the wise Lady Tracey of the tribe ‘life coach’.<br />
Lady Tracey was a great trainer of young Princes and Princesses, who held the same world views as Prince Graysen. She understood the quests that the young prince was required to challenge in his life, and she was another voice of support and training for the Prince. She joined him on the battlefield, the young prince took deep breaths and he was very brave. He wielded his great power and managed to make six definite blows against Dragon “Rides-a-bike”. Three times lady Tracey coached these blows and three times, Prince Graysen told her, “I’ve doth got this.” While the blows were short, they were strong and steady. <br />
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Prince Graysen came inside the royal castle victorious and encouraged that this dragon would soon be among his beautiful menagerie of dragon pets. Inside, he told his mother the Queen of his great battle, unaware that the queen had proudly looked out the castle window and watched him face that dragon head on. She had watched, her heart bursting with joy in seeing that the young prince was discovering what she had known all along, that he had the power to do great things in his life. <br />
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The young prince and the queen sat around the royal dining room while the cooks worked on dinner in the kitchen. (Okay, so there aren’t any royal cooks and the queen was actually the one doing the cooking, but a girl can dream, can’t she?) They stood over the battle plan, writing down the details of the day's successes, and planning for tomorrows epic clash.
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That night the young prince slept uneasily, concerned for the next day. Upon waking, he spent most of the morning bargaining with the Queen, attempting to circumvent the terms of this battle. The queen held fast, knowing that the dragon “Rides-a-bike” was only a small part of a larger life quest. That quest being the young prince learning to trust in himself, in his brave heart and to take chances.<br />
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That morning, Prince Graysen went to the royal school to learn from the royal awesome teachers who understood his view of the world and his quests. When he shared with them, the battle that was required later that afternoon, they affirmed that the power was within him, and that they believed in him, and that he should to.<br />
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Try as he might to stall the march of time, the young prince soon found himself back at the royal castle. It was a warm, beautiful day in the kingdom. The young prince’s older brother and younger sister eagerly grabbed their horseless, wheeled, contraptions and spilled out into the street. <br />
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The young prince went to his mother, making a feeble protest or two. He looked his mom clearly in the eyes (or close enough) clarifying, “How do I know that the rules won’t change if I am victorious over the worry dragon “Rides-a-bike”?” <br />
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His mother smiled and confirmed, “When you ride your horseless, wheeled contraption around the street, just like your older brother Prince Caylen, the trophy will be yours.”<br />
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The young Prince watched his big brother effortlessly glide and swoop up and down the road. He stood still for a moment. The queen watched him processing the task at hand, wondering what he must be thinking, wondering if the battle it was too soon for this quest.<br />
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Slowly, the Queen saw a change come over the young prince. For the first time she saw determination, growing in his eyes. She saw his body grow still, and he seemed to dig down deep within him, reaching for weapons he had stored away for just such an occasion. The Queen followed the young Prince onto the battlefield. She held the back of the horseless, wheeled contraption, but almost instantly upon entering the great arena, the young prince cried, “Let go!” <br />
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He peddled, wobbled, wavered, and stopped. He scrambled to gain his footing as the dragon circled around for another pass. Again, the queen started with him, and again, he pedaled, wobbled, wavered and stopped, this time finding his footing a little faster. The dragon, circled again, blowing fire, and roaring at the young prince, yet the great winged creature could not touch him. The young prince’s determination had created a shield that the dragon could only slam up against. Desperate to avoid the leash the young prince was carrying, the great dragon continued to hammer away at the shield, trying to build on the boy's shakiness. <br />
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The battle waged on and on. The queen watched as her son fought with all his might, stopping, starting, over and over, each time finding his footing faster than the last. No longer was he allowing her to help him back onto the field when he stumbled. He pressed into the battle, alone, and with each new attempt the Prince fought back faster than the last. <br />
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The queen, watching him charge head on, steadfast, knew, today was the day that this great dragon would fall. <br />
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The dragon, raged and slammed against the shield, one last time with all his might. The young warrior fell hard to the ground. The shield closing in close against the young prince, so that even the queen could feel the vibrations from the wings of the great beast, and the heat from it's firey breath. The queen felt the waiver in her son's resolve. Getting back up, he turned to her and whispered, “I really, really want that trophy mommy.”
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The queen wanted to hug him, to tell him that from this day forward, she would slay all his dragons. She was conflicted; wanting to use her veto power to negate the rules of the land, but her heart told her with one last push this battle was all but won. <br />
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She whispered back, “Are you going to let your worry dragon get in the way of your Minecraft trophy?” <br />
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“No.” He replied.<br />
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“Then tell your worry dragon, ‘Go away. I want the Minecraft Trophy.’ ” <br />
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“Go away worry dragon, I want the Minecraft Trophy. I want to ride my horseless, wheeled contraption!” The young prince’s voice slightly shaky, but there was a steadiness bubbling from deep inside. <br />
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With that, he put his feet on the pedals, once, twice, three, four times; the dragon roared, each time, with less ire, less strength. Slowly, the gap between the young prince and the dragon closed, as the great beast circled, closer, and closer, calmer, and calmer. With one final push of resolve, Prince Graysen was suddenly riding his horseless, wheeled contraption, and the dragon was trotting along side him, feisty, but leashed. <br />
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“That’s how it’s done.” The queen softly cheered as she watched her young boy circle, victory lap after victory lap. He fell in line with his older brother, exploring the road in front of the castle. The dragon, while still spirited, seemed so much smaller now, as it padded alongside the young prince. The queen was hit with a ‘heartbust’ of joy as she watched her young boy settle into his new skill. <br />
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After, all the victory laps, after the royal family and assorted villagers passing by cheered, the young prince turned to his mother and father and asked if the trophy was now his. With a smile, his parents took him into the castle, retrieved the royal credit card and unlocked the Minecraft for Xbox 360 trophy. <br />
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As the royal Internet was downloading the trophy into the royal Xbox case, the queen took her son upstairs to record his victory on his battle plan. The prince drew confetti on day two of the plan, and his mother spoke to him softly, “Do you see now, that you had the power to do this all along? The only thing that stood in your way was you believing in yourself. You can do anything in this world Prince Graysen, if you just trust and believe in yourself.”</div>
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He hugged her and disappeared into the royal gaming room to discover his trophy with his older brother.<br />
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The queen let the events of today's battle wash over her. She found herself grateful that having a young Prince born to these quests, meant that she had the perspective to celebrate these battles in a way that she might have missed without this destiny. She reminded herself that in time, all battles will be won. In his own time, her young prince will rule his world with courage and strength. While his reign might look different from that of his royal siblings, it would be right and beautiful all the same.<br />
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<br />caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-79409300403941322932012-05-13T03:10:00.000-07:002012-05-19T19:01:53.657-07:00Balance...This morning I was getting dressed. The house was already moving, the boys in their morning routine. The sound of the garage door opening, told me that hubby was taking out the trash. Woot woot! One of the only jobs I avoid by pretending it simply doesn't exist.<br />
Meanwhile, I was drawn to the happy chatter of a four year old, one room over.<br />
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She. Was. In. It!<br />
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There was a whole world in her room. Voices of all the different characters floated through the house. Lego Hello Kitty and crew, were fraternizing with Barbie, who all appeared to be trying to crash a BBQ at the Fisher Price Dollhouse. I walked over to her door. Lorelei had dressed herself, again in something mismatched, yet surprisingly it worked.<br />
The floor in front of her dresser, looked like "backstage at fashion week'.<br />
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While I could have been bothered that all the work to sort the toys out, to carefully fold those clothes, was wasted, I just couldn't muster up the frustration.<br />
It all melted away as I reminded myself what a beautiful thing it is to have a child that knows how to play. That is the magic of being mom to such different little humans. I learned years ago, that not all children instinctively know how to play, and so I celebrated. I celebrated and I reminded myself that clean rooms do not make memories. I listened quietly for a few more minutes, letting her happy dialogue float past me, and quietly walked away.<br />
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I went into the kitchen and started the coffee, looking up in time to see hubby walking down the hall. Turning on his cellphone, without missing a beat, he smiled at me saying,<br />
"Just in case you are wondering, Lorelei is in Japan right now."<br />
"Japan huh? Nice!" I laughed.<br />
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I started unloading the dishwasher, and soon our little girl walked into the kitchen to join me. Sister loves a good dishwasher unloading session. I am her captive audience as we put away the dishes and reload, and I'm happy to listen to her chatter as we do it, knowing soon enough the shine of this job will wear off and it will become a chore instead of a treat.<br />
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Today though is different. She grabs a spoon that needs to go in the bucket on the counter and heads over. I snicker quietly to myself, waiting, anticipating the request for help in reaching that I know is coming.<br />
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Yet, nothing. I look over and I'm stunned to see her reaching up and putting the spoon away all by herself, still chattering, oblivious to the fact that her momma just had a reality check that time does not stand still. She grabs a few more and I just stare, wondering, when did this happen? When in the four years of life, and amazing, and insane, and exhausting and blur, when did she grow into this young girl? I snapped a quick shot and looked on the screen to see in the bright light of the morning, that in her facial features, the baby was all but gone, replaced by little girl.<br />
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Today, the weekend hung over me. So many balls in the air, so much to do to prep. Balance had it's bags packed and was heading out the front door. I was about two steps behind it, ready to run from all that needed doing, in favour of playing outside in the sun with our youngest. I reminded myself, balance.<br />
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I raced around the house, getting out stuff for dinner, throwing a load of laundry on, hanging another load on the line to dry. I washed the counters, ran a broom along the floor, checked and sent emails to teachers and commitments, and ran a cloth over the bathroom surfaces.<br />
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In between, Lorelei and I sat on the deck and had a chat over breakfast (her and I) and coffee (me). We enjoyed the musical thrum of a hummingbird that came past for a sip from the feeder.<br />
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We marvelled as we managed to spot that same hummingbird, perched, in our tree. Such a balanced contrast to it's normally constant motion. </div>
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Convinced that I'd met the requirements for keeping the house needs to a dull roar, I grabbed the camera and the kid and ran for the car. We grabbed bagels and milk along the way, and landed at the Blue Heron Nature Reserve for a little adventure. Our goal, finding the creatures that lived there; a tall order when you are travelling with a chatty, silly four year old.<br />
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Momma saw a lot of Herons, a frog, some birds.<br />
Lorelei saw the cat that lives at the reserve. She and the cat; it was all about them today.<br />
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So while I was tempted to push things, to drag her down a path to find a frog, to sit still by the water and wait for a bunny, it was not my agenda that mattered today. What mattered was this moment with my girl who will be grown in a blink.<br />
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I sat and watched her talk to the cat. I watched her say hello to a couple and then charm them by telling them that she lived in Canada.</div>
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I followed her lead as we left and walked down the road to a farm where the horses seemed even more interested in her, than she was in them.</div>
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I took in the day, the sunshine, our girl. I forgot all the things I thought needed doing, the places I expected I should have been, and I breathed in that moment, in the only place I needed to be, in that now. I balanced.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkB1kC0byVWKqh0crhfzRKEs02ramkSIa6OyNA5KyGL5ZITNjE_TeZHnV6w9oHxJZgfoiyW3RadFfexTdx2DQuVLKgz-rZrVYr7lOurdoZbNxX41OmbRhY5RlulCP9bvEx3GUai5YcfA/s1600/DSC_4964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkB1kC0byVWKqh0crhfzRKEs02ramkSIa6OyNA5KyGL5ZITNjE_TeZHnV6w9oHxJZgfoiyW3RadFfexTdx2DQuVLKgz-rZrVYr7lOurdoZbNxX41OmbRhY5RlulCP9bvEx3GUai5YcfA/s640/DSC_4964.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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It feels like this is the motto for my life, my lesson for my time on this earth. I'm the all or nothing girl, or at least I used to be. Becoming a mom, an adult, learning to love the skin I'm in, has given me the gift of learning balance. Balance in my day, my heart, my life. I fall down, I get back up, I try again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02ClJ8JJ6Md4q-Jb7ZrtI6GvKUrZvfb5MXs5PR7CO1Vy7U_vOjfilHF85RBmYgQaEiEX9jc0YZQjjQ3QjBOX3nMM-ZFecgj-Z2MT8LrvL7dZBZSI1iNIOmcz8pT0itNq2h6JfX2_IjnM/s1600/DSC_4967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02ClJ8JJ6Md4q-Jb7ZrtI6GvKUrZvfb5MXs5PR7CO1Vy7U_vOjfilHF85RBmYgQaEiEX9jc0YZQjjQ3QjBOX3nMM-ZFecgj-Z2MT8LrvL7dZBZSI1iNIOmcz8pT0itNq2h6JfX2_IjnM/s640/DSC_4967.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-63611202976690561692012-05-10T22:26:00.001-07:002012-05-19T19:01:40.094-07:00Bliss is....Tonight I laid in bed, after a truly full weekend and just took in the amazing that was two sleeping babies, sprawled across every possible inch of bed they can claim.<br />
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It's those moments that I am quiet and take a moment to just fully embrace the bliss that is this simple life of family and love.<br />
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Our story is no different from anyone else's. Our challenges and triumphs are repeated in families far and wide. However, the gift of little people is that ability to truly refine down that which really matters. In my version of the day, all the little annoyances, the negatives, the challenges are filtered through a heavy dose of humour and sunshine.<br />
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When I look at it that way, bliss is really simple.<br />
It's deciding halfway through Friday, that it's the weekend and springing the kids early from school for a picnic. Is it all bliss? If you choose it, it is.<br />
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You can focus on the fact that surprising your autistic son at school for an impromptu picnic means dealing with the cyclical meltdown all the way to the preteen's school, which only intensifies when the preteen gets in the car and picks a fight. You could focus on the fact that as soon as you get to the river the sun disappears behind the clouds, which open up, and then spend the next 45 minutes fluctuating between sun and rain. You could, but you'd miss all the bliss.<br />
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You'd miss that moment when the eight year old remembered for the hundredth time, that surprises ARE good, or that moment when the boys forget to bicker and realize that they like each other.<br />
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You'd miss the moment when they realized that trying to take a picture of all of us together is hilarious.<br />
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You'd miss the laughter that comes when the rain falls again and we huddle together and try to pretend that it's sunny, or the squeal of joy to discover mom brought double chocolate cookies. You'd miss that moment when walking back, you see the boys enjoying each other, and big sister lovingly patting little sister on the head.<br />
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You'd miss that moment when the eight year old forgets that he didn't want to come and instead he falls back to grab your hand and say, "Thank you for taking us here. It was fun."<br />
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Moments like this, I will myself to take pictures with my mind. The kind of images that you can feel and smell and hear when you close your eyes at night. The kind of frozen moments that I can hold close when they are grown with babies of their own.<br />
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Bliss is simple. Everyday, in the whirlwind that is life, that is raising a family, there are a million opportunities to call it in, to write it off, to declare it bad. I don't want to live like that though. I look at the time we have had as parents already. Our oldest, born to us, is almost 13. That happened in a blink. I'm certainly not wasting another blink worrying about all the little things that won't matter in 20 years.<br />
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What will matter in 20 years, is remembering the soft deep single snore of a little girl laying next to you sleeping. It will matter that the eight year old came into our room again and fell asleep on me, his little body relaxing into a sound sleep. The laughter will matter. The picnics in the rain will matter. The 100th time we taught Graysen that surprises are great, will matter.<br />
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Everything else is just what tries to distract us from what matters.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGbc27Hvf_8Msewwc7BmZcrASsvS0Rs8UcYktbIYs1QJhg2uLtTw9khAMo8yaUbQE176M2n98fOaZe2XSQZoTw0GyBChc3l9OV-Zh8nK4A9LxJwSvZzJOGT5EqV2XtDU0nJ9H9cm5cAQ/s1600/DSC_4689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGbc27Hvf_8Msewwc7BmZcrASsvS0Rs8UcYktbIYs1QJhg2uLtTw9khAMo8yaUbQE176M2n98fOaZe2XSQZoTw0GyBChc3l9OV-Zh8nK4A9LxJwSvZzJOGT5EqV2XtDU0nJ9H9cm5cAQ/s400/DSC_4689.jpg" width="265" /></a></span>caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6641728332594717093.post-7263367139290321132011-09-17T09:59:00.000-07:002012-05-10T22:53:04.015-07:00Hold on little buddy.<span class="Apple-style-span">Woot woot, all aboard the Crazy Train. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Hmm just typing that brings to mind images of Ozzy Osborne looking mildly insane, but in that hilarious way, not at all intimidating like he was aiming for. So September....September means the chaos begins.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 78%;">She just kept trying to stuf<span class="Apple-style-span">f sweet potatoes through a mouth hole that didn't exist. Like a good mommy, I videoed it, and watched in horror and amusement. I was horrimused.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">This year we are one kid light as the big girl is in University. Having trouble keeping score? The big girl- older borrowed daughter number two that is now part of this </span><span class="Apple-style-span">family. She looks nothing like any of our children, unlike older borrowed daughter number one. This confuses people when the kids call her sister, which in turn amuses us. We love her and her older brother to death. Older brother is, older borrowed son. He is biological brother to older borrowed daughter number two, has his own apartment and is in his third year of university. Our exchanges are mostly about counselling him in how not to get kicked out of his apartment for throwing parties and how best to preserve his liver for future use. Clear as mud? Need a diagram? Sorry- moving on.<br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span">Okay, so kids living under this roof now number one, two, three. This September brings a new thing, a buddy for little G to play with.<br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">No, not a peer but rather a lady th</span>at comes in and tries to help us teach his amazing brain to fake it till he makes it for the rest of the world that "just don't get him".</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">She is lovely and all about a good impression. I think I scared her when I said, </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">"Oh sister, you are in. If we didn't like you, you wouldn't have made it through the front door."<br /><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">In the coming weeks look for fun posts like "Little G's buddy tries to make him leave the house." and "Little G's buddy publicly humiliates him by making him ride a two wheeled death machine (aka bicycle)." We </span>will round out the buddy series this month with "Little G and his buddy go to the pool AKA what it would look like if a cat went swimming."</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">September also brings the start of C-man's theatre classes. Basically it is minor hockey for dramageeks. It all culminates to two weeks in January with 18 hour days and a giant grin on his face that says, " I love this, bring it on. More more more."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">A few years back I decided to help out with the props and took the job over. Given my background in theatre and my inability to balance things I love, it of course became a 1500 hour position with momma gluing handles on giant aluminum butter knives at a shop, in a questionable part of town, at 3am. Totally sane.</span><br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653382327087121970" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyzzZ-Owecd96GjwuatjwTbRLR-DtmpOMTo_MJltzZ0zgqshiU6N4k0RtpMXJbLLx4bS3nv9th0AdUZQmX_CiNdGrGce54681sTQ099fBH616EhMbzktAgDmjMvNG63e6IpwUz44riKo/s320/DSC_8282.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 212px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 320px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span">Little L, well sh</span>e starts the year of experiencing all the world has to offer.</div>
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This means that she pwns Thursday morning ballet, is gonna ride a pony and sample assorted other stuff. This all helps mom pretend that Kindergarten is not happening next year.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Momma is all ostrich baby. Head in the sand, best way to fly.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 78%;">Shhh look how quiet and mellow. Let's pretend our days are always this calm umkay?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Hubby, also a theatre freak, starts on his show build at the school he is teaching at. He does the sets and the light an</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">d sound. Every year he has a few dedicated kids that really dig in and own the show and their part in it. He loves to see kids inspired, but there are always a few that are more like herding cats.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 78%;">Exhibit A: One of my grandmother's many feral kitties. I think we will make this little guy the poster child for September. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">So it begins. In there too, we meet with the schools to write education plans for both little men so that their learning experiences are stellar and that their teachers "get them". Love those meetings. Especially the ones where un-named admin are all "There, there hysterical mother." So much fun. Sometimes the meetings make me laugh and sometimes they leave me feeling a little stabby.<br /><br />We love this ride, but it is a wild one- we don't usually get to come up for air until January and given the rain we have here September to January, I suppose that isn't a bad thing. The house gets neglected and sometimes I run in during the chaos, look in a room for something, get scared that the mess is multiplying while we sleep and slowly close the door to pretend that isn't happening.<br /><br />Hang on tight. Cue the circus music and the dancing monkeys, it's gonna be a great <strike>adventure</strike> experience*.<br /></span></div>
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*<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 78%;">The word adventure changed to reflect Little G's current hatred for the word, which sends him into a spiralling pit of horror and torture.</span></div>
</div>caygraymommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17999243221977224432noreply@blogger.com0