tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3584377143836901232024-03-05T15:32:50.617-05:00The Domestic Un-goddess...or, the story of why I'd rather talk to you than clean my house.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.comBlogger207125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-81338647410090829412011-01-11T22:50:00.003-05:002011-01-11T22:57:07.928-05:00That little punk!Johanna's latest trick is talking. She's been babbling for quite some time, starting with the typical "dadadadada" thing that makes all daddies feel pretty awesome. She started being intentional about associating it with Jon about a month ago, I guess. She does the sign for "father", too, so I know it's an actual word. She knows the signs for "dog", "fish", "bye-bye" and "nurse". She says dog (gog), Dad (usually in a shriek: "DAD!"), Katie (Kay-kay), Bubba (which is what we refer to Micah as) and occasionally Grandad thrown in for fun. But I cannot get that little punk to say "Mama" for love or money. She'll look intently at my mouth while I say it, and then I usally get, "DAD!" or sometimes "Blablabla"...do you think she's trying to tell me something?<br />So in other news, I'm a big failure as a blogger. Mostly because anything I want to say can be said in 140 words or less on Facebook. But we've been keeping on keeping on here. We started our new year of school at the end of August, have had some fun field trips, enjoyed our holidays. We've seen a little bit of snow here in NC in December and I'm sure the kids hope to see some more soon. I've been working a little bit but business has been very slow...the restaurant economy, in any case, has not rebounded, no matter what they're saying on the news.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-7952338843983036842010-04-25T20:55:00.002-04:002010-04-25T20:58:51.657-04:00My smiley babyJohanna is doing so well; starting to sleep a little more at night and starting to fuss a little less. :)<br />Her smile is so cute, and she's starting to coo, which is adorable. Right now her big(gest) sister is holding her so I can do dishes and check e-mail and whatnot. Here's her pretty smile:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_6vzyVtoraEoWIZGUpyCNN7pRitUaR1aNZk_Y8O4Ez6PRrbD4B93pTk9Kub369F9f2BvDycMVYDW7WW8fY1ZjipWXBbF0CjheeVNnYOtGZJjEppfYjybGzGaBqBmvG2MP4XwkaWE18ju/s1600/April+2010+152.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_6vzyVtoraEoWIZGUpyCNN7pRitUaR1aNZk_Y8O4Ez6PRrbD4B93pTk9Kub369F9f2BvDycMVYDW7WW8fY1ZjipWXBbF0CjheeVNnYOtGZJjEppfYjybGzGaBqBmvG2MP4XwkaWE18ju/s400/April+2010+152.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464244156796366498" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDrEG6ZUz5sfisxSkXYLxRnaHF8HXJKRwuQwaKMM7qpt2pGVmGtbXztsbOG8i7SfOKmz_saytnJAxjjqO2SGUYov8VbsCpKebBw5OYeoV_AhwsU7FB0su1XHJG15zybXNKIjo27bz50-7/s1600/April+2010+154.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDrEG6ZUz5sfisxSkXYLxRnaHF8HXJKRwuQwaKMM7qpt2pGVmGtbXztsbOG8i7SfOKmz_saytnJAxjjqO2SGUYov8VbsCpKebBw5OYeoV_AhwsU7FB0su1XHJG15zybXNKIjo27bz50-7/s400/April+2010+154.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464244149630120098" border="0" /></a>:Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-347315881781340992010-03-30T00:49:00.003-04:002010-03-30T08:53:37.038-04:00"If You Want Me To"...and other thoughts on worship<span style="font-size:100%;">As most all of you know, I spent the last 9 days in the ICU dealing with a weird strain of pneumonia, compounded (or possibly caused) by a uterine infection. I'm reeling, physically and emotionally from the whole experience. Leaving my newborn baby to get flown in a helicopter to the next state was definitely among the top-two suckiest experiences of my life. The first three days, they were just trying to figure it out. I was attended to by no less than 15 doctors (from four different departments), and a veritable army of nurses and aides. It was hard during the day, but the coughing got so much worse at night. I was on oxygen, but there was literally nothing they could do to stop the coughs (until they finally cleared up the infection). At night, when I was alone, and couldn't hold onto a breath, was running a 103 fever, and trying REALLY hard not to cry because it made the coughing so much worse, I was scared. Really scared.<br />The night before they ended up intubating me I remembered that Jon had said Gwenn left her iPod-iTouch-iWhatever-it-is for us to listen to. I had a really hard time navigating that little thing, for some reason. I couldn't get it to just "PLAY" and then "GO ON TO THE NEXT SONG"...it would keep repeating one song. So in the middle of the night, since I couldn't sleep anyway, I was scrolling through the different artists, and God just broke right through my misery and taught me about worshipping. For real. I was so breathless, I couldn't talk. So obviously, I REALLY couldn't sing. And, since you, dear friends, know me so well, you know those are pretty much my top two favorite activities. :) But as song after song just popped out of the list, all I could do as gasp along with the words that I truly felt that God was giving just to me. First came the older song (from the mid-90s) "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJisKhPrI9Y&feature=related">God is In Control"</a> by Twila Paris. I knew the song well, but hadn't heard it in years. The title was something that my sweet husband kept saying to me all week. One of the lyrics says, "This is no time for fear; this is a time for faith and determination". Next song I drift to is "<a href="http://popup.lala.com/popup/576742249014020311">Abba</a>" by Rebecca St. James (again, hadn't heard it in years). The lyric there promised<br />"I'm feeling like the eagle that rises<br />Flies above the earth and its troubles<br />Oh yes he knows that there are valleys below<br />But under his wings there's a stronger power"<br />A new (to me) song by Chris Tomlin "<a href="http://popup.lala.com/popup/576742236116769835">Jesus Messiah</a>" resonated (about three times in a row!) through my spirit. I was starting to breathe a little easier. Then came the song "<a href="http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/Jesus-You%27re-Beautiful-lyrics-Sara-Groves/F683C207FB57106148256DE9000DF265">Jesus, You're Beautiful</a>" by Sara Groves. I remembered signing this song with my dear Selah sisters a few years ago. When I didn't have the air to gasp to sing anymore, I was signing the words in the dark.<br />"<a href="http://popup.lala.com/popup/504684646423871306">Glorious"</a> by Martha Munizzi (from the move "The Gospel"). I remembered my Gwennie putting that song on my ipod playlist and telling me it was a great kick-butt running song.<br />Just before I finally fell asleep that night, I shut off the music and was just laying there thinking about what God can and will teach me under difficult circumstances. And then He reminded me of a song I had found "for" my friend Candy a few years ago, on the anniversary of her baby son's death. I hadn't heard this song before, and I honestly don't think I've heard it since. But I learned it and recorded it and gave it to her and Jim with some other music I thought they'd find meaningful. It spoke so straight to my heart (again).<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtNzOpKvPfw">"If You Want Me To"</a><br /><br />The pathway is broken<br />And The signs are unclear<br />And I don't know the reason why You brought me here<br />But just because You love me the way that You do<br />I'm gonna walk through the valley<br />If You want me to<br /><br />Chorus:<br />Cause I'm not who I was<br />When I took my first step<br />And I'm clinging to the promise You're not through with me yet<br />so if all of these trials bring me closer to you<br />Then I will walk through the fire<br />If You want me to<br /><br />It may not be the way I would have chosen<br />When you lead me through a world that's not my home<br />But You never said it would be easy<br />You only said I'd never go alone<br /><br /><br />So When the whole world turns against me<br />And I'm all by myself<br />And I can't hear You answer my cries for help<br />I'll remember the suffering Your love put You through<br />And I will go through the valley If You want me to<br /><br /><br />So where am I going with all this? Unsurprisingly, I'm not sure. :) I'm still processing. But I have learned two truths through all this. One: my husband loves me so much. His care for me when I needed him is something I will spend the rest of my life being thankful for. If that's ALL I learned through this, I truly think it would be worth it. But second, and bigger, my God made my every cell, and he made that man for me :) My God loves me with an everlasting love that is big, and strong, and powerful, even when I am small, and weak, and powerless. </span>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-42906180193834886832010-03-09T15:20:00.001-05:002010-03-09T15:22:22.542-05:00Less than 72 hours to go...<span style="font-family: georgia;">...and the challenge today is "do I have enough energy to shower today? Or shall I skip it until tomorrow? And, if I'm in there anyway, should I try to shave my legs? Is this an exercise (*snort* as if I exercise) in futility?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">The answers to come. I'm thinking they might be, in order: yes, no, maybe, probably.</span>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-12257000339560646252010-03-03T10:09:00.004-05:002010-03-03T10:11:17.448-05:00How to pick things up off the floor, 9-months-pregnant version<span>To quote Emily Saliers (Indigo Girls): "You have to laugh at yourself, or you'd cry your eyes out."</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmLDZuEEsb7HE-T-CJB_CiHMvwzpwVjhP9QKOZRRm9bRCDsT0L1-DRSTp8k8dR4FtAgKOXK8Z0ADvCMVoqxdu6nZSWr7RFfTs-0RwYNfGCQIIdfhOonPDT_qVQn2sTqbdoivf8YhUsphf/s1600-h/Big+Sumo+wrestler.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 316px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmLDZuEEsb7HE-T-CJB_CiHMvwzpwVjhP9QKOZRRm9bRCDsT0L1-DRSTp8k8dR4FtAgKOXK8Z0ADvCMVoqxdu6nZSWr7RFfTs-0RwYNfGCQIIdfhOonPDT_qVQn2sTqbdoivf8YhUsphf/s400/Big+Sumo+wrestler.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444424983529313874" border="0" /></a>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-55616574608235941052010-02-26T11:10:00.001-05:002010-02-26T11:12:47.264-05:00Really neat article about my Grandpa JoeGrandpa Joe was my mom's father. He died a few years ago, and as he lived in Texas for my whole life, I didn't know him as well as I knew her step-dad or my dad's dad. He did, however, have a very interesting life and career. I read this article right around the time he passed away, and my mom re-posted it on Facebook last night in response to a picture an old friend had posted. Anyway, maybe it's only interesting to me, but here it is!<br /><a href="http://www.localnewsonly.com/01newlno/clvnews/1114tozzi03.htm">Article about Pop</a>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-4227226759777163062010-02-17T09:28:00.000-05:002010-02-17T09:29:00.548-05:00Twenty-three days......until we meet this baby! <br />That is all.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-26128315084184465422010-02-14T21:54:00.004-05:002010-02-14T22:01:11.035-05:00My super-creative kidThis is a book (OK, a pamphlet) that Katie wrote about "How to make good Valentines". This was not a school assignment, just something she thought needed writing!<br />Enjoy. I did. :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_TI-auSydHbB9kEg9aoGoNRAiVy9GzIyeoaPFV98xj44V4g_mWWwZ_j00iqj4r_caUmxb7ASFHFTamUC91zNpqDLc_uZHWPVmfZXueLKcy2Tl5NI79f0dMRhKktNP9XOUtwMtaJeYTa1/s1600-h/February+2010.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_TI-auSydHbB9kEg9aoGoNRAiVy9GzIyeoaPFV98xj44V4g_mWWwZ_j00iqj4r_caUmxb7ASFHFTamUC91zNpqDLc_uZHWPVmfZXueLKcy2Tl5NI79f0dMRhKktNP9XOUtwMtaJeYTa1/s400/February+2010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438298750185261618" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqHcnrcjAIbE9dTDIhE-dtJbRT4Bd_dFcBAfhwL0aVd0nqbIq6eAgkfxx7IaggqpCHQ0US8fIJXr2pBATktVdHtf572uiOMaqZ1R29C_UArhWqG_x1AUMLwjA9BN92scyaMReGc2XyAt04/s1600-h/February+2010+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 394px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqHcnrcjAIbE9dTDIhE-dtJbRT4Bd_dFcBAfhwL0aVd0nqbIq6eAgkfxx7IaggqpCHQ0US8fIJXr2pBATktVdHtf572uiOMaqZ1R29C_UArhWqG_x1AUMLwjA9BN92scyaMReGc2XyAt04/s400/February+2010+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438299443605037634" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-t9s091_LPdsd7TFhS0DTEHQPUy-b3QU3lTkY0hvyDcqbPOUY0bJH2Z8mGfcRlQXGxuHx6VTZ67orOM9Vd_DOiqgf1liR4gC2GzRA2eX6OVIjl67SovGhgM5-oXpWGGHx1EZmhvAc4bEq/s1600-h/February+2010+006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 357px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-t9s091_LPdsd7TFhS0DTEHQPUy-b3QU3lTkY0hvyDcqbPOUY0bJH2Z8mGfcRlQXGxuHx6VTZ67orOM9Vd_DOiqgf1liR4gC2GzRA2eX6OVIjl67SovGhgM5-oXpWGGHx1EZmhvAc4bEq/s400/February+2010+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438299443358102290" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs1ubXHP02bJlinzqqnxqbbkHI_IbxItQCiqZRE-CszcF-HIRHXplUYgo4uzT0HByXyT6D76wInogfk1ewD-a0eU-Jmi4RJrZv-LIz0gP7nmLuzAswYY0pR6u_r4fXGFu_OuQoHMm64WqP/s1600-h/February+2010+007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 384px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs1ubXHP02bJlinzqqnxqbbkHI_IbxItQCiqZRE-CszcF-HIRHXplUYgo4uzT0HByXyT6D76wInogfk1ewD-a0eU-Jmi4RJrZv-LIz0gP7nmLuzAswYY0pR6u_r4fXGFu_OuQoHMm64WqP/s400/February+2010+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438299453058205346" border="0" /></a>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-71220717245000868272010-02-13T19:55:00.003-05:002010-02-13T20:01:21.787-05:00Why my nephew Nico is my favoriteWell, not favorite. But seriously, I love this little guy. <br />1. He always, ALWAYS wants to touch my belly. He loves feeling the baby move around, and is genuinely interested in what is going on in there. I know that's not that unusual for a five-year-old, so here are a few more reasons...<br />2. Yesterday, he told me he had to go to the bathroom. This was right after lunch, and I was cleaning up, so I confess I forgot about him for about 10-15 minutes. Then I thought, "Crap, I wonder if he's sitting there waiting for me to help him wipe?" Nope. He had used the last of the toilet paper and was attempting to put a fresh roll on the holder. Seriously. I'm not convinced that my 36-year-old husband knows how this works. <br />3. Last night, I was supervising teeth-brushing of all six kids. I had bought them a blue-tinted mouthwash called "Inspector Hector Plaque Detector" (a name which never fails to amuse my children). It's a pre-brushing rinse that supposedly sticks to problem spots, and then you brush until the blue is gone. This, by the way, is a messy endeavor. I did not allow Josiah to partake in it (and he didn't seem too miffed by this. I think he was a little afraid of the blue froth coming out of his siblings' and cousins' mouths), but the rest of them were spitting and drooling blue foam all over my bathroom, nearly all of it not in the sink. While they were brushing, I took a hand towel and wiped off the counters. Nico was the last to spit out his toothpaste and rinse. He then proceeded, unprompted, to cup water in his hands and rinse all the nasty toothpaste off the inside of the sink. <br />WHAT FIVE-YEAR-OLD DOES THIS!? Gwenn and Nick, either you or Nahomie are doing something right with this kid.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-51812099130855501752010-02-12T09:47:00.003-05:002010-02-12T09:53:19.099-05:00Another example of why I love YouTubeLiteral videos. This is when happens when someone's got WAAAYYY too much time on their hands. They use the tune of a real song, watch the video, and make up words to go along with what's ACTUALLY happening in the video. Which, if you think of it, makes a lot of sense, because a lot of music videos seem to have NOTHING in common with the song that's being sung. Anyway, there are several examples of this type of video (worth looking up: Meatloaf's "I Would Do Anything for Love (but I Won't Do That)"), but this one is my absolute favorite:<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj-x9ygQEGA">Bonnie Tyler "Total Eclipse of the Heart"</a>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-75976194636795902852010-02-10T19:34:00.001-05:002010-02-10T19:35:55.876-05:00Great article about what Gwenn is doing in Haiti<a href="http://www.oprah.com/world/Filling-in-the-Gaps-on-the-Ground-in-Haiti-Barton-Brooks/1">http://www.oprah.com/world/Filling-in-the-Gaps-on-the-Ground-in-Haiti-Barton-Brooks/1</a><br /><br />So proud of my family! They are truly putting feet to the Gospel.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-78145404300774044142010-02-08T10:20:00.002-05:002010-02-08T10:26:17.485-05:00My awesome friendsMy dear friends Candy and DeAnn threw me just a super baby shower on Saturday. It was girly and pink and awesome. Amanda graciously opened her beautiful home for us and Stephanie put together some really fun games. Just wanted to say thank you to all my great sister-friends who take such good care of us! I can't wait to share pictures of baby Johanna in some of her finery (I just love pink!)<br />Also, Shelley constructed seriously the cutest cake I've ever seen. If anyone local needs a special-occasion cake, please contact me for her number; she's just starting out in "the business" and does awesome work!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuM-SOq49SWCxGJR0T7XT2ZQyg5R57BrzCpaVycPHCUfFdNNN_WrH2B7rkzaI_rUoKguIfpj7xeHGPfWDuEChmxVhA6OIUX_3vLOIofw-9J7B5Ti5EHyJ7YA_SaEXHe8gc3NMRH6OcSPc/s1600-h/Snow+and+Shower+108.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuM-SOq49SWCxGJR0T7XT2ZQyg5R57BrzCpaVycPHCUfFdNNN_WrH2B7rkzaI_rUoKguIfpj7xeHGPfWDuEChmxVhA6OIUX_3vLOIofw-9J7B5Ti5EHyJ7YA_SaEXHe8gc3NMRH6OcSPc/s400/Snow+and+Shower+108.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435894079218596178" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozkJyQdiAQlgIuTyzNardFQ0hjwAjYMuU0G4gzOjn6INyNRvsICBvVOrJR0F-z5uEGCyKSUwW7bN7hZ3Jzd0IbYUwU_KQLw7D3YCIi4-U_IzuwOJF8ZYFUdaln3bai4YVD0AbZXi_P7s_/s1600-h/Snow+and+Shower+109.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozkJyQdiAQlgIuTyzNardFQ0hjwAjYMuU0G4gzOjn6INyNRvsICBvVOrJR0F-z5uEGCyKSUwW7bN7hZ3Jzd0IbYUwU_KQLw7D3YCIi4-U_IzuwOJF8ZYFUdaln3bai4YVD0AbZXi_P7s_/s400/Snow+and+Shower+109.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435894073166345970" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYznmKX685W3ywlHwi2dsP_KmhR5H5QAZJ98BQbV53qYbXVNFcHSwqVyz_HtnkR-T1D-5G9cpkLwgNoPUp4wO3n8ke3j6gwtJgVH8zD2hmce81O7efFcgHbinRQgpWGsqiHfsve5d9FEVI/s1600-h/Snow+and+Shower+059.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYznmKX685W3ywlHwi2dsP_KmhR5H5QAZJ98BQbV53qYbXVNFcHSwqVyz_HtnkR-T1D-5G9cpkLwgNoPUp4wO3n8ke3j6gwtJgVH8zD2hmce81O7efFcgHbinRQgpWGsqiHfsve5d9FEVI/s400/Snow+and+Shower+059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435894061988483842" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-YerXe1vwrButD9ZzjYxnRh46bVSOzGtnO2nABga0vO5CHNo-IrfnotvXTzDviOHAsh0SMEkKFd3O3fScWacRppnn72cYigGZ6RoyxQ3a0EQXSE_LEXomT-a05-jwLUKQR3fzPm6G1g-/s1600-h/Snow+and+Shower+056.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-YerXe1vwrButD9ZzjYxnRh46bVSOzGtnO2nABga0vO5CHNo-IrfnotvXTzDviOHAsh0SMEkKFd3O3fScWacRppnn72cYigGZ6RoyxQ3a0EQXSE_LEXomT-a05-jwLUKQR3fzPm6G1g-/s400/Snow+and+Shower+056.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435894056944242530" border="0" /></a>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-63178795733313373622010-02-08T08:35:00.002-05:002010-02-08T08:38:53.013-05:00Josiah is just a messHe is HILARIOUS. And hilariously naughty. For the most part, everything I've had to deal with with him has been "typical two-year-old" stuff. But when he hits, or pinches, or head-butts one of the other kids, and has to be disciplined, he GRINS through the whole thing. Grins like a clown even if you swat him or put him in the corner. <br />Today, though, was just hysterical. He said (as he does multiple times a day) "Hey Hey Auntie Gretchen"\ (that's what he calls me...not just Auntie Gretchen, but Hey Hey Auntie Gretchen), I hungry." I told him we would have some cereal just as soon as the big kids were finished with our chores. He said, "I pray now." So he's been wandering around the house, saying grace. It goes like this:<br />God is great, God is good.<br />Auntie Gretchen give me food.<br />Amen.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-39902320505096095192010-02-04T13:14:00.002-05:002010-02-04T13:16:31.133-05:00Well, I always knew I was oneA superstar, that is. At least, according to my son, I am. To me, the picture looks a little bit like the Wicked Witch of the West, but he asssures me that it is, indeed, a picture of me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3z2AV0Tu7uAeYYcU-j_GocltoA3FAJ9-DzHgHLN3g-2nodv8MNeRuJbYT8Yi-c-TzZROL7-GV1nrACUsdrI6gWe8z0GkabVWAMnt_2zRwbjqUNcj_hmobVX7OYkYg8BNZc7WCdfnmrvo/s1600-h/Picture.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 366px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3z2AV0Tu7uAeYYcU-j_GocltoA3FAJ9-DzHgHLN3g-2nodv8MNeRuJbYT8Yi-c-TzZROL7-GV1nrACUsdrI6gWe8z0GkabVWAMnt_2zRwbjqUNcj_hmobVX7OYkYg8BNZc7WCdfnmrvo/s400/Picture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434453763860381746" border="0" /></a>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-56060562480833422702010-02-03T08:11:00.001-05:002010-02-03T13:39:00.586-05:00A bad news/good news postBad news: I woke up this morning to TWO wet beds in my household.<br />Good news: Neither one was mine. Given the stage of pregnancy I'm in and baby Johanna's penchant for JUMPING on my bladder, this is no small victory. :)Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-89801691581925586562010-01-29T09:54:00.002-05:002010-01-29T09:59:03.403-05:00My drama queen child...part one million fiveDisclaimer: (just in case you're a bit stand-offish about, um, body parts) My kids know all the correct terms for their anatomy, including the boy and girl parts. I've never seen a need or a compelling reason to call them "down there" or "peepee" or any other cutesy term. Disclaimer over.<div><br /></div><div>Abbie has been feeling ill for two days now. The night before last, she was running a fever and complaining of a sore throat and a headache. I also had a sore throat and headache, and Katie started feeling badly yesterday. All the kids went to my mom's house for naptime/playtime yesterday, and when I arrived to pick them up, my mom was laughing and said, "Abbie has the strangest malady I've ever heard of." I said, "Oh, really? She's good for that." She said, "No, I've never heard of this one. She was complaining that her throat hurt, and then she said, 'Nanny, my throat hurts so bad it hurts all the way to my vagina!'"</div><div>Yeah. That's my kid. Good grief.</div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-91581954164759743722010-01-16T10:27:00.003-05:002010-01-16T10:36:32.925-05:00Breaking my blog silence for a kid funnyI swear it's not on purpose that I don't blog. I just feel like I don't have that much interesting to say. Also, since just before New Year's, I haven't had my own computer (our desktop crashed and is HOPEFULLY being repaired, so I just have a pretty slow laptop - that I am very thankful for!)...I can't upload pictures or anything else. Also, the five people that read this blog are on my Facebook or I speak to on the phone daily. :)<br />Anyway, yesterday I was speaking to my sister Melody on the phone, and her 2-year-old daughter Evie was being kind of whiney in the background. I knew it was almost time for her nap, and I asked to speak to her. At first she said she didn't want to talk to me, but then she decided to. As Melody handed her the phone, she (Melody) switched it to speakerphone. Here's the general gist of the conversation:<br />Me: Evie, are you being a crankypants today?<br />Evie: NO!<br />Me: Are you sure? You sound a little grumpy today. Do you feel grumpy?<br />Evie: Yeah. Grumpy.<br />Me: I feel a little grumpy today, too. Do you need a nap?<br />Evie: Yeah.<br />Me: How about we make a deal? Do you know what a deal is?<br />Evie: Yes.<br />Me: OK. So you go "check your eyelids for leaks" (that's what my dad says), and I'll go take a nap too, OK?<br />Evie: OKAY!<br />She hands the phone back to her mom and says excitedly, "Ma! Auntie Gretchen says when I wake up my cousins will be here!"Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-54140648073515409352009-11-23T17:23:00.007-05:002009-11-23T17:42:39.284-05:00Scones...a pregnancy craving adventure in cookingDoes that even make any sense? Well, cravings rarely do. I haven't had too many this time around, and they're usually short-lived. Which is sometimes good and sometimes bad. Like, if I crave Doritos, I'm like an ADD kid: "OOOH, I need some Doritos! I need some really BAD! Jon, please go to Red Apple and get me some Dorit....ooh, shiny! I could make a craft out of that!...." etc., etc. That would be a GOOD short-lived craving. A BAD short-lived craving would be the time that I ordered $25 worth of Chinese food (including a tip) for delivery, and by the time it got here less than an hour later I TOTALLY didn't want it. Blech. Gross. Get it away from me. (And for those of you Chinese-food conisseurs in Manteo - Neil, namely - it was from Top China, which is inferior to China King in so many ways.)<br />Anyway, the longest-lasting craving so far (at nearly a week) was for cranberry-lemon scones. Seriously? Who even craves this stuff? Where does my mind come up with it? But I had to have them, and after having the cranberries and the lemons in my fridge for about 4 days, I finally made them this morning. I figured this crap ought to be documented, so here ya go:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-RhwvWJHa7HAQ8Vp42V4cW7R6mKvyvdpBkm9FqFvzSdHkpLOAEQlQhocZR8w1nfbzdIKWdkG3ETRBAbEl6ra0m27WJhimSOAmrUzaF0N4UMWKS1nRD3Ww4BkY6ZNZjum8drjZmsk8NBo/s1600/000_0195.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-RhwvWJHa7HAQ8Vp42V4cW7R6mKvyvdpBkm9FqFvzSdHkpLOAEQlQhocZR8w1nfbzdIKWdkG3ETRBAbEl6ra0m27WJhimSOAmrUzaF0N4UMWKS1nRD3Ww4BkY6ZNZjum8drjZmsk8NBo/s400/000_0195.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407431017259155554" border="0" /></a> Must...have....coffee.....to start.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhReP5iRoX-yoLuMgWGOFXMXHN4jNQjP2xG-_jO7rVO5a0Ol1xkVTCtAyDm0hheH9epgv6pxdyRUeI35ULqGRFAWjIMAJhYwrFktkjkn3ynXU4gqBhU5k73v05AKm2TF1Wzq5iAs42lhOLo/s1600/000_0196.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhReP5iRoX-yoLuMgWGOFXMXHN4jNQjP2xG-_jO7rVO5a0Ol1xkVTCtAyDm0hheH9epgv6pxdyRUeI35ULqGRFAWjIMAJhYwrFktkjkn3ynXU4gqBhU5k73v05AKm2TF1Wzq5iAs42lhOLo/s400/000_0196.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407431012078988178" border="0" /></a> Does that look like "coarse crumbs" to you? Works for me.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKKuHBxxjdAEOfL2S71lxA4QE-DNJAEnSPbzgHFbHPU5DZbGxNvDYUYJSWPPI8q7wtavJB19_uNQek1Rqw91u9k9JvP449nlIpoToInoV5p2alyf0woYvNGvNDae_Gz8tqXkXl6wZ4u0d/s1600/000_0197.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKKuHBxxjdAEOfL2S71lxA4QE-DNJAEnSPbzgHFbHPU5DZbGxNvDYUYJSWPPI8q7wtavJB19_uNQek1Rqw91u9k9JvP449nlIpoToInoV5p2alyf0woYvNGvNDae_Gz8tqXkXl6wZ4u0d/s400/000_0197.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407431004238813298" border="0" /></a> No buttermilk? (Who ever does?) My mama taught me<br /> to sour milk with a tablespoon or so of vinegar or lemon juice before<br /> you start. Works like a charm.)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjaxpvk6-5Q0rzj7faiUx4HeZ8J1cNKTRWw4U1SJIw6CRz-7WoGpZKUqjxOuO44m_UPR4Io3DyylChuTCj7IyVGrp4WQWdCa3_mU73gmy9oD2bz7p5-G8tWT7FRpxyB1qNaL0_mr_lzAVY/s1600/000_0198.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjaxpvk6-5Q0rzj7faiUx4HeZ8J1cNKTRWw4U1SJIw6CRz-7WoGpZKUqjxOuO44m_UPR4Io3DyylChuTCj7IyVGrp4WQWdCa3_mU73gmy9oD2bz7p5-G8tWT7FRpxyB1qNaL0_mr_lzAVY/s400/000_0198.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407430689877566162" border="0" /></a><br /> I love Pampered Chef. This tool (which was cheap, as far as<br /> PC stuff goes) is a lemon zester/scorer.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7k_E9wh-o4ZJ3Cmimd1n3_qz5LUl6uJz-xtR_D_TYphziSWrBnxpTkFQGrxSw9DF_VGzD1pvpHboFaPWP9ohPylYe0bBP9Lay4mnU6N2JI4Y0VEcWY6lY_f7nGo2MKlecMIxM3XomyDz9/s1600/000_0199.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7k_E9wh-o4ZJ3Cmimd1n3_qz5LUl6uJz-xtR_D_TYphziSWrBnxpTkFQGrxSw9DF_VGzD1pvpHboFaPWP9ohPylYe0bBP9Lay4mnU6N2JI4Y0VEcWY6lY_f7nGo2MKlecMIxM3XomyDz9/s400/000_0199.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407430681470020210" border="0" /></a> Another Pampered Chef favorite; this one gets<br /> nearly daily use: my food chopper makes short work<br /> of the fresh cranberries.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRB_P7BwgKfTqe6jO_QveOj3VagrQFfsgdxNWmiJXtCLP4PJ9hIW_MS5pNcbINMhipZ2B6MZvX9lYhwXuzpSXR9IFMG9EfxZsxFhAZjdZaX4W2knS6a2abkhquFCkKwGcoUCROVsCNJXf/s1600/000_0200.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRB_P7BwgKfTqe6jO_QveOj3VagrQFfsgdxNWmiJXtCLP4PJ9hIW_MS5pNcbINMhipZ2B6MZvX9lYhwXuzpSXR9IFMG9EfxZsxFhAZjdZaX4W2knS6a2abkhquFCkKwGcoUCROVsCNJXf/s400/000_0200.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407430680599036402" border="0" /></a> Leftover cranberries; must find a use for<br /> them! The garlic salt has nothing to do with this<br /> recipe, don't worry! :) It just lives on my counter<br /> because it, too, sees nearly daily use.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-St3Yhah4sSQgyKrbzM3S0lw_k4MH9S5J_LGxBlw7Xr4z_vqE3ZS2s6jqmW89lC4wWxSnQ-85gVz806Q-KVZzhqd4Bg4bvGjn1o2CTHPTKWVvcaCqXpVfXmdPW-2AnmCnSKdJwyPWsn3j/s1600/000_0201.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-St3Yhah4sSQgyKrbzM3S0lw_k4MH9S5J_LGxBlw7Xr4z_vqE3ZS2s6jqmW89lC4wWxSnQ-85gVz806Q-KVZzhqd4Bg4bvGjn1o2CTHPTKWVvcaCqXpVfXmdPW-2AnmCnSKdJwyPWsn3j/s400/000_0201.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407430674638283154" border="0" /></a> Add the good stuff.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiER_Z2gQGAJsgb6Aa3P4YOBAWzNnqodB_ycz97UV4GwFqKk6oQhSH400EcwNI1yw5YU6EtMMAWPkKFY0eiNpYhqSuLW7-9-zZqV58Aan3CkhPo41sglI_Wtr_vU8rKjV-5yoXCtYqkJMa4/s1600/000_0203.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiER_Z2gQGAJsgb6Aa3P4YOBAWzNnqodB_ycz97UV4GwFqKk6oQhSH400EcwNI1yw5YU6EtMMAWPkKFY0eiNpYhqSuLW7-9-zZqV58Aan3CkhPo41sglI_Wtr_vU8rKjV-5yoXCtYqkJMa4/s400/000_0203.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407431198240857266" border="0" /></a> First taste of fresh cranberries :)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEjfdrLfxHo7SHHqyn7jL_3-OObVi7FN6T8dHN4aHAmZXRsuGoybcIXRzmYnAgE9yEnkeo9tyEfW68n4kJbo5YMbSjjKxfrZ9hJAI0DSSvxCCU0oFGSCQt6jfG0GKKWbJZ-627SNWq6GL/s1600/000_0204.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEjfdrLfxHo7SHHqyn7jL_3-OObVi7FN6T8dHN4aHAmZXRsuGoybcIXRzmYnAgE9yEnkeo9tyEfW68n4kJbo5YMbSjjKxfrZ9hJAI0DSSvxCCU0oFGSCQt6jfG0GKKWbJZ-627SNWq6GL/s400/000_0204.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407430121018166322" border="0" /></a> Very sticky.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3s0WGAEQeyFPkl2IMM3aSHv1oZVb7oe1xm9UbZtStTVtSeSh9HZUFSCrL8TCIS3iCpGO3DazqqOcQ7eFglJrBF_xpf9uQzSv9QsFO-bdmeex43kzmjlZvmbGnkdBvnpVEZH6l7FK9XJr/s1600/000_0205.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3s0WGAEQeyFPkl2IMM3aSHv1oZVb7oe1xm9UbZtStTVtSeSh9HZUFSCrL8TCIS3iCpGO3DazqqOcQ7eFglJrBF_xpf9uQzSv9QsFO-bdmeex43kzmjlZvmbGnkdBvnpVEZH6l7FK9XJr/s400/000_0205.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407430116257007554" border="0" /></a> And messy.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGe23VIy5q0Z8IArIg4ZPe8Xlup1uwkscWS6F5DJXC93O6nLQq8sw6w9g1FMkEwuG1klG8njphI57b6V_bwVtEOwha2Bc3oibemH58Gda88JUW_OnK0-kbAoHgMhyovxmcUlrInTjkp1t/s1600/000_0206.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGe23VIy5q0Z8IArIg4ZPe8Xlup1uwkscWS6F5DJXC93O6nLQq8sw6w9g1FMkEwuG1klG8njphI57b6V_bwVtEOwha2Bc3oibemH58Gda88JUW_OnK0-kbAoHgMhyovxmcUlrInTjkp1t/s400/000_0206.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407430110369202834" border="0" /></a> Ready to go in the oven.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2_mVSvX1r3zSJUxpceCrppWA0f_D4VwvIK9M24-kzQ5x9RABoD9eRV88zn7tYSdRFY3JCsqG0se1H_7FkPAT_R2njvKzi8T_RJH0WHJJ_UNpO5oL5nkR80nYYf05bHlk0zHwnEA_GZ7k/s1600/000_0207.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2_mVSvX1r3zSJUxpceCrppWA0f_D4VwvIK9M24-kzQ5x9RABoD9eRV88zn7tYSdRFY3JCsqG0se1H_7FkPAT_R2njvKzi8T_RJH0WHJJ_UNpO5oL5nkR80nYYf05bHlk0zHwnEA_GZ7k/s400/000_0207.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407430104644678210" border="0" /></a> Yes, oven is filthy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaYFqjjs4zQqfF4nWLb1LCnKZUFuTEvw1zKpMIyWIQzLqKDK55_Bai6oO2LKwuUduP0neOA2VrmPmqbAWVoMP17Aeu3kJagA-j3lwbbB0UChVNWRDhrKcdjEvjcc8xT8LZR9AMGkasChT/s1600/000_0208.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaYFqjjs4zQqfF4nWLb1LCnKZUFuTEvw1zKpMIyWIQzLqKDK55_Bai6oO2LKwuUduP0neOA2VrmPmqbAWVoMP17Aeu3kJagA-j3lwbbB0UChVNWRDhrKcdjEvjcc8xT8LZR9AMGkasChT/s400/000_0208.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407430097240411218" border="0" /></a> Finished product! Yum. Craving satisfied.<br /> Even my picky-butt son liked them.<br /><br />The End.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-76975646728670521492009-11-17T07:50:00.003-05:002009-11-17T08:00:26.935-05:00A healthy baby...good report!After we had our ultrasound last month, my doctor sent me for a fetal echocardiogram up in Norfolk. NOT because he thought there was a problem, but because, since I had my last baby, both of my sisters had babies born with congenital heart issues, one benign, one severe. So Dr. Dwyer, even though everything looked OK to him, sent me up to Eastern Virginia Medical School so they could double- and triple-check.<br />The process is exactly like every other ultrasound I've had (except a bit longer). The pictures looked the same. The technician was very friendly and kept commenting "What a pretty baby!" She was able to confirm that she is DEFINITELY a girl (yay!) and gave us an A+ for everything. No heart issues or other issues that she could see at all. At one point (and I so wish I had a<br />picture of this), she had her hand up to her head, and it looked like she was swooning like a drama queen. I think she'll take after her sisters, huh?<br />Here are some pictures:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTIZuZdcmlBRCeWTEifVpYkyXj7L8o8cEKLFH3jrtKew6DPsOTf_aS7bkmGr9dpFib35IBA1-ekVmXhbDmkvpDLpbRDuukkTVrxHRez1kY7onrnlqh_ru0n7ohZYsleGDToJhHTFtr6vj/s1600/November+2009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTIZuZdcmlBRCeWTEifVpYkyXj7L8o8cEKLFH3jrtKew6DPsOTf_aS7bkmGr9dpFib35IBA1-ekVmXhbDmkvpDLpbRDuukkTVrxHRez1kY7onrnlqh_ru0n7ohZYsleGDToJhHTFtr6vj/s400/November+2009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405055621301500082" border="0" /></a>Profile with her hand by her face. It kept looking like she was going for her thumb. :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlWn2lZ_VVyLQaRCmA3KYiNBNHfZKNkExCRmSqwBpKQi_sSu8ylP5XBM23-ua4ZzUlAXq9oatT1FQ4lySJRtqkG8MBf80_vJnW4dEmCBMnn72gwwZ274JCBSSMutO00BFl_2CKtORMTET/s1600/JLB+3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlWn2lZ_VVyLQaRCmA3KYiNBNHfZKNkExCRmSqwBpKQi_sSu8ylP5XBM23-ua4ZzUlAXq9oatT1FQ4lySJRtqkG8MBf80_vJnW4dEmCBMnn72gwwZ274JCBSSMutO00BFl_2CKtORMTET/s400/JLB+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405055624040466498" border="0" /></a>Another profile that shows that she has my nose, for sure.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71AcB-MGYK-rHUELm15bm7RLVsvT-mNVXKweNqU8M8fifpekRQyi5b4gzK187i4GW3QpzOLtkNIkEuDNYndNlO03Mc8_ZNXpFaFjJAHLZ4MaABPxnMH9-0g_uXkeibr65qrBbmCJxVGtM/s1600/November+2009+015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71AcB-MGYK-rHUELm15bm7RLVsvT-mNVXKweNqU8M8fifpekRQyi5b4gzK187i4GW3QpzOLtkNIkEuDNYndNlO03Mc8_ZNXpFaFjJAHLZ4MaABPxnMH9-0g_uXkeibr65qrBbmCJxVGtM/s400/November+2009+015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405055628438312002" border="0" /></a><br /> Girly parts :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGqfdR0mnPON1nmLSPvWZo6muWIX_pr0oKXrrFwiF6VdfQFBZ4D-qJz0Hur3lQdUm6gxr-4OL0UhHMTy1VskqsYtc4yXtshBSVjRVfrFTCoPGNbUzPFKp-g8v223UHtyTAZw70mrZbBns/s1600/JLB+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGqfdR0mnPON1nmLSPvWZo6muWIX_pr0oKXrrFwiF6VdfQFBZ4D-qJz0Hur3lQdUm6gxr-4OL0UhHMTy1VskqsYtc4yXtshBSVjRVfrFTCoPGNbUzPFKp-g8v223UHtyTAZw70mrZbBns/s400/JLB+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405055629809286018" border="0" /></a> I think she looks an awfully lot like Micah in this one.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OyIyr6vYZqAvVOKFVrvjOo4lsxkyB6n6POhcGN3K4gnKuI5NVGh00KvT-71VLUodlx0qMFrH1DUPzjPt-rKItdY6zBfEGQdvAe_GlNvQ9nlCO9PtM64zgUkH9MYJI0Ihz-T1IwNLiLjy/s1600/JLB1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OyIyr6vYZqAvVOKFVrvjOo4lsxkyB6n6POhcGN3K4gnKuI5NVGh00KvT-71VLUodlx0qMFrH1DUPzjPt-rKItdY6zBfEGQdvAe_GlNvQ9nlCO9PtM64zgUkH9MYJI0Ihz-T1IwNLiLjy/s400/JLB1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405055634900500082" border="0" /></a><br /> Jon says she looks like Micah AND me. Especially in this one because<br /> he says it looks like she is holding a book.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-11866465360246917742009-11-03T11:22:00.003-05:002009-11-03T11:27:00.584-05:00Something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read........this is how we approach Christmas in our family. Each kid gets four gifts that meet the above criteria. (I get some little stocking stuffers, too.) I don't want my kids to have a material explosion for Christmas. Usually, I have some pretty good ideas for what to get them. I get suggestions from them for the "something you want" category, of course. I try to accomodate (within reason, as long as it's age-appropriate and not hideously expensive) their requests, even if I think to myself (usually rightly so) "you'll NEVER play with/use that". Whatever. It's "something YOU want", not "something I WANT YOU TO HAVE". <br />I'm having trouble this year, though. Maybe it's the economy and the scarcity of funds that's making me so Grinchy. But really, when I look at these categories, only the "something you want" category even makes sense to me. Because there's really, really nothing they need. They truly, truly don't need any more clothing. We honestly, honestly, have too many books in this house. They're overrunning our place to keep them. We are expecting a baby in March with all the gack that goes along with that.<br />Anyone have any suggestions?Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-92190588134540900032009-11-02T20:40:00.001-05:002009-11-02T20:41:49.266-05:00Just in case you missed my Facebook status update.......another example of "good thing I have thick skin":<br />Abbie (to me): You look different.<br />Me: How do I look different?<br />Abbie: You look like an Oompa-Loompa. I don't like that headband.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-65007629887416655092009-10-27T11:05:00.001-04:002009-10-27T11:06:27.114-04:00It's a girl!Everything looks good; the doctor and technician both said "with 95% certainty" that its' a girl.<br />No good pictures, either profile or of "the goods", but all is well.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-14946132428352358282009-10-26T20:55:00.002-04:002009-10-26T21:02:43.371-04:00A plug for a favorite product, and a self-indulgent prayer requestMy absolute favorite place to buy "mama-time" things is <a href="http://www.shoptheyum.com">The Yum-Yum Shoppe</a>. Talitha is on a message board that I frequent, and her stuff is to die for. Several months ago, at the recommendation of a friend, I switched from using regular facial-cleaning products to using the <a href="http://www.theoilcleansingmethod.com/">Oil-Cleansing Method</a>. It seemed counter-intuitive at the time, because I often felt that I had oily skin. It turns out I was CAUSING my oily skin with commercial detergents trying to prevent my adult-onset acne. Good grief. Talitha makes an awesome oil blend that I've been loving for several months. I also use her facial serum for moisturizer. I've now been converted to a devotee of her Lip Butters (I got peppermint and juicy fruit), and they totally rock. <br />OK, commercial over, but you should seriously check out her website. <br /><br />And for the self-indulgent prayer request...we are praying for a SHOW-OFFY baby tomorrow for our ultrasound. This is the "big one", where the do the anatomy scan to check that the baby is developing as s/he should. That, of course, is the main thing; that we get a healthy baby report. But selfishly, we'd also like a "boy/girl" report. Please pray that our baby will show us the goods! We'll let you know sometime after 10 AM tomorrow. Probably with pictures, too, if I can get my scanner to work.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-39412692975249257522009-10-10T13:34:00.003-04:002009-10-10T13:44:52.494-04:00Happy birthday to my awesome Mommy!She's pretty much the bomb. I've been told (often, actually, and I'm not trying to brag on myself) that I'm some kind of "SuperWoman/SuperMom" thing. (To which I say...yeah, whatever.) The people I hear it from mostly are referring to my ability to seemingly just "roll with it"...that I don't get fazed by much.<br />Well, in case you're wondering...my mom is where I learned it. Among other things, like how to be a patient mother, a loving and forgiving and interested wife, a creative teacher.<br />My mediocre housekeeping skills, in case you're wondering....yeah, I got those on my own. Also my sarcastic tongue...not from my mom.<br />Happy birthday, Mama! I love you so much.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxMAgGGlY-gM1j04p2p1zgl8pICi7i0gdvS1a8IQvJqKQkwVNZLOCsmpUCRIzWrFF8gl1iIhIoYx6Kyg5ONNHnt2u1xSp7jmTHFFfyYk3bY91640YeXzj-r-FlbOtwhlRiaziXAnLEDOj/s1600-h/Denise+PG.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXxMAgGGlY-gM1j04p2p1zgl8pICi7i0gdvS1a8IQvJqKQkwVNZLOCsmpUCRIzWrFF8gl1iIhIoYx6Kyg5ONNHnt2u1xSp7jmTHFFfyYk3bY91640YeXzj-r-FlbOtwhlRiaziXAnLEDOj/s400/Denise+PG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391027882326150722" border="0" /></a><br />I know I've shared this one before, but that's baby ME in there!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWbGbiRwbQZd9WKRBMKukqBVI-MVnqQo0peT6r5x48BoW50TCyPXr_0uMbyrEhVtzZ39dcdyvIOmagrlDB0BtsUN6NmXsPmaO6HhNGkhxCxooNP72a52IU6qcEtwKHQKwGsc6kZdofxWJr/s1600-h/baby+Gretchen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 137px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWbGbiRwbQZd9WKRBMKukqBVI-MVnqQo0peT6r5x48BoW50TCyPXr_0uMbyrEhVtzZ39dcdyvIOmagrlDB0BtsUN6NmXsPmaO6HhNGkhxCxooNP72a52IU6qcEtwKHQKwGsc6kZdofxWJr/s400/baby+Gretchen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391027887402283650" border="0" /></a><br />My practically-teenaged parents with me. (No, they weren't really teenagers. Well, Mommy was but I think Daddy was 21.)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBUBoR6INbblNvhMsDksebny9-ndvE-yI3VyFZr_y_z5b2eB_M7FmRumTBVXnejU-2gyyu4GRrLiJCLmKKkQ9hYefNXcNiQOCtmp_dzjJJ6_VTSYYCIDTmO4SC6lzFqzq-qVBFPHNTOT8/s1600-h/Gretchen+sink+bath.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBUBoR6INbblNvhMsDksebny9-ndvE-yI3VyFZr_y_z5b2eB_M7FmRumTBVXnejU-2gyyu4GRrLiJCLmKKkQ9hYefNXcNiQOCtmp_dzjJJ6_VTSYYCIDTmO4SC6lzFqzq-qVBFPHNTOT8/s400/Gretchen+sink+bath.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391027892924383250" border="0" /></a><br />Bath in the sink at my Nana's house.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezegnRm3a-VakTkmJVLVYhnxwoUwLZluPojnEpjDW7njhvZH-0uIcKklnN6nKRaqZinh8vhSXLzib5fjiAPxEUhuaLWcVgXRxqlodYmemMfP0Ax7QcO4QfgFEzwWAmYXB4y-Oahsji2oM/s1600-h/060_60.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezegnRm3a-VakTkmJVLVYhnxwoUwLZluPojnEpjDW7njhvZH-0uIcKklnN6nKRaqZinh8vhSXLzib5fjiAPxEUhuaLWcVgXRxqlodYmemMfP0Ax7QcO4QfgFEzwWAmYXB4y-Oahsji2oM/s400/060_60.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391027901482963922" border="0" /></a>Mommy with Abbie, still in the hospital.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1hjGltl43gXwy6u4c5BKmOEAgJUpEzgAO3Ls5SxehkLIRLICk890VpsLVQK38gdIy5_Hos0AmAqFyj4vpCUSnm91nvd0BLKlN2kCoJxkPrHvJBkKfLKApJGk6HO_UvtrSWFCjvX7sWk6/s1600-h/l_bcbe6d2a25b2d75da5dcb7629b3096bd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1hjGltl43gXwy6u4c5BKmOEAgJUpEzgAO3Ls5SxehkLIRLICk890VpsLVQK38gdIy5_Hos0AmAqFyj4vpCUSnm91nvd0BLKlN2kCoJxkPrHvJBkKfLKApJGk6HO_UvtrSWFCjvX7sWk6/s400/l_bcbe6d2a25b2d75da5dcb7629b3096bd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391027906892104594" border="0" /></a>Mommy and I last year.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358437714383690123.post-29390196274970347232009-10-03T12:25:00.003-04:002009-10-03T12:27:09.172-04:00My "day in the life"A message board that I frequent does this a few times a year. We take pictures of our day, upload them, caption, and show each other what we do for an entire day. I've not taken part in one before, mostly because I forget, but I gave it a shot this time. Not terribly interesting, but here ya go, if you're interested:<br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/beautifulbeachmusic/GretchenSDITL#">http://picasaweb.google.com/beautifulbeachmusic/GretchenSDITL#</a><br /><br />I'd love to see one that you guys do! Send me a link if you end up trying it. It was kind of fun, actually.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06071058891307637101noreply@blogger.com3