tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31854273939874225212024-03-13T12:05:52.008-07:00My bona fide lifeLisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.comBlogger248125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-55740094201997325112021-05-05T23:59:00.011-07:002023-06-07T08:29:23.224-07:00Happy Birthday Baby Girl<p>Today is special for multiple reasons, but the biggest is that it’s the 23rd Anniversary of the first time I felt unconditional love. It’s the day my first baby was born and for the first time in my life I felt what pure love felt like. And it was amazing and wonderful and so scary!</p><p>Twenty three years later and now this beautiful creature is a sprite who exudes sunshine. From the beginning she was my co pilot, my reason for living, my source of strength when my life and marriage was tough. I would say today She still is. </p><p>We’ve grown up together. I still remember her sitting shot gun as infant in my single cab (no back seat) pick up truck smiling while I belted out “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun!” She came to my nanny job with me, out with friends, everywhere. My Ex’s schedule and lifestyle led to a lot of time with just her and I and I never minded. She was my other half. There is this picture of the two of us at a HS Football game and we’re both in headbands, overalls and white T-shirts. I’m proudly holding her with a big grin on my face. I was and always will be happy to be her momma. </p><p>As the years went on I could see her determination, her gumption, her big heart. Her forgiving heart. For despite her dad and I and all our decisions, our imperfections, our misguided choices, she still welcomes me with open arms. </p><p>Today on her birthday it’s important to me that she knows how proud I am, how grateful I am for her love and all of our memories. My heart was sad this year when February came and there were no more mom’s weekends. One big blessing in my relationship with her were the four mom’s weekends with her sorority while she was in college. I remember the first one that happened During her freshman year. I almost didn’t go because it’s kind of last minute and I was having trouble getting all my travel plans together. However to this day I am so happy that I was able to make it work. I remember sitting the first night at this table full of moms and daughters. Her and I have been through so much with my divorce and everything and living in different parts of the country. But here we were just like everybody else. I was just a mom visiting her daughter at school. I’ll never forget that feeling. It was one of my favorite mom moments. </p><p>We went on to have many amazing memories while she was in school and I was lucky to get her for most holidays and even a summer. There were times when she would look at me and I would see the same Smile as when she was a baby Monday realized that no matter how old she was she’ll always be my little girl.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-85222764765365080792018-03-21T21:07:00.001-07:002018-03-21T21:42:35.871-07:00The teenage years a matter of pride and prejudice I’ve been away from my blog for quite some time. In the fall of 2014 I decided to go back to school. In the spring of 2015 I completed one of my requirements to apply for respiratory therapy school. In May of 2015 I was accepted. In June 2016 I graduated and I have been working as a respiratory therapist at Seattle Children’s Hospital since July of 2016. This whole time was a struggle to juggle parenting along with school, Clinicals and work. I completed my bachelors in the winter of 2008 while having children and I thought that was hard. But I realize as I approach the eve of 20 years of being a mom, that parenting doesn’t get any easier, it’s just a different struggle. I think back to one point when my four older children were little, I had four children five and under. I had three in diapers at the same time. In order for my daughter to go to all day kindergarten I had to load four children twice a day into four car seats for an hour round-trip. I still remember practicing counting to 100 with Savannah on the way to school because she wanted to be the first one to do so in her class. Now she’s a sophomore studying business at Indiana University. However as I spent my mom’s weekend with her back in February, I realize when I look at her she still six months old in my mind. They are always your babies. <br />
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Now I have a seven year old and five teenagers between the ages of 13 and19. I will say this for the rest my life, that there’s nothing harder than being a parent. Every day you question your decisions, you wonder if your discipline is enough or too much, you try and hug more and scold less. You feel pride and prejudice almost every day. I mention prejudice because your children are like your cubs and you are biased by their actions and choices because of how much you love them. I have sworn over the years never to badmouth my children in public, ie this blog or Facebook. It’s been very important to me that they never look back and see that their mom wrote negatively of them. That’s not to say I haven’t gone through major struggles and continue to struggle every single day. You just won’t hear the details of those moments if it involves talking negatively about my child. Instead I’ve tried to praise them from time to time in order that on rough days if they feel like it, they can look back and remember no matter what they are facing or no matter who they feel is against them, they always know I have their back. They have my unconditional love from now until forever. I’m not trying to paint a perfect picture, and I’m not trying to deny my frustrations or the tears I have shed over the years. I’m just hoping that more than anything else I do for my children, I’m hoping to cheer for them and Today was a perfect example of that and inspired me to come back to my blog. Last year about this time Sage was diagnosed with a stress Fracture in her hip. She had to quit track and begin intensive physical therapy. I honestly don’t think either of us thought she would participate in high school sports again. In eighth grade she played football, then basketball, then soccer and then track. The doctor thought it was possible that it was just too much for her. However, I will state for the record that all of this was Sage’s choice. She is very determined and drives the bus on extracurricular activities and school. She puts enough pressure on herself that I try hard not to add to it. But somewhere along the line Sage decided she wasn’t done. She informed us earlier this winter that she was going to go to football workouts. She isn’t sure yet if she’ll play in the fall, but she wanted to continue her conditioning that she had done in physical therapy. Then during workouts she decided she would like to try and run track again. I was really nervous about her physical state and would often ask her how she was feeling. She assured me she was okay and put her heart behind her healing in order to get back on the track and Today I watched my daughter run again. She finished first in her heat in the 100 and despite a block malfunction, she finished with the pack in her heat in the 200. This is where my bias comes in. I know my daughters journey and it wouldn’t have mattered if she came in dead last, she finished first in my mind. I’ve known her struggles through life and how her mind and heart battle every day to survive and I truly felt that my heart was going to burst with pride today. Parenting is hard, but having my children is a privilege and today and everyday I thank a God for the opportunity to have them, love them and watch them fly. I love you all so much, to the moon and stars and back.<br />
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Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-73758502648179795562016-10-02T20:51:00.001-07:002016-10-02T21:59:56.261-07:00Lego Boy<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIt3N3zA0m_5IPp7EP8jPcOr3qs6pnhLPxQEfQ6Dj84Nr11oQPc1wLz_kKQjEQ02H_0hg1K-_OtXXJ_31kfbEyMJxlzqAcSW7wK2Rbs-YBuFQTJVo_1GilMFgEb4PLSDJlf-GtAy8rCZbG/s640/blogger-image-1348380925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIt3N3zA0m_5IPp7EP8jPcOr3qs6pnhLPxQEfQ6Dj84Nr11oQPc1wLz_kKQjEQ02H_0hg1K-_OtXXJ_31kfbEyMJxlzqAcSW7wK2Rbs-YBuFQTJVo_1GilMFgEb4PLSDJlf-GtAy8rCZbG/s640/blogger-image-1348380925.jpg"></a></div>It's often a joke among parents that Legos are our nemesis. Their pointy little edges feel like knives when you step on them, and they seem to multiply and strategically place themselves in the most precarious of places, especially in the middle of night when you least expect it. <p></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">All of this went through my mind tonight when I literally ran into a pile of them while hurrying to gather my six year old's animals for bedtime. However, I didn't curse them this time, instead I actually felt sad. I suddenly realized someday these will be gone, no longer scattered about because in his mind he'll be too old for them and he'll be on to other things. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">So tonight I'll cherish that he loves his animals surrounding him in bed, lullabies and goodnight kisses. I won't mind finding a little person who's crawled in bed beside me in the middle of the night because he's had a bad dream, blanket and pillow forts in the hallway, or foam nerf bullets in my laundry. Instead tonight I'll rejoice in Legos, match box cars and all the other things that represent my sweet little Max. I'm very content to let them be, simply because I know they belong to a sweet little boy who won't be little for long... </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3gzd46ayk35u0k-emPktMoeJ5Chb-hTkUXm83byg_j5qjJYtd5HEcL08oDn96SCSoZHzG061jWjgAZIMc8I3t77IvThjnKPl8XqYr_L7arPzrbCWyqhdznziafDriI4Llw12PjJGQMZqz/s640/blogger-image-201200553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3gzd46ayk35u0k-emPktMoeJ5Chb-hTkUXm83byg_j5qjJYtd5HEcL08oDn96SCSoZHzG061jWjgAZIMc8I3t77IvThjnKPl8XqYr_L7arPzrbCWyqhdznziafDriI4Llw12PjJGQMZqz/s640/blogger-image-201200553.jpg"></a></div><p></p>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-14543396036255089452016-03-24T20:50:00.001-07:002016-03-24T20:50:44.447-07:00My SamToday's my Sam's Sweet 16 birthday and I just wanted to shine the light on him for a moment. Someone once said, having children isn't a right, it's a privilege. This is so true. They are a gift and it is our job to do our best to love them and cherish them like one. They are the purest example of unconditional love. My Sam is all of this. <div>So, on his special day, I would like to share a few stories about him in order to exemplify his kind heart...</div><div>The first took place in the summer of 2014. It was the morning when we were all leaving to go home. Sam was going to Indiana and I was going back to Washington. We'd been together almost non stop for a month and my heart was so sad that it was time to leave. I got up early to go for one last swim and Sam who was asleep in my room woke up and said he would come too. So as the sun came up I swam out to the middle of the lake with my sweet Sam in the kayak next to me. We talked and just shared a peaceful moment together. Most teenagers would have chosen sleep over an early wake up call... But not my Sam. </div><div>Fast forward to just this past January and again it was our last day together. I suggested one last hike the next day before we had to all had to say goodbye and fly home. Several of the kids said they'd go, but when morning came and it was cold and frozen outside, they all backed out... Except for my Sam. There he was dressed and ready to go with my mom and I. It was freezing out and we slipped, slid and actually even a fell a few times throughout our hike that morning, but it was still priceless because we were together. </div><div>Sam, I hope <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">you know that today and everyday I thank my lucky stars that God gave me you. You're amazing and I love you more than all the stars and moons in the sky... Until I can hug you in person, I'm hugging you with my heart. Happy Birthday. Love, Mom</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzxQm1neAV6fSFr5X5SHNoVdDdY4BPNK_7bm0oWyfnFipdDsGOcknTBJ14oKP0hnX5GwCUIzdFX18hxCkZyLRFsKBivcZOmMSe-liny58CWq11yJ5RiP2QvB21YHwYoX3oYovmz5TkQCG/s640/blogger-image-1199318145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzxQm1neAV6fSFr5X5SHNoVdDdY4BPNK_7bm0oWyfnFipdDsGOcknTBJ14oKP0hnX5GwCUIzdFX18hxCkZyLRFsKBivcZOmMSe-liny58CWq11yJ5RiP2QvB21YHwYoX3oYovmz5TkQCG/s640/blogger-image-1199318145.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></span></div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-54827035147305288652016-01-07T20:00:00.001-08:002016-01-07T20:00:04.225-08:00Power of MusicI've always had either songs or music as part of my little ones bedtime. I believe in the power they have in helping to calm the spirit. One of my favorite examples is how I listened to Andrea Bocelli when I was pregnant with Saxton and after she was born, his music would stop her from crying. Now it's one of Max's favorites. <div><br></div><div>I thought about this at clinical on Tuesday when one of the residents was riding up and down in his scooter listening to Reba. Everyone really enjoyed it.</div><div><br></div><div>So Later, when I was talking to one of my patient's wife, I asked her what type of music her husband liked, as he <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">was a stroke victim and couldn't verbalize well. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">She said he liked classical, so I decided to play Max's bedtime playlist him and It was amazing how he responded. You could tell he loved it. When Andrea Bocelli's </span><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Time To Say Goodbye </i><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">started playing, it looked like he was mouthing the words. His wife and a guest who was also visiting couldn't believe it. It was like an awakening.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Later, during his trach care and suctioning, which aren't pleasant, I decided to play the playlist again and he seemed to tolerate the treatment better. It's inspired me to try and bring more music into the healthcare setting and when possible, play it when I can for my patients. After all, you never if it might be the magic tool that will help awaken the soul. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqzDlPOok_IHi9sdkI6PzKmzyPdzcEl6D77JHFA-jc6uxtn2UKYj8tZcJ9jvWv6sKqz-SckgIR9-SUOXqkKOa0RXZPL88FtntHtVsKGuuyy0QbWw65RXeOrJgOKhM1h1AufNMaBGsPgl9/s640/blogger-image-516538844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqzDlPOok_IHi9sdkI6PzKmzyPdzcEl6D77JHFA-jc6uxtn2UKYj8tZcJ9jvWv6sKqz-SckgIR9-SUOXqkKOa0RXZPL88FtntHtVsKGuuyy0QbWw65RXeOrJgOKhM1h1AufNMaBGsPgl9/s640/blogger-image-516538844.jpg"></a></div> </span></div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-66168116175607103352016-01-04T19:59:00.001-08:002016-01-04T19:59:05.891-08:00Tough Going Today<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxKtUzRKOwbhe6PSWXzNbsf8HhxZFTkR-HYVDcgV0b_OyhdWXjgiDzgimILK6sfI2xFgOHidJ0OfxLGFQhhrTcA2Cf_uWTCyHh6cqe3q4NL62_EDeR_FQeu9mV2pfj0DXliQiPIFYPdgg0/s640/blogger-image--538683634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxKtUzRKOwbhe6PSWXzNbsf8HhxZFTkR-HYVDcgV0b_OyhdWXjgiDzgimILK6sfI2xFgOHidJ0OfxLGFQhhrTcA2Cf_uWTCyHh6cqe3q4NL62_EDeR_FQeu9mV2pfj0DXliQiPIFYPdgg0/s640/blogger-image--538683634.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It actually started a few days ago, that aching feeling when it's getting close to Savannah and Sam leaving. My heart gets heavy and a knot settles in the back of my throat. I try not to cry, but eventually mind over matter doesn't work anymore. The hours feel like they're minutes and before I know it, it's time to say goodbye. This morning Sam, my mom and I took one last hike. As we turned to head back home, the emptiness settled in. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Unfortunately circumstances today made the goodbye even harder and as I stood at the edge of the security line keeping me from two of my loves, the all too familiar heart wrenching feeling settled in. The rest of the day I sort of felt numb, but as I landed tonight and the reality set in about the distance between us, I lost it all over again. I just want my babies back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Life sometimes becomes so hectic and our concerns become distorted by meaningless stresses. But for a few days and especially during particularly sweet moments, life made sense and my heart felt complete. For now it's those memories I treasure and cling to as the rest of my world feels torn apart. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I love you Savannah and Sam to the moon and stars and back. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss you so much it hurts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I wish you were here. </div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-10901047798186939262015-05-04T22:46:00.001-07:002015-05-04T22:46:41.839-07:00Eve of Motherhood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLQZE7IpvR_FLxaKYxymO-qVewIL8QDrziAWYqY0OjyVYnQPdw0vOsNuJr2MkXwyNtZq0g4l2XskG9R85lK6JU_BWPWG9yaLvTYidfAMgfUS4t-QjlDFMvSRula38T1HnwU4izGlBweNn/s1600/20923_10205511219436098_6206813897363853855_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLQZE7IpvR_FLxaKYxymO-qVewIL8QDrziAWYqY0OjyVYnQPdw0vOsNuJr2MkXwyNtZq0g4l2XskG9R85lK6JU_BWPWG9yaLvTYidfAMgfUS4t-QjlDFMvSRula38T1HnwU4izGlBweNn/s320/20923_10205511219436098_6206813897363853855_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUKvXwESdkBT0HM5zO42fV9-LKnf41FJI-8L3jKw7tc7PTdqo5JtOdCM50Pz1TXTscGhlZ3YgTHK-8FZSZgTiKf3hikZbMk10sz_zoa7y3HyIp7Olh2Zff-bitvgFTQPTPIHb0Z8cL-0ks/s1600/429049_3351307257716_961006884_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUKvXwESdkBT0HM5zO42fV9-LKnf41FJI-8L3jKw7tc7PTdqo5JtOdCM50Pz1TXTscGhlZ3YgTHK-8FZSZgTiKf3hikZbMk10sz_zoa7y3HyIp7Olh2Zff-bitvgFTQPTPIHb0Z8cL-0ks/s320/429049_3351307257716_961006884_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>Seventeen years ago today I was still pregnant with my firstborn and I went to bed not knowing it was my eve of motherhood. I remember waking up in the early morning hours and realizing my water had broken. Thinking I had hours until she made her appearance, I showered and we took our time leaving for the hospital from our apartment in the suburbs of Chicago. However, now knowing Savannah, I should have known better. Labor came on quickly and between the 45 miles between home and the hospital, we were pulled over twice. After speeding through toll booths without paying and breaking 100 mph on 294, we made it to the hospital just 50 minutes before Savannah made her way into the world. There was no time for pain meds and the delivery was an intense blur. But then, just as the sun was coming up, she was placed in my arms and time stood still. I'll never forget holding her and falling head over heals in an instant. I couldn't believe she was mine. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Now this little sprite is all grown up and I am so very proud of the young woman she has become. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">She is amazing, beautiful and so full of sunshine.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Happy birthday sweet girl... </span><span style="text-align: center;">I love you to the moon and stars... </span><span style="text-align: center;">and back.</span></div>
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<br />Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-83799734811593422562015-02-09T21:39:00.006-08:002015-02-09T21:39:34.786-08:00I'm back in the saddle again, #LifeAsAMomStudent.So Savannah has a blog! It is for school and she is still trying to find her voice. I love it! She asked about my blog and I admitted to allowing it to go to the wayside. So on the eve of my second round of hospital clinicals (I am so nervous!) here goes!<br />
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The main reason I have been missing is because I am in school. In May of last year I got accepted into the Respiratory Therapy Program I had applied to. It started in September and the last several months have been a blur of school, homework, tests, lab practicals and trying to juggle being a mom, wife and friend. I swore when I graduated from Colorado State that I would never tackle school again, but life had different plans.<br />
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The post below is from when I received some of my books from school... it was a scary, but exciting moment to realize I had just set of on a new quest.<br />
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<span id="fbPhotoSnowliftSubscribe"></span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/#" id="u_jsonp_12_18" role="button" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"></a><span class="fsm fwn fcg"><span id="fbPhotoSnowliftTimestamp"><a class="uiLinkSubtle" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10203887295599017&set=a.2279845351838.2131121.1119918367&type=1&permPage=1" style="color: #9197a3; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"><abbr data-shorten="1" data-utime="1409248398" style="border-bottom-style: none;" title="Thursday, August 28, 2014 at 10:53am">August 28, 2014</abbr></a> near <a class="fbPhotosImplicitLocLink" href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/South-Hill-Washington/104024442967672?ref=stream" style="color: #9197a3; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">South Hill, WA</a> </span>· <div class="mls" id="fbPhotoSnowliftAudienceSelector" style="display: inline-block; margin-bottom: -4px; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: -2px; min-height: 22px; vertical-align: top;">
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I think the hardest part of being a student at 38 is being 38. My weekends are spent doing laundry, cleaning up my house and trying to spend time with my kids or doing homework. Last week was insane, I shared this post more in a reminder to myself when I look back, what my weeks were like:</div>
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<i>This is a crazy week! I have three tests this week and four practical exams. Today I had school all day and then I had to go to the grocery, get Sage from soccer come home take Saxton to skate night and then on to basketball practice. Finally home! (Poor Jerry also had to get Brayden from his basketball and now he's gone back into work.) It's time for my dinner and more studying! yeah!<span class="_4-k1 img sp_6FaB5TnSoia sx_f9ea42" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yv/r/zcMr1Dke51J.png); background-position: -136px -326px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></span> *I know I am blessed to be in school and I'm so happy the kids are able to play sports that they love.<span class="_4-k1 img sp_6FaB5TnSoia sx_f9ea42" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yv/r/zcMr1Dke51J.png); background-position: -136px -326px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmO5bZw1bicVc0-0oqkpLQ17FDtdRoth-FfahZEgrdxC35XFnMGE6tpSpEOZrwJX6zgSe-fZjL-_8_YfB5gtzFttt80uD0s0EB-T_k_v5gJv0P-6TyqEweQgVJqkPUiBcra28b2EtK5cD/s1600/IMG_7083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmO5bZw1bicVc0-0oqkpLQ17FDtdRoth-FfahZEgrdxC35XFnMGE6tpSpEOZrwJX6zgSe-fZjL-_8_YfB5gtzFttt80uD0s0EB-T_k_v5gJv0P-6TyqEweQgVJqkPUiBcra28b2EtK5cD/s1600/IMG_7083.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyxVn9b_qu0_uuoc8CZvsqblIhpfjPP5WG8jEHSFPKWomKd61KvuI4GG03-GYNOJ3lQxPuQcDh3IItwPCeC11HDiwGc_6fwL5RVf91iXeLz1V2HWoi3SeTFNltr-URFtriIpnUImL7r-U/s1600/IMG_7082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyxVn9b_qu0_uuoc8CZvsqblIhpfjPP5WG8jEHSFPKWomKd61KvuI4GG03-GYNOJ3lQxPuQcDh3IItwPCeC11HDiwGc_6fwL5RVf91iXeLz1V2HWoi3SeTFNltr-URFtriIpnUImL7r-U/s1600/IMG_7082.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>I do know how blessed I am... but it comes with a price. I sometimes spend 70 plus hours a week either studying or in school. I listen to lectures and recorded reviews in my car most days, I live at my desk upstairs. It is hard for the kids who were used to me being there for all their needs. They have had to step up at home and help with the dishes and chores. I feel pressure to be everything for everyone and that is hard. I think the greatest pressure is the pressure that I put on myself to do well in school and make all of this worth it. My family believes in me, I don't know what I would do without them, especially my Jerry who has helped so much and is the most amazing cheer leader! I guess sometimes I just need to believe in myself. I haven't changed much from high school, I still study at lunch and get nervous before every test. I am a nerd who wants to learn the concepts, not memorize facts for test. This adds a lot of extra work, but I am hoping it will pay off in the end. But most of all I want to succeed at this... </div>
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This is my life these days... (In addition to family and laundry <span class="_4-k1 img sp_6FaB5TnSoia sx_b73696" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yv/r/zcMr1Dke51J.png); background-position: -119px -326px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></span>) Hours of school, 2x those hours of studying, clinical, flash cards, recordings of my lectures (once is never enough) and study guides. Walking and studying works well to tame my extremely stressed psyche. God bless my family and friends for picking up the pieces.<span class="_4-k1 img sp_6FaB5TnSoia sx_979e63" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yv/r/zcMr1Dke51J.png); background-position: -85px -377px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></span><span class="_4-k1 img sp_6FaB5TnSoia sx_fc4a30" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yv/r/zcMr1Dke51J.png); background-position: -374px -377px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></span><span class="_4-k1 img sp_6FaB5TnSoia sx_1bf21c" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yv/r/zcMr1Dke51J.png); background-position: -187px -377px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></span></div>
<span class="userContentSecondary _c24" style="color: #4e5665;"> — at <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=74650617980" href="https://www.facebook.com/ChambersBayGolf" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Chambers Bay</a>.</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #4e5665;"><i style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38;">One thing that </i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38;">has helped </span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">immensely</span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38;"> are my walks/hikes and sometimes runs at Chambers Bay. It has been there that I can decompress and often quietly study. I walk the path and down to the beach and listen to lectures and study my notes. I love it. Sometimes I even walk in the rain. </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="fbPhotoTagList" style="display: inline; line-height: 18px;"><span class="fcg" style="color: #9197a3;">I spent a lot of my life searching for "my place" "my home" and I feel like I have finally found it here. Now I am attempting to fulfill a life long dream of working in the medical field. I feel so lucky to have a place to go to bring me back to my center. I feel so overwhelmed at times and so stressed and Chambers has helped me to find my center. </span></span></div>
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<span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" style="display: inline; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; outline: none; width: auto;" tabindex="0"><br />I have the craziest feeling my grandma is sitting with me as I study. She's good momma... She's really good. She's with grandpa and her heart is so happy!!!</span><span class="fbPhotoTagList" id="fbPhotoSnowliftTagList" style="display: inline; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="fcg" style="color: #9197a3;"> — with <span class="fbPhotoTagListTag withTagItem tagItem"><a class="taggee" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/hovercard.php?id=1669335612&type=withtag&media_info=6.10204582679863189" href="https://www.facebook.com/denise.f.miller" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Denise Frisoni Connelly Miller</a></span>.</span></span></div>
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In November my beloved grandma passed away, the enormity of losing her is a blog post all in its own. But I believe that when I went home to say good-bye to her, I was able to bring her spirit back with me. I talk to her sometimes when I get stressed, I need an angel by my side.</div>
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I also need some friends...</div>
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I am so lucky because I have found some in school. We all come from different paths, but now work towards the same goal, become the best Respiratory Therapists we can. </div>
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<i>I've truly lost my mind! I am now singing Christmas songs to the tune of my Respiratory therapy notes!!! Whoops switch that!I'm singing my notes to the tune of Christmas songs! Let's hope I haven't lost my mind because I need it to take finals next week!<span class="_4-k1 img sp_6FaB5TnSoia sx_d9bdb8" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yv/r/zcMr1Dke51J.png); background-position: -170px -224px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"></span></i></div>
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A Mom/Student's purse and Max at my school. I was proud to show him where I go everyday.<br />
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Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-38402596482407604682014-07-30T21:51:00.001-07:002014-07-30T21:53:06.914-07:00Birthday Tubing<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixF5_9PVVeObmnx8Xyp1ZWXeG7ejIKCmaGxPk2IWjlAt1y6MVP2mOiCKqQp4zo9nllC8QY8X-L0kZHa7Gd1QP1jwYsxRNgURY-2Zkg9YgY3zj7jPwK79tA71VhCGLTYx8De2_px3pE8xKn/s640/blogger-image-1209998828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixF5_9PVVeObmnx8Xyp1ZWXeG7ejIKCmaGxPk2IWjlAt1y6MVP2mOiCKqQp4zo9nllC8QY8X-L0kZHa7Gd1QP1jwYsxRNgURY-2Zkg9YgY3zj7jPwK79tA71VhCGLTYx8De2_px3pE8xKn/s640/blogger-image-1209998828.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My little Saxton turned eleven today and one of her requests was tubing! Well boy did she tube and smile big the whole time! She went with her Aunt Colleen, Uncle Jed, brother Brayden and Sam and sisters Savannah and Sage! She even tubed with me. But my favorite tubing partner for the day would probably be her grandma. She showed us all that age is just a number. Her smile still shines bright in my mind as I type this. I even rode with her, so at one point there were three generations laughing and enjoying a beautiful day on the water. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Life, like a tube behind a boat, flies by fast... It's sure important to grab the handles and hold on to the special moments tight. I know we did today. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Happy Birthday my sweet Saxton! I love you to the moon and stars and back!!</div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-35017479480305938252014-06-16T16:22:00.001-07:002014-06-16T16:38:42.930-07:00Finding Contentment in the Heartland. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92Ks1rHt20TXs_cjBJFEijtg9irbjYQ5BuFqo43y0Dy9ZssPO4vj4VNn64jUmXVf9JRlSL5S3UcU66M7PfLheqaHIkI3TA_aJOU-QF_l7pPj_AgZUl3WEntbx_86vDdZwOtYRwH8tRlkr/s1600/IMG_6222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh92Ks1rHt20TXs_cjBJFEijtg9irbjYQ5BuFqo43y0Dy9ZssPO4vj4VNn64jUmXVf9JRlSL5S3UcU66M7PfLheqaHIkI3TA_aJOU-QF_l7pPj_AgZUl3WEntbx_86vDdZwOtYRwH8tRlkr/s1600/IMG_6222.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beautiful cousin Christi and I. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZH79aj-WPFOsJUSDyqccCSBdmb5-GznwmpF4mYMypWu6-lYHfxnhVduU8AEwxNQA_570NneHk6pWVGPpuyZPGFJVpgvEhTEZUCEEqnj8UYdgVJwe3IXtGhDoozon7xuZNr1rI5PcxtRd/s1600/IMG_6224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZH79aj-WPFOsJUSDyqccCSBdmb5-GznwmpF4mYMypWu6-lYHfxnhVduU8AEwxNQA_570NneHk6pWVGPpuyZPGFJVpgvEhTEZUCEEqnj8UYdgVJwe3IXtGhDoozon7xuZNr1rI5PcxtRd/s1600/IMG_6224.JPG" height="169" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My cousin's youngest Madeline and Ginger</td></tr>
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I have been periodically going for walks with a friend of mine who I will identify as my "Spiritual Leader." He might shy away from such a title, but I think it fits him. He has been helping me to find God again. Not necessarily in a way that my traditional Catholic ways encouraged, but more in the way I needed. A way that led to me praying with more flourish and trust. Isn't that what God wants of us? To trust him with the issues and people closest to our hearts and heaviest on our minds? I believe so. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FVexz6modilUP33Q72wUn66qKXIL-G10OUIeuvQ-XkSfzvlzqG72PzHfmUmuZZC1Y8lD347l6WfNZjP-z7fuuF8Mt1_0vBf6PgAwfLqOIDsL1mMd-lbDDbcH2fIF-LVHStIY8jSlnx91/s1600/IMG_6244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FVexz6modilUP33Q72wUn66qKXIL-G10OUIeuvQ-XkSfzvlzqG72PzHfmUmuZZC1Y8lD347l6WfNZjP-z7fuuF8Mt1_0vBf6PgAwfLqOIDsL1mMd-lbDDbcH2fIF-LVHStIY8jSlnx91/s1600/IMG_6244.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My baby driving me around for the first time!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnCkIp_GoOBn_q9KwdS-T7FKRwEUYvEBK1eahrzQPRFOnlvJw1tWyiR8q3Ndsfe6sxx9TZBnqetixBU6eTitLlqZsk_PGHXpc3OOgi6Cip91GUoWgqwdmUXEeIe_wrLMcYevZA-zVnN2U/s1600/IMG_6237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnCkIp_GoOBn_q9KwdS-T7FKRwEUYvEBK1eahrzQPRFOnlvJw1tWyiR8q3Ndsfe6sxx9TZBnqetixBU6eTitLlqZsk_PGHXpc3OOgi6Cip91GUoWgqwdmUXEeIe_wrLMcYevZA-zVnN2U/s1600/IMG_6237.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sweet Tameca.</td></tr>
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Today my SL (Spiritual Leader) used the analogy of a pounding surf and either allowing the problems and stresses of our life to slowly erode away our shore, or stand strong and hold our position. To become Rocks in a Jetty of sorts. I took to the analogy. Anything to do with the sea and the magic of the boundary between land and water, the edge of the earth, the end of a journey or the beginning, speaks to me. I have loved this blog, now over three years old. I respect it and the freedom of speech that I am entitled to. I want to be honest and sometimes that's scary and I would rather stay silent then to write empty paragraphs.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8q1JfnDdNP2ypEQ9TA-FDtRg0z_2nrvlx8ZUtaraDzxj09wOcUyT2TxixSZwrF__EYIAG5Eo03jxmK-FWR9ImgHq0wBhKlYsCtvL4GGNpEhRI_TtNrFNw9y0B0gj8gKz1d6KQU7PB0Ch/s1600/IMG_6247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir8q1JfnDdNP2ypEQ9TA-FDtRg0z_2nrvlx8ZUtaraDzxj09wOcUyT2TxixSZwrF__EYIAG5Eo03jxmK-FWR9ImgHq0wBhKlYsCtvL4GGNpEhRI_TtNrFNw9y0B0gj8gKz1d6KQU7PB0Ch/s1600/IMG_6247.jpg" height="200" width="194" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My brother Matt and sister Colleen</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uKsl2FJci5QIlkrfIYb546XSjsYjZQ2Hrh0HsfsSj24A58OyxmeXWS-8eAMuvCsKs2Uas5DhEys2zzz9htuDOQpzaVuDTy9kPfTJp0uoL5PxCDRhiC4QLtMhodo9N43dDxK8rLmEQU5o/s1600/IMG_6245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uKsl2FJci5QIlkrfIYb546XSjsYjZQ2Hrh0HsfsSj24A58OyxmeXWS-8eAMuvCsKs2Uas5DhEys2zzz9htuDOQpzaVuDTy9kPfTJp0uoL5PxCDRhiC4QLtMhodo9N43dDxK8rLmEQU5o/s1600/IMG_6245.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>Lately I have been feeling the effects of the heaviness of life. I have been unable at times to shake the exhaustion that comes from carrying too much for too long. For trying too hard to fix everything, defend my actions, make right the world. I have to hand over the responsibility to others. An analogy my SL gave me was how often times others will throw their anger, nastiness, issues, hatred and negativity at you like a ball in hopes you will catch it and maybe even throw it back bringing you down to their level. I have to learn to allow the ball to drop. Sometimes it's okay to just let the ball fall and walk away. One of my husband's favorite sayings is, "Just because they say it, doesn't make it true." Just because they throw it at you, doesn't mean you have to catch it, carry it or keep it. Just let it drop.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKYC096GhkBO3ursfvm7wxrZacFsnXjRTd-p4XuFYi2MK1lFT4RfBi7LbxvTRS4PwdR9ljjqlv720AIRjhhNy6wUEMp2RW9PDsOgxWOfL5sXW71WVWhVsjHW5onNONlkDpLioK2u07KZ4/s1600/IMG_6303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKYC096GhkBO3ursfvm7wxrZacFsnXjRTd-p4XuFYi2MK1lFT4RfBi7LbxvTRS4PwdR9ljjqlv720AIRjhhNy6wUEMp2RW9PDsOgxWOfL5sXW71WVWhVsjHW5onNONlkDpLioK2u07KZ4/s1600/IMG_6303.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loving on my niece Alannah.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgnH4EkIQyZ4a4DZ8cHas_6AbwHUmcfoDs1GulEaiNtK0sok6VEE53apxkts5W-YvLiMOEu_r94ea0kmm8DYfSMdAQ3Oa6wF-CXoY18HyUeMBWL87E2lQETpEhFWQge-NjRQAejDlnXMn/s1600/IMG_6389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgnH4EkIQyZ4a4DZ8cHas_6AbwHUmcfoDs1GulEaiNtK0sok6VEE53apxkts5W-YvLiMOEu_r94ea0kmm8DYfSMdAQ3Oa6wF-CXoY18HyUeMBWL87E2lQETpEhFWQge-NjRQAejDlnXMn/s1600/IMG_6389.jpg" height="242" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam and his Uncle Jed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSf9pDANmuTa_BLhBKCT4ahdMJvGZuGiQThl1usgC0j8z4z-ovyrAJLuxb5DvWFabJT3CIBZOdzuGAQGEpfRXDeN7zZrTpP7gcWRIUGNJheDmC-z42bGOkH-9fhhwSJKXvTMvVPCzU5bNo/s1600/IMG_6404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSf9pDANmuTa_BLhBKCT4ahdMJvGZuGiQThl1usgC0j8z4z-ovyrAJLuxb5DvWFabJT3CIBZOdzuGAQGEpfRXDeN7zZrTpP7gcWRIUGNJheDmC-z42bGOkH-9fhhwSJKXvTMvVPCzU5bNo/s1600/IMG_6404.jpg" height="171" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love at first sight.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYHp6QQ1KKEsZR1sp3nrYfduGO9yj77GnD6RuWb1ssrGzBIKETxeM_cy4Dc-m3xD5IB3iWhyfpXp1U7E6lm9YRm-olT5nqDVdjRmusYeFc7IX4vS72aWHrBnMvQFmV3qQzuwG23fvi2Dj/s1600/IMG_6432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYHp6QQ1KKEsZR1sp3nrYfduGO9yj77GnD6RuWb1ssrGzBIKETxeM_cy4Dc-m3xD5IB3iWhyfpXp1U7E6lm9YRm-olT5nqDVdjRmusYeFc7IX4vS72aWHrBnMvQFmV3qQzuwG23fvi2Dj/s1600/IMG_6432.jpg" height="200" width="177" /></a><br />
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I went back to Indiana a few weeks ago to see my two oldest babies. (<i>I know they are no longer "babies" but I use that term of endearment because I like what it means to me.) </i><br />
There I go defending... I even do it in my writing. That's another thing that I wish I could free everyone from, the need to defend themselves. It's a trap I fall into, the need to explain, defend, instead of letting the ball drop. Getting to see my babies meant seeing my Ex, driving with him the few miles to surprise my Savannah at school. We proved we could be civil for more than a moment for the sake of our beautiful children. It was worth every ounce of anxiety that I previously felt to see the look on her face when she realized I was the one in the passenger seat. To watch her drop her back pack and run screaming and crying into my arms. It was a perfect moment.<br />
Later I was even able to sit across from him when we went to lunch with Savannah and her friend. I wish we could have extended the civility to the drop off, but we still have a long way to go in the healing process. And unfortunately sometimes the situation just is what it is.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid2tEjYEcw9WPZBge9nhhp3Yf2W4EU5zvggcnHJuZlwpJZ5TTgUf9-wlP1zfipKhej_-c1n_6O0xu_ehWBAZQlEkvN1JWP4Q4Jcera12USHN3h5tMRsnHxstDzPefXkhsa9PKBqQGNHyBF/s1600/IMG_6467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid2tEjYEcw9WPZBge9nhhp3Yf2W4EU5zvggcnHJuZlwpJZ5TTgUf9-wlP1zfipKhej_-c1n_6O0xu_ehWBAZQlEkvN1JWP4Q4Jcera12USHN3h5tMRsnHxstDzPefXkhsa9PKBqQGNHyBF/s1600/IMG_6467.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loving on Grandma. My Angel in My Life. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpG-_Ftx7cySdioKr1CiuBUEOsfFHI0LkimOiJOolesMk4DrCCBkayd_6gCm389HDRYIUlYi3sSepJvBhDUQiWWjQe-OixyHPYhaRlqdHgcjletpRn4s1oBcBf0hvXpvpYI8erTCH347ij/s1600/IMG_6477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpG-_Ftx7cySdioKr1CiuBUEOsfFHI0LkimOiJOolesMk4DrCCBkayd_6gCm389HDRYIUlYi3sSepJvBhDUQiWWjQe-OixyHPYhaRlqdHgcjletpRn4s1oBcBf0hvXpvpYI8erTCH347ij/s1600/IMG_6477.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girlfriends!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_lkQVJrQpD8Tl7vZkxE6nkWoiPpO6jANcRyAWqRYcN5xRTw8rmQ7JDtyPihMCUdv3uiuBF3L6GhyaSn49dGsLIhVp0iKNWE-Qkia9O02Wx-Q9K_DAv4AkPw7LzmZycBY0hsUHPtCOylk/s1600/IMG_6535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_lkQVJrQpD8Tl7vZkxE6nkWoiPpO6jANcRyAWqRYcN5xRTw8rmQ7JDtyPihMCUdv3uiuBF3L6GhyaSn49dGsLIhVp0iKNWE-Qkia9O02Wx-Q9K_DAv4AkPw7LzmZycBY0hsUHPtCOylk/s1600/IMG_6535.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love is giving your friend a much needed pedicure</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">!</td></tr>
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While I was in Indiana, I had this moment of pure contentment. My girlfriend Leslie decided I needed a pedicure and with the help of her two oldest (who were doll babies and even gave Savannah, Sam and I their rooms for two nights), set it up right there on her back patio. Sam was there with a grin and Savannah too, as well as another one of my dearest friends and I was just happy. The anxiousness of traveling, flying to Chicago, driving to Indy and the stress of the unknown with my Ex just melted away. I was surrounded by love and friendship. I allowed myself to be happy. I absorbed all the love I received from that trip, from my cousin in Chicago, my siblings, my family, my grandma, my beloved friends and their children and from my sweet babies and allowed myself to let go. Take the best and leave the rest. <span id="goog_1985818990"></span><span id="goog_1985818991"></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHbYHCgwHvE0_euUZFkErpHXu8RzqOjr3oaX1nJTpwyeH7zKwY0dSFuUlf1k-AMElDTkbfONphgUqSgxwRrWk5iAogS8ff_yqT4-oi1l6rVU8htAHwm4E236PZxqQV7bylPysKKdSwG5W/s1600/IMG_6480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHbYHCgwHvE0_euUZFkErpHXu8RzqOjr3oaX1nJTpwyeH7zKwY0dSFuUlf1k-AMElDTkbfONphgUqSgxwRrWk5iAogS8ff_yqT4-oi1l6rVU8htAHwm4E236PZxqQV7bylPysKKdSwG5W/s1600/IMG_6480.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A whole bunch of littles and even missing three!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9B70Ez2QaGzp8b-6BUaFLQlgYPJliP8oMq_ERZV9wLAuEiLcwmCzZawD78365Rf_NKAM9dch3X6zcbwUlerV02srBFqiUZOFPzypcI5w_1R1k0pN6J5dZQsavElCtV7W2OSYGHIMlzEq/s1600/IMG_6565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9B70Ez2QaGzp8b-6BUaFLQlgYPJliP8oMq_ERZV9wLAuEiLcwmCzZawD78365Rf_NKAM9dch3X6zcbwUlerV02srBFqiUZOFPzypcI5w_1R1k0pN6J5dZQsavElCtV7W2OSYGHIMlzEq/s1600/IMG_6565.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rqIVXxGs69VGmUQ5zA0Pkwtzr8kzHB2ZUbz9T-1PDH9szLcJqc6OpjV5JvAbZdYP1U2l49Ky31GAK-00nkbREr5pXY7yefXeNwIc7vHACFRAKZO2NsQYgS0FL033XfB44y2Lre0I81U6/s1600/IMG_6560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rqIVXxGs69VGmUQ5zA0Pkwtzr8kzHB2ZUbz9T-1PDH9szLcJqc6OpjV5JvAbZdYP1U2l49Ky31GAK-00nkbREr5pXY7yefXeNwIc7vHACFRAKZO2NsQYgS0FL033XfB44y2Lre0I81U6/s1600/IMG_6560.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>I also realized yet again how incredibly blessed I am to have people envelope me in their arms, no matter how long its been. One example is my friend Tameca. We hadn't seen one another in years, but it may as well have been only a moment. The love and friendship still there, still strong and she literally stood arm and arm with me as my Ex pulled up. That feeling of solidarity that never left no matter the length of time that had passed. Each and every hug I received, from my Best Friend Leslie's husband's famous bear hugs to my delicate embrace with my Grandma reminded me that no matter what you can count on love. Moments such as holding my beautiful new baby niece for the first time and a middle of the night giggle fest with Savannah as we enjoyed a priceless slumber party at Leslie's, prompted me to enjoy the simple moments of contentment. They are not something you can buy or even plan, they just happen.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnOg2pqDTPReZavbvJX8M_B2qWvpfoLhyphenhyphenJWSebreHPRvundNaD9cwS-Od5lHE32cPUjMMKwvtSVxM7KiMv4uV1ZDJGrwhG4e2oJzn8k1Ko1XGCwlrzAcitKOicr25KxYz-p8gHnruWp9xI/s1600/IMG_6630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnOg2pqDTPReZavbvJX8M_B2qWvpfoLhyphenhyphenJWSebreHPRvundNaD9cwS-Od5lHE32cPUjMMKwvtSVxM7KiMv4uV1ZDJGrwhG4e2oJzn8k1Ko1XGCwlrzAcitKOicr25KxYz-p8gHnruWp9xI/s1600/IMG_6630.JPG" height="251" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My loves... Leslie, Lauri and Jen</td></tr>
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It's ironic, as I type this the rain comes and goes, as does the sunshine and for a few moments I am able to enjoy them both. I say this because I have learned to embrace the rain, the clouds, the storms along with the sun. I appreciate the sound of the rain on the trees, the shade of the clouds and the way the trees sound in a storm. These are not things to curse, but to embrace. The rain cleans my soul and the stale air that sometimes surrounds us. It's funny because earlier today after my SL and I said our good-byes the rain really started to fall. I initially ran, trying to beat the drops. But then I stopped, walked and as the rain poured over me, I prayed for the it to wash away my worries. I have felt better since. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbxixwxqDsO4BfMKBILj3q0HqxtD-O_nDPxpmdi8oHZ8aCf3bYYbBaMSeFikhnQc2OWpNufVJ7NMjEr7sSMfO7Yufc7WT3J7RIh8DVwXfCxcM7G_mIy7SzCwv2U9znh075FZVlaoVexJrW/s1600/IMG_6584.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbxixwxqDsO4BfMKBILj3q0HqxtD-O_nDPxpmdi8oHZ8aCf3bYYbBaMSeFikhnQc2OWpNufVJ7NMjEr7sSMfO7Yufc7WT3J7RIh8DVwXfCxcM7G_mIy7SzCwv2U9znh075FZVlaoVexJrW/s1600/IMG_6584.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leslie's Littles!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9XZeiBYHIckniBzVOKRVHnYwYGJZp15sINgivxNHumX7rHL-9_MJefw3rYUqWt9reerX7yYAcKF-mk22BzWl8xh_ph10zkptvXnK3xJCbYX20FCjODScn6qJS6XfrziFPh4WDoqnFXBt/s1600/IMG_6613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9XZeiBYHIckniBzVOKRVHnYwYGJZp15sINgivxNHumX7rHL-9_MJefw3rYUqWt9reerX7yYAcKF-mk22BzWl8xh_ph10zkptvXnK3xJCbYX20FCjODScn6qJS6XfrziFPh4WDoqnFXBt/s1600/IMG_6613.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauri's Littles with mine!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFB9bNLF5nAPk47wb5P5JNGzjdoRA2gIwOVRxKqAIgTB2FVHhOSJkPYndheAplc2qCl-AOQQMXFyDHBJrt8dbyO95jR3x4e3J5i4ibhEAvaaV1625plCH98xFympYr5fYiqtd4w15aklzU/s1600/IMG_6648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFB9bNLF5nAPk47wb5P5JNGzjdoRA2gIwOVRxKqAIgTB2FVHhOSJkPYndheAplc2qCl-AOQQMXFyDHBJrt8dbyO95jR3x4e3J5i4ibhEAvaaV1625plCH98xFympYr5fYiqtd4w15aklzU/s1600/IMG_6648.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My wonderful Cara! She drove with me 27 hours to help move me to Washington! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUBcULGUt_FzyTGcbJdk5oHWulmysXJPzi5LhEsE6teKWa1sP1rAzHE_VkDY61hJ8GT31UWSBe-p6DhJ6F3dQr9xpe2svFZLNqV0E-UVtuBEh8ku6eyVDh2krof5-J7wdHdFv9V2u6PZd/s1600/IMG_6642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUBcULGUt_FzyTGcbJdk5oHWulmysXJPzi5LhEsE6teKWa1sP1rAzHE_VkDY61hJ8GT31UWSBe-p6DhJ6F3dQr9xpe2svFZLNqV0E-UVtuBEh8ku6eyVDh2krof5-J7wdHdFv9V2u6PZd/s1600/IMG_6642.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Sam! </td></tr>
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My tendency is to feel anxiety, to worry, to feel fearful and count on the worst. This is what a person's past can do to them. However, my pledge to myself is to give all that to God. I can't foresee the future, but I have to trust that I am on the right path. If I am, then I have to have faith that God will help me along it. To me that is my secret to contentment, knowing in my heart that I am right where I am supposed to be, doing what I am supposed to be doing and trusting God with the rest. I guess I should take a lesson from my first real driving experience with my daughter Savannah, as terrifying as it is, sometimes you just have to let go and just trust someone else to take the wheel. <br />
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<br />Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-65623619951582302492014-05-05T22:32:00.000-07:002014-05-05T22:32:32.618-07:00Happy Love<br />
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<img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn2/t1.0-9/1460957_10201924081119882_318802589_n.jpg" style="height: 556px; width: 556px;" width="400" /><br />
Love in the raw<br />
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In a day in age of selfies and staged photographs set to be perfect for social media, this photo is so much more. This was taken by my husband of my daughter Savannah and I after dinner as we shared both a blanket and an Oreo cookie.<br />
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You can't see my face, but you can see my laugh lines. The unbridled smile on Savannah's is my favorite. It's so innocent and genuine. <br />
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Today my sweet girl turned sixteen and when I thought about what I wanted to write, I decided to post this picture. I almost solely use my photography in my blog, but I really love what this image says....<br />
We love each other like crazy.<br />
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A love between a mother and her baby is amazing. It's perfect and beautiful. No matter the storms I have been through, Savannah has been my sunshine. The sound of her voice calms my soul and the day she was born, sixteen years ago today, was the day that I found true love for the first time in my life. <br />
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I love you sweet girl, to the moon and the stars and back! Happy 16th Birthday and I will see you in 24 days, 14 hours, 30 minutes and 57 seconds... but who's counting? <br />
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Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-12279886152434855332014-05-01T23:31:00.001-07:002014-05-01T23:31:46.317-07:00Where did the time go baby girl?<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOkWnCVguINvuZOcE636fZvrJIATYqE6VyYMq126nw42RXXMYmDVHiq41bqEZTcznRciUYBqt6eHSQofIJ7kXlw3Ea6cD9GchcrnKH65sBhIEdDuOASypCNdVo8OJ1DrAmu7QPKKvIqmF/s640/blogger-image--1610895032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOkWnCVguINvuZOcE636fZvrJIATYqE6VyYMq126nw42RXXMYmDVHiq41bqEZTcznRciUYBqt6eHSQofIJ7kXlw3Ea6cD9GchcrnKH65sBhIEdDuOASypCNdVo8OJ1DrAmu7QPKKvIqmF/s640/blogger-image--1610895032.jpg"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Where did the time go baby girl?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You are now just days from being sixteen, but it feels like just moments ago when I photographed this smile. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You were born a sprite and as I watch you grow into a beautiful young woman, I still love that you've kept your impish grin. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I remember seeing that smile when you were one, having found you precariously perched on the kitchen counter. You had helped yourself to a spoonful of peanut <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">butter and were very proud. You knew what you wanted and went for it. As much as I couldn't admit it that day, it's a quality I always want you to keep. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm getting very nostalgic as your birthday approaches, remembering the days before you were born like they were yesterday. One thing I want you to know, is that while I truly and deeply loved you even before I saw you... I never could have known how that love would grow beyond measure... Beyond the moon, beyond the stars and back. </div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-10932333563755133212014-04-14T18:48:00.000-07:002014-04-14T18:48:30.879-07:00Come walk with me, be not only my sister, but also my friend...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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When I look back at my chaotic and colorful life I question so much. However, I would never wish to go back and take a separate path. Doing so would result in erasing the rainbows that came from the storm. </div>
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Today I was looking at this photograph, simply playing with a new editing tool. But as I erased color, the true emotion came out. I can picture Savannah's smile, even if I can't see her face. I can imagine the way her eyes are lit up like sunshine as she looks at her brother. I can see the emotion in how their arms are wrapped around one another and feel their love. I can imagine Sam's slight grin and hear Savannah's laugh. </div>
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My children are the best part of me, they are the color in my life. The fact that life hasn't always been beautiful is my reality, but the beauty in this photograph is my blessing. I love you sweet babies, to the moon and stars and back. </div>
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Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-24513779734528818202014-03-24T23:30:00.001-07:002014-03-24T23:30:21.178-07:00It's not just another day Sam, It's so much more to me, you're so much more!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam on his fifth birthday 3/24/05</td></tr>
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Today my oldest son Sam turned 14. While I was lucky to be able to Facetime with him quite a bit, he did say something that made me sad, he said that today was just another day, downsizing it's importance. I quickly told him otherwise, that today is one of the best days of my life. Today marks the birthday of one of my first true loves, my sweet Sam.<br />
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In honor of my Sam's birthday, I want to tell you a story that exemplifies his kind heart. This past summer Sam and Savannah we here (with Max) and were our major helpers in our move. (Sage, Saxton and Brayden were all gone.) After doing the majority of moving ourselves, we were all exhausted. A few nights into our new home, I commented how I was so tired that I wished someone would just carry me to bed. That is just what Sam did. My almost six foot tall son scooped me up and laughing the whole way, just about made it up the stairs and too my room. Just thinking about it now brings tears to my eyes. That's my Sam's heart. <br />
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Sam's a rare breed. He's a defender, a love with your whole heart and soul, do what you can to make people happy kind of guy. He's a love bug who has always loved to snuggle. He's a hard worker and a loyal friend. He's a diamond in the rough. He's amazing. I'm so lucky he's my son. <br />
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To quote Sam's favorite artist, Bob Marley<br />
<b><i>"Some people feel the rain, others just get wet" </i></b><br />
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My dear Sam, continue to march to the beat of your own drum. The world is full of people that can be defined as "popular" "normal" "part of the crowd." Don't be them, be you. Be that little boy who wore slacks, a dress shirt and a sweater vest to kindergarten. Be different, spectacular and most important be yourself. "Unique" is a compliment. "Weird" is a badge of honor, because it means you are living your life thinking outside of the box, dancing to the music you love in the soundtrack of your life. Happiness is feeling the freedom to be who you are no matter what. As your integrity and sincerity becomes apparent to those around you, you'll shine in a room full of darkness. Remember the Bob Marley quote and the day that you, Savannah and I ran in the rain, laughing the whole while. That's the secret to life.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76RxAoXH9kLnKmdXc9FKXuRD-XTUao9mFIhiHi2Ha-ySb19H5cJM3awHkHKWmAsV4hdUcw0xusZHBvqZt2UM9Pq4odtyb4YVUdezBP1jqG7ly2FLYFE0yLIhsVtyYx9CNdAQOKZI0Nkyq/s1600/DSC_0931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj76RxAoXH9kLnKmdXc9FKXuRD-XTUao9mFIhiHi2Ha-ySb19H5cJM3awHkHKWmAsV4hdUcw0xusZHBvqZt2UM9Pq4odtyb4YVUdezBP1jqG7ly2FLYFE0yLIhsVtyYx9CNdAQOKZI0Nkyq/s1600/DSC_0931.JPG" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>
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Happy Birthday my sweet boy, I love you more than you know, I love you to the moon and stars and back.<br />
Love, Mom <br />
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.
- Bob Marley - See more at: http://quotesnsmiles.com/quotes/20-classic-bob-marley-quotes/#sthash.AjOM5xO2.dpuf</div>
<div id="stcpDiv" style="left: -1988px; position: absolute; top: -1999px;">
Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.
- Bob Marley - See more at: http://quotesnsmiles.com/quotes/20-classic-bob-marley-quotes/#sthash.AjOM5xO2.dpuf</div>
Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-74190715044003424002014-02-22T23:35:00.001-08:002014-02-22T23:35:47.297-08:00What I wouldn't give to go back in time...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirucnrlEfb8MV_PFQ1l9bTBctLaGh8q6ELWI0hkwkT6vM7wOk2ZSWI19ctFn2iMvflbOvPUD6m8bM528RpZ5mziOJ9wTWg-PuT0MEIht7aHcWk66sSL8Vqzuz2hGp9Clewq8zr8D6zw_AM/s640/blogger-image-1295857870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirucnrlEfb8MV_PFQ1l9bTBctLaGh8q6ELWI0hkwkT6vM7wOk2ZSWI19ctFn2iMvflbOvPUD6m8bM528RpZ5mziOJ9wTWg-PuT0MEIht7aHcWk66sSL8Vqzuz2hGp9Clewq8zr8D6zw_AM/s640/blogger-image-1295857870.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My little Sage turned twelve today...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Where does the time go? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYqM7rnjbRVmniTuokFKg8rqIkXpeY7W6p7wkteXut563BmBR0E0mFa3D_pzyGHljkQsjefGzf38qmnRqP806FqlYSitbpd2DAheoOV36Ub9m_b1MT3uB9HxyVUZYpNfRwUbHtlypCNwQ/s640/blogger-image-604220478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNYqM7rnjbRVmniTuokFKg8rqIkXpeY7W6p7wkteXut563BmBR0E0mFa3D_pzyGHljkQsjefGzf38qmnRqP806FqlYSitbpd2DAheoOV36Ub9m_b1MT3uB9HxyVUZYpNfRwUbHtlypCNwQ/s640/blogger-image-604220478.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The little sprites in these photos are quickly growing up to be beautiful young ladies... Full of gumption and sparkle. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7SpxNUG9ye1UxSzhMWEhfqL7nYvjeIHjiyT3ovzPr5WDUR8kWSi4Hu6KtVNx05CdXpRj0X9XIo7wKpgF1LHYLO91m0FggNLLOCCcjF97KuunyK_PfmBD5_Y7ymIhcC8KsaYLb2QT0PLR/s640/blogger-image-482557024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7SpxNUG9ye1UxSzhMWEhfqL7nYvjeIHjiyT3ovzPr5WDUR8kWSi4Hu6KtVNx05CdXpRj0X9XIo7wKpgF1LHYLO91m0FggNLLOCCcjF97KuunyK_PfmBD5_Y7ymIhcC8KsaYLb2QT0PLR/s640/blogger-image-482557024.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As much as I love watching them wonderfully transform...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I would still give almost anything to have them just be little like this again, even if just for one day. With their Velcro shoes and innocence. To hug them and whisper I love you in their ear...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Life has already been hard for them. They've dealt with more than their share of pain. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So my prayer today on Sage's birthday, is that from this point forward they'll instead know much joy, peace and forever and always love. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I love you my sweeties to the moon and stars and back...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2TODVM-lJtXk0epOW3OCwkrngzqkT3IjTlVwwEH3N2EZsV_CZsVHiqnPWYqXZQMDC1pj91jQ701yLSNIFENxUIAZaEjz6RQOeFLOcoFALSh5oxWMw-UWfEqR5t1ZclT8ujgTem8qWI2g/s640/blogger-image-364322103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2TODVM-lJtXk0epOW3OCwkrngzqkT3IjTlVwwEH3N2EZsV_CZsVHiqnPWYqXZQMDC1pj91jQ701yLSNIFENxUIAZaEjz6RQOeFLOcoFALSh5oxWMw-UWfEqR5t1ZclT8ujgTem8qWI2g/s640/blogger-image-364322103.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Happy Birthday my sweet Sage!</div><br></div><br></span></div></div><br></div><br>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-17584948124724577772014-02-18T21:43:00.002-08:002014-02-18T21:53:48.454-08:00The Purpose Driven RunYears ago I read a book called <a href="http://purposedriven.com/books/pdlbook/#purpose"><i>The Purpose Driven Life</i></a> It was meant to be a guide to how you were choosing to live each day. (You can click on the link to find out more information.) This book came to mind tonight while I was on my run. In the past few weeks and even the past year, I have been able to run more than I have since I was 18-19 years old (I am now 37.) Because of having children, but probably more as a result of several injuries that I incurred while running, I gave it up for the most part, until last year when through Facebook, I found out about the <span class="entity _586o" data-fulltext="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-type="ent:event" data-uid="514823015291839"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/514823015291839/540753459365461/?notif_t=plan_mall_activity">Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness</a> which has now become the largest virtual cross-country running event ever. The purpose is to not only bring awareness, but also give support to families dealing with childhood cancer. </span><br />
<span class="entity _586o" data-fulltext="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-type="ent:event" data-uid="514823015291839"><br /></span>
<span class="entity _586o" data-fulltext="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-type="ent:event" data-uid="514823015291839">Tonight as I was running, I literally was served a symbolic reminder of why we are all doing this. It's been raining cats and dogs all day and while I was able to get the first mile in without much rain, by mile two is was steadily coming down. I honestly didn't mind and was fine until someone decided to purposely drive through a large puddle of water, completely drenching me in the process. It was at this point that I was reminded yet again why I was out here in the first place, at that moment I thought about all the babies I am running for and any small discomfort I might feel is nothing in comparison to what they deal with on a daily basis. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="entity _586o" data-fulltext="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-type="ent:event" data-uid="514823015291839">The last thing I want this blog to come across is me trying to make myself look like a martyr. I absolutely am not, its not about me, it's the complete opposite! It's about something so much bigger than me or any of my fellow runners/walkers/bikers/swimmers who are logging miles, it's about the combined love that we all feel towards these little ones. It's about having a purpose to our workouts, it's about running past aches and pains in order to give our team leader, Brian Jones, something to log. It's about the huge inspiration that these children who are battling everyday, who are the true warriors, have become to us. It's about Hailee, Jaydon, Missy, Lincoln, Talia, Nicholas, Sam, Ellie, Trent, Delaney, Leo, Ronan, Ethan, Colton, Heaven, Taylor, Ryan, Beth, Austin, Simon, Brooklyn and so many other little soldiers, some of who have already lost their battle, but still continue to inspire us. </span><br />
<span class="entity _586o" data-fulltext="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-type="ent:event" data-uid="514823015291839"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntIZoATZef0spDsNNfT7V7awNllfmK5uWFdqne2vcJnSnXRTuoHWBDBkAVv83GT80h3DNUf-u7Z7LMnTxkT6pfXb1juxu8MXtna87RiLwKzKMQ3DCR0LiCc_gPQ1uyyb_0WIOJ83ax7VO/s1600/IMG_1923.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntIZoATZef0spDsNNfT7V7awNllfmK5uWFdqne2vcJnSnXRTuoHWBDBkAVv83GT80h3DNUf-u7Z7LMnTxkT6pfXb1juxu8MXtna87RiLwKzKMQ3DCR0LiCc_gPQ1uyyb_0WIOJ83ax7VO/s1600/IMG_1923.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a><span class="entity _586o" data-fulltext="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-type="ent:event" data-uid="514823015291839">Everyday I am able to run I am grateful. I know I am living on borrowed time as far as my body is concerned, but I thank God for every mile he allows me to knock out. Sometimes when a certain song comes on <a href="http://pandora.com/">Pandora</a>, I swear He's cheering me on. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="entity _586o" data-fulltext="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-type="ent:event" data-uid="514823015291839">My hope is to be able to keep this up until September, Childhood Cancer Awareness month. My other huge hope, is to get others to join our quest. Even if you aren't a runner, you can walk, bike, swim or even dedicate workouts to our kids. One very inspiring story is about man who recently suffered a stroke and dedicated his physical therapy time towards miles, that's amazing! Truly anyone can join us, all you have to do is log into Facebook, like our page and post your workouts on the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/514823015291839/540753459365461/?notif_t=plan_mall_activity">Run For the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014</a>. That's it! The reality is that childhood cancer gets pennies to the dollar when it comes to funding and there is not enough being done currently to stop this epidemic, we need to bring light to this. If you want to learn more, you can also check out this link, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/theTruth365film">The Truth 365</a>. Come on, Let's do this, Let's kick Cancer's ASS!</span><br />
<span class="entity _586o" data-fulltext="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Run for the White House for Childhood Cancer Awareness 2014" data-type="ent:event" data-uid="514823015291839"> </span>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-4596698519540873312014-02-14T22:13:00.001-08:002014-02-15T12:42:09.508-08:00"To Build A Home"<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>"Out in the garden where we planted the seeds<br>There is a tree as old as me<br>Branches were sewn by the color of green<br>Ground had arose and passed it's knees"</i></span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>The Cinematic Orchestra</b> </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMg4scOpAzfQNuJCBo6d1-HB9m6bFWgJSv6kzSNwLgx8yDkxfG5hfrfz3UDntw-z9IuiVbLXRin_5tOSBUnboZ3iiGVbcwd6EXhPSuvG-A06TvY5pong7DxUreEkta5npLPp12-V68d8px/s640/blogger-image--983436554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMg4scOpAzfQNuJCBo6d1-HB9m6bFWgJSv6kzSNwLgx8yDkxfG5hfrfz3UDntw-z9IuiVbLXRin_5tOSBUnboZ3iiGVbcwd6EXhPSuvG-A06TvY5pong7DxUreEkta5npLPp12-V68d8px/s640/blogger-image--983436554.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I've always loved music, but even more I love the messages told through the lyrics. I love when you can't find the words and then a song comes on and helps you to express exactly how you feel. There are also those times when a song can dive so deep into your soul that you didn't even realize such a place existed. That's what happened last night when I heard a song that Savannah had mentioned on her twitter. She was "obsessed" with it and I wanted to know why. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">When Savannah, Sam and I have moments that are just us, we immerse ourselves in songs and discuss their meaning, or sometimes we just let the message roll over us. (Maybe because they're a little older and because all we've been through, our music taste is mutual.) The majority of these moments are in the car, maybe just driving from the airport or most likely we're on an adventure, like when we drove to Forks this past summer. Savannah, Sam, Max and I drove away from most everything and wound up in far NW Washington at the edge of where the ocean meets the sea. During times like these, music is almost heard as a soundtrack, and gives special meaning to the moment. As we laugh and talk and explore the literal or figurative uncharted territory in our lives, music enhances our journey.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV7c9hCRFD40h2Yc9zOtfpH_y1cXRWq__zdAQpt68oVDW45rEWrfMryCNH__F0qJ2odz81guU-xw3oHJtMBktA7w6efnbwzKjH8ZrjMzD7I5z5TvJ4VX9j5r3YWVHBaT4vOUwc2SwgYtkW/s640/blogger-image-1976493007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV7c9hCRFD40h2Yc9zOtfpH_y1cXRWq__zdAQpt68oVDW45rEWrfMryCNH__F0qJ2odz81guU-xw3oHJtMBktA7w6efnbwzKjH8ZrjMzD7I5z5TvJ4VX9j5r3YWVHBaT4vOUwc2SwgYtkW/s640/blogger-image-1976493007.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>"Where are you going<br>With your long face<br>Pullin' down<br>Don't hide away,<br>Like an ocean<br>That you can't see<br>But you can smell<br>And the sound of waves crash down.<br>I am no superman<br>I have no reasons for you.<br>I am no hero,<br>Aw that for sure,<br>But I do know one thing,<br>That's where you are is where I belong.<br>I do know<br>Where you go, <br>Is where I wanta be."</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>Dave Matthews </b></span></div><br></div><div>Dear Savannah and Sam,</div><div>Always let the music you hear, </div><div>Help the constant healing in your heart.</div><div>Love you to the moon and stars, moon and stars and back. Love, Momma </div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-41946272192951653952014-02-11T11:37:00.000-08:002014-02-11T11:37:25.219-08:00Pregnancy Pre-Parenting and how Love ultimately wins over.
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My baby sister Colleen and her husband Jed are just a little
over a month away from the birth of their first child, they are expecting a
little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were out of town working on Jed’s
family’s ranch, so I was only able to spend a few days
with them during my October visit to New Mexico.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But the day Max and I left, we went with Colleen to <a href="http://target.com/">Target</a> to give her
some ideas on what to register for, it <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">meant a lot to
me to be able to get a little bit of time with her during the most amazing time of
her life, her first pregnancy </span>As
I looked around and took in all the baby inventory, I realized that I could
give her opinions on what she’ll need for the baby, but what she had needed most, or maybe not, was a little sisterly advice. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqszbCr2kcM6aweontdw3TZWs6yIJoxrGTpTejHuN4QoWqaPfyfSLJje54JMUq2qtgrxeVZyr72VSWI6rwc0_sbNB80nxWcV0I3JqjQqv5iRNlABv7t7mA9iRxCoO-1KnY4PeVaM0SSCIT/s1600/IMG_1102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqszbCr2kcM6aweontdw3TZWs6yIJoxrGTpTejHuN4QoWqaPfyfSLJje54JMUq2qtgrxeVZyr72VSWI6rwc0_sbNB80nxWcV0I3JqjQqv5iRNlABv7t7mA9iRxCoO-1KnY4PeVaM0SSCIT/s1600/IMG_1102.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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Earlier in the day, Colleen, her husband, Max and I went to
get some breakfast burritos from <a href="http://www.lotaburger.com/">Blakes Lotaburger</a>, they are by far the best
in town! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While we were driving and
chatting, I was handing out my two cents on being a new parent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to not be overwhelming and reminded
them to just take all the advice they get with a grain of salt, because the
truth is, ultimately they will have to figure most of it out on their own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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One example I did give (in much less detail than I’m about
to give you), went back to when I was pregnant with Savannah, who is my first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Ex and I were just a few weeks away from
her delivery and were on our way home from our birthing class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lived in Chicago at the time and the drive
from Lake Forest (where I had her) to our apartment was quite long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, I don’t remember how it came up, but
somehow a discussion began about where Savannah would sleep after she was
born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our chat soon turned to an
argument as he informed me that she was going to sleep in her own bed in our
second bedroom/office when she was a week old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I started to cry, the idea of my baby sleeping in an office all by
herself was just too much for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
all, she was used to being with her momma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When we got back to our apartment I went out to this gazebo and just
cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t imagine myself being
separated from her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tabled the
discussion and hoped that my Ex would change his mind, although he was
insistent he wouldn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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On May 5<sup>th</sup>, after getting pulled over by the
police twice as we raced to the hospital, our first child and first daughter
was born bright and early and full of sunshine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will never forget the love that flooded me and to this day the thought
of her birth still brings tears of happiness to my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our lives would never be the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I remember the day we brought her home, I was anxious at the
idea that I was responsible for this tiny little person and terrified that I
wouldn’t do a good job being her mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was perfect and immediately the best thing that had ever happened to
me, I was head of heels in love.
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As I was leaving, one of the nurses gave me her direct line
and told me to call her if I had any issues, I took the number gratefully. Several sleepless nights later I
took her up on her promise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Savannah
wasn’t sleeping in her bed (a pack-n-play set up in our room.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d nurse and fall asleep, but as soon as
I’d move her, she’d wake up and start screaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told the nurse that I was exhausted, but
to hear her cry was heart wrenching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then she taught me the best trick ever, <a href="http://www.llli.org/faq/positioning.html">side lying nursing</a> (see <a href="http://www.llli.org/faq/positioning.html">link</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">) </span>She instructed me how to lay down, my arm in
such a way to prevent me from rolling on her and breastfeed her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">(One bit of advice is to put a changing
pad under both of you to catch breast milk. This way you don't have to
change all your sheets or sleep in a wet spot.) </span> </span> </div>
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Anyway, I tried it as we were on the phone and it
worked!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a miracle and from that
point on, both of us slept peacefully, nestled together like two pieces of a
puzzle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Needless to say the whole
apartment slept better and several weeks later she wasn’t sleeping in the other
room, but right beside me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time
she was about three months and sleeping longer stretches, she moved to her
porta crib, still located in our room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When she was about five months old we moved into a house, it was only then that she did
sleep part of her night in a crib in her very own room. </div>
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The lesson from this story is that until that baby is in
your arms; don’t set your parenting rules in stone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flexibility is a must.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’ll save you and your partner a lot of grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll never love anything like your
children, you just won’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even to this
day when my now not-so-little-ones leave to fly to their dad’s, I feel that same
panic, heartbreak and sadness that I felt that day out in
the gazebo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that would be
another lesson that I will preach over and over again, no matter how old they
are, your babies are always your babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIHDUSRP7Gq3_iJZpGSYhpSEEhpKROS59W5R0oMSc823t9N0IG9Ca8065lDhGDI8wJOyyk4iCf5JqxrKmsH7TN9MFP329gZsfVHZhW6hvh4rOTM_RianTEPdOggeBQffUcn2alb20asZ54/s1600/DSC_0506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIHDUSRP7Gq3_iJZpGSYhpSEEhpKROS59W5R0oMSc823t9N0IG9Ca8065lDhGDI8wJOyyk4iCf5JqxrKmsH7TN9MFP329gZsfVHZhW6hvh4rOTM_RianTEPdOggeBQffUcn2alb20asZ54/s1600/DSC_0506.JPG" height="228" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My "little" Savannah now. </td></tr>
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Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-53789772601366448272014-02-08T19:52:00.000-08:002014-02-08T19:52:56.556-08:00Beautifully Sad Secrets<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7LkdFxWCHHOPXKYxffflsMC2y-BHsbk0iqK_oiykfOnPpSNM98f4Y8eEeUg9ttf7vElUvJtq3cn3tbscJClPCL6TOLBvHwKp44H2Aq0r7FijFBt4B-hW2FSo70oki0-OUDmcSkD3m-Mz/s1600/DSC_0776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7LkdFxWCHHOPXKYxffflsMC2y-BHsbk0iqK_oiykfOnPpSNM98f4Y8eEeUg9ttf7vElUvJtq3cn3tbscJClPCL6TOLBvHwKp44H2Aq0r7FijFBt4B-hW2FSo70oki0-OUDmcSkD3m-Mz/s1600/DSC_0776.JPG" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">What is the conversation between two broken souls?</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Even if we heard every word,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">the meaning would still be illusive.*</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have been missing from writing, but not do to lack of life moments. When I fall off the writing wagon I get frustrated with myself. Especially when things are happening that I want to hold onto with words. Since I last wrote, my husband and I shared a quiet, yet sweet Christmas Eve with family and friends and our littlest Max. Christmas morning was bittersweet because it lacked our five oldest, yet was filled with the magic of Santa Claus. Max didn't quite understand at first that all the presents were his, and insisted on distributing them to his siblings and us. This warmed our hearts that he wanted to do such a thing. My husband and I stole away Christmas night to Vegas for a few days, putting Christmas on hold until the twenty ninth when we were able to have all six of our babies under one roof. The "quiet" time together was wonderful. <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/AVvXsEhc-nwQByYoFbtJoj4n6hycRED8qtGIxZg5Ef6Xf_c3-IAdJSyQ09d-Q8go2yCYWMYBGV2p1iCjcvhrG3tsKMgyjBnaB84dU83TdeXasz_UnNAce3BQ97BhMJz_iDGtDaQbdzsMXxan_KOK/s1600/DSC_0326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc-nwQByYoFbtJoj4n6hycRED8qtGIxZg5Ef6Xf_c3-IAdJSyQ09d-Q8go2yCYWMYBGV2p1iCjcvhrG3tsKMgyjBnaB84dU83TdeXasz_UnNAce3BQ97BhMJz_iDGtDaQbdzsMXxan_KOK/s1600/DSC_0326.JPG" height="262" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Waves December 30th 2013</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMwASouC22NXk5jr_rHwEHgxRmq8pDNz3nYLYXTijHS3HOBBMtynBruoB4jwxrz7QW3n2GSSdPanHXTO8yCN6rDWFUXXSwva4ZKoeCPHMSus2K7V62xA_2eEdvbZija3lwUWrRVVMHB-Q/s1600/DSC_0773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMwASouC22NXk5jr_rHwEHgxRmq8pDNz3nYLYXTijHS3HOBBMtynBruoB4jwxrz7QW3n2GSSdPanHXTO8yCN6rDWFUXXSwva4ZKoeCPHMSus2K7V62xA_2eEdvbZija3lwUWrRVVMHB-Q/s1600/DSC_0773.JPG" height="142" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZqRE2Zj45-6jA2Cgh7XNZSA9UNuYNorur7CgMUiY3d6St_CEoGuq-UWgE8tEteLfBUTdKovWcM3jgeHQru_FVMM0xgSQ3gBqadG2YA-tmqsAXHhIt0EqFKEvSDrFa6_Op2QS3l_50Kfr/s1600/DSC_0899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZqRE2Zj45-6jA2Cgh7XNZSA9UNuYNorur7CgMUiY3d6St_CEoGuq-UWgE8tEteLfBUTdKovWcM3jgeHQru_FVMM0xgSQ3gBqadG2YA-tmqsAXHhIt0EqFKEvSDrFa6_Op2QS3l_50Kfr/s1600/DSC_0899.JPG" height="142" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The visit with all of the littles was like medicine to the soul. The ability to tuck them in and kiss them goodnight was probably my favorite of all. It allowed me to quietly let them know how very much they mean to me and how desperately I miss them when they are gone. We had a blast at Wild Waves, our New Year's Eve Blast and in Seattle (a few times). Just hearing all their voices through the house was like heaven. I was blessed by mother nature and was able to keep Savannah and Sam three extra days. We took advantage of this (and grandma and papa's kindness to keep Max) and took another day trip into the city. I called it a photography adventure, where I captured my two oldest at a variety of locations. </span></span>At the end of the day we got caught in a monsoon and as we ran through the rain, I'm sure all of Seattle could hear us laughing and screaming. I loved it.</div>
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Just before we went home, we stopped at a pier and I captured a few more photos. They are of Savannah, the city and the waterfront. Seattle has won my heart and become the home I have searched much of my life for. To capture my first born in my beloved hometown was priceless.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWEMQgBdku2lKUlpSGWnGJAHmQkcrLyNdOyhNH58-8W9rs6s2MODe0Ekhz8EDJWlTI3A53F9jof3ZBU8fcH9tj-y_rdL4MuL0r8rGszbZBuA52X5uyNuMDj7AOytiz-Dbvl8zUZHjLSW28/s1600/DSC_0996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWEMQgBdku2lKUlpSGWnGJAHmQkcrLyNdOyhNH58-8W9rs6s2MODe0Ekhz8EDJWlTI3A53F9jof3ZBU8fcH9tj-y_rdL4MuL0r8rGszbZBuA52X5uyNuMDj7AOytiz-Dbvl8zUZHjLSW28/s1600/DSC_0996.JPG" height="320" width="400" /></a></div>
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*I love the picture of Savannah and Sam under the umbrella. It portrays my life perfectly. The umbrella is in focus and represents the happiness in my life that I share openly... my babies, my husband, my family and friends, my wonderful home and my beloved Seahawks (who won the Super Bowl in case you didn't know.) However the unfocused portion is how my quote under the photograph came to me while looking at it for the first time. It might be a photo you'd erase because it's out of focus, but it's meant to be that way. We're not meant to see the emotion, hear the conversation that is going on. The nighttime tears that are shed and the desperate truths that are told. It's a secret that is carried by those who have felt true heartache and even truer love. I've poured out my heart here many times trying to express the feeling of being away from my babies, but ultimately it is so deep, so intense, so personal, that I'll never be able to clearly explain it. And maybe that's okay, maybe that's the way it's meant to be. </div>
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Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-53488466473124339622013-12-20T15:07:00.001-08:002013-12-20T15:18:28.451-08:00Don't cry mom...Last night when we were putting the girls to bed, Sage said to me, "don't cry tomorrow mom." Upon hearing this, my husband laughed out loud and told Sage that he'd buy her a car if I didn't. My neighbor wanted in on the deal, and he was so confident, he agreed.<div><br></div><div>Neither are getting a car. I didn't cry, I blubbered.</div><div><br></div><div>Asking me not to feel sad when I put any of my babies on a plane is like asking me not to breath. My heart literally feels like it's breaking. I sit here, waiting for their plane to take off and wipe the tears away, willing to be anywhere else and wishing they were there with me. </div><div><br></div><div>When my husband left this morning, he kissed me goodbye and reminded me that I had to take this journey today in order to get all my babies home next Sunday, the 29th. I tried to think that way today, but when the attendant takes them from me and I have to watch them disappear... I can't help but to feel heartache, I'm stuck in that moment.</div><div><br></div><div>Today, for the second year in a row, the girls had a two hour delay which led them to missing school and allowed some extra time with me. I had initially intended them to go, but was grateful for the excuse to keep them home. After all, no point in going just for an hour. So, I just enjoyed their presence and tried to forget about this afternoon. </div><div><br></div><div>Now, As I wait for them to take off, I pray for their safe return and will them to know how much I love them. My message to you my dear readers, is to hug your loved ones close this Christmas. Forget about the presents and stress of buying the right gift... A child in your lap or a sweetheart in your arms is all you need. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMopesIqjWit6rErBcrfrDLuntGBPaa9bjkRrVltbelG7dWE2wGxufcYfu-swZYMwFC02nocWoo83XNwbGcsBnnTOxWS_GK9Qjjhw2nxiz_oAt1zSCNPOSw34RnRuJxWXLzds-0zYmApfq/s640/blogger-image-45033272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMopesIqjWit6rErBcrfrDLuntGBPaa9bjkRrVltbelG7dWE2wGxufcYfu-swZYMwFC02nocWoo83XNwbGcsBnnTOxWS_GK9Qjjhw2nxiz_oAt1zSCNPOSw34RnRuJxWXLzds-0zYmApfq/s640/blogger-image-45033272.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Merry Christmas my sweeties... Hug each other for me and I'll see all four of you soon! And remember, I love you all to the moon and stars and back...</div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-34410831762511352532013-11-24T12:44:00.002-08:002013-11-24T12:46:29.562-08:00My sweet Sam<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEhs2Y6__Pr_0vb2ge5n9Ks1v9KYZCNh5ECMODcMTmEvaDp29jvXG-FtQINhauLS9PbdGr7YW6I5RPQDJdWD-GYdAc_WeoyZiQjjRfwuVLZaXmkE7QSeuSPI188EH0OfWAWio5X46BYUzZ/s1600/IMG_4592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEhs2Y6__Pr_0vb2ge5n9Ks1v9KYZCNh5ECMODcMTmEvaDp29jvXG-FtQINhauLS9PbdGr7YW6I5RPQDJdWD-GYdAc_WeoyZiQjjRfwuVLZaXmkE7QSeuSPI188EH0OfWAWio5X46BYUzZ/s320/IMG_4592.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken February 10, 2005</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpG2rI4I8qnw6rWjHacdFmhfDy9eQpTXLBMGW8mTacb_E4TIHqR7X6-0TOtUvOhyphenhyphens44tCTHSbwtl1JlXcX-B9RBAKszHtB9NMzpBNjzI0lRAbWkbE1HlRxXbu-DRS3ulr87_zzkvJBvJL/s1600/IMG_4593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpG2rI4I8qnw6rWjHacdFmhfDy9eQpTXLBMGW8mTacb_E4TIHqR7X6-0TOtUvOhyphenhyphens44tCTHSbwtl1JlXcX-B9RBAKszHtB9NMzpBNjzI0lRAbWkbE1HlRxXbu-DRS3ulr87_zzkvJBvJL/s200/IMG_4593.JPG" width="200" /></a>Love. These two photos are priceless to me. I love how peaceful both Sam and Saxton look, sleeping like babies. They remind me of all the times I found one of my little ones out of their bed and snuggled up with a sibling. For some reason they woke up scared or lost and somehow found themselves searching for a safe place to sleep, to find comfort in another. They also remind me of what a sweet boy I have. My little Sam was a doll baby from the moment he was born. This kind, soft soul with a heart of gold. When I was pregnant with Sage he was just one, but already had the notion to treat me with gentleness and loved to kiss and talk to my tummy. Sam was three when Saxton was born and just as excited, the smile on his face when he saw his new baby sister is an image i'll never forget. He's an amazing brother and I'm so blessed to have him as my first born son. I love you Bubbie, to the moon and stars and back!Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-75119968743715116532013-11-24T11:28:00.000-08:002013-11-24T11:28:32.084-08:00You are beautiful inside and out!Despite many people thinking otherwise, I wasn't surprised, but instead truly grateful to find out my first baby was going to be a little girl. It was January 1998 and my Ex and I were in Indianapolis having our first ultrasound. Shortly after the tech gave us the good news, she saw something that obviously upset her. She sent us to the waiting room and even though we thought we were done, we were called back for the Doctor to have another look. With a long face, the doctor informed us that my cervix might already be shortening and I might go into premature labor. I was only 21 weeks or so and it was way too early.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWbPQy-t3YRo8IUUxEB3AurR0P8yOZ-xuiJ3dZmmIhyphenhyphenxgpNFaYBxg6XnLvujQnsXxM4m_2JOhlUqjBPbhaNpwt6xyyGYoMM3jBjMe0Ls23QsXT3WtO4d37CSdbMoQMCnzPa3SNI23zUXl/s1600/IMG_4471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWbPQy-t3YRo8IUUxEB3AurR0P8yOZ-xuiJ3dZmmIhyphenhyphenxgpNFaYBxg6XnLvujQnsXxM4m_2JOhlUqjBPbhaNpwt6xyyGYoMM3jBjMe0Ls23QsXT3WtO4d37CSdbMoQMCnzPa3SNI23zUXl/s200/IMG_4471.JPG" width="133" /></a><br />
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I remember going home in tears with a heavy heart and an appointment the next day at the hospital for a high definition ultra sound. Never will I forget the sick feeling in my stomach and the worry that enveloped me that I might lose my baby. After all, my prayers had been answered and she was otherwise healthy and beautiful.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhqjD_4ascW-H3clddahbbaYjTrHWwsf5TFQEB3RSJq5-lGpszF7tz4k7BKgQYSvEIY8yTN4RSF3Q1tDOeyJSuB8xNI3G8KoyDyITEeOL1o_3FAF_FIaeA2BdOPB8F5VJ8O9KNTpmYh-Z/s1600/1922_1080115999354_103_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhqjD_4ascW-H3clddahbbaYjTrHWwsf5TFQEB3RSJq5-lGpszF7tz4k7BKgQYSvEIY8yTN4RSF3Q1tDOeyJSuB8xNI3G8KoyDyITEeOL1o_3FAF_FIaeA2BdOPB8F5VJ8O9KNTpmYh-Z/s200/1922_1080115999354_103_n.jpg" width="150" /></a>The next day I drove by myself to the hospital and after getting undressed, had to lay in this huge, cold room. I remember how sterile it seemed and how scared I felt. However, just minutes later the new tech informed me that there must have been some mistake, that everything looked fine and that my tiny one would be okay. I cried again, but this time they were tears of joy. I smiled the whole way home. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWnPniBHQQejNAryLH4dulLx-1zYzbVjbawkvhYSvHOO-xAC0AcgROgYlhX56IE0iPXPqcwaCqESSGsusOBBhhkkM9oxJG9DrqfnKMVKgspSmUfbz5gAlPBImc_JX-h4O7ldxlsK1KGUk0/s1600/DSC_1011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWnPniBHQQejNAryLH4dulLx-1zYzbVjbawkvhYSvHOO-xAC0AcgROgYlhX56IE0iPXPqcwaCqESSGsusOBBhhkkM9oxJG9DrqfnKMVKgspSmUfbz5gAlPBImc_JX-h4O7ldxlsK1KGUk0/s320/DSC_1011.JPG" width="320" /></a>Now she is almost grown, a beautiful fifteen year old with a sunshine smile that could light up even the darkest room. I can't imagine my life without her. She has been my little co-pilot, riding along a sometimes very treacherous journey with me. She's this gorgeous sprite and I often can't believe that she is mine. How could I be so lucky to have created something so spectacular, a true gift from God.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlJCqqc3ZSKzpAKp9HoqBkbCVppqyRPHUUZ-jzIhCM0b3exCwfprtIl_WJdN_E3DPTmeYH9fAzplMMtoP3aiio1quQn3gG7j-eJNXqcA5ykUgvA6IM_UTdJbdzW7Nb3o1-Jdcc_xqEjsBJ/s1600/DSC_1099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlJCqqc3ZSKzpAKp9HoqBkbCVppqyRPHUUZ-jzIhCM0b3exCwfprtIl_WJdN_E3DPTmeYH9fAzplMMtoP3aiio1quQn3gG7j-eJNXqcA5ykUgvA6IM_UTdJbdzW7Nb3o1-Jdcc_xqEjsBJ/s320/DSC_1099.jpg" width="228" /></a><br />
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Life is hard, growing up is never easy. The judgement that we sometimes inflict on ourselves is often ten times worse than what anyone else could do. As a parent, if I can give anything to my children, it would be the knowledge that they are all perfectly made and special because of their individual gifts, personalities and beauty. You can always compare yourself to others, tell yourself that they are prettier than you, smarter than you, ect... That's not allowed, because they are not you, never could they be you, nor give to the world all the sparkle that only you can give, the love only you can show. You are a treasure.<br />
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My little Savannah, you have no idea how wonderful you are, how I miss you when you are gone and pray everyday for your brightness to return. You are beautiful, inside and out. I love you to the moon and stars and back!<br />
Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-85875391719664299152013-11-20T20:59:00.001-08:002013-11-20T23:10:25.425-08:00Solo Swimming in the Big Pool.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDNZoqD5iEauq0Rj5oV7uJE4cwwFsUOIrVxxs3DTXyn4P9V4JvRcZiPPgvJ1DSg9VsAsmqkwnVJhoYJJcNp9lhTbeUdNvyyfRGC_8GxevvABZzlKlALHE_Y4QSmNA2KrwKOWo8fy7R8PN/s640/blogger-image--62402964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDNZoqD5iEauq0Rj5oV7uJE4cwwFsUOIrVxxs3DTXyn4P9V4JvRcZiPPgvJ1DSg9VsAsmqkwnVJhoYJJcNp9lhTbeUdNvyyfRGC_8GxevvABZzlKlALHE_Y4QSmNA2KrwKOWo8fy7R8PN/s640/blogger-image--62402964.jpg"></a></div>A week ago my little Max took a literal leap away from me and into the big pool all by himself. Yes, there was an instructor catching him, but hopefully you get my point. As I stood watching him in his very first Super Pike swimming class (he tested right out of Pike, my little fish) I was overwhelmed with emotion. I looked beyond him and saw the parent-child class that we had been in just a few weeks earlier and I couldn't believe how time has flown by. Weeks pass like days and my littlest one, after just under three years of lessons with mom, has now flown the aquatic nest. <div><br></div><div>I expected tears when I left him with his teacher and I got them, not from him, he was all smiles, no they came from me. At first I was surprised as the almost subconscious emotions caused my eyes to water and then spill over my cheeks. However I soon realized, that this is was the faithful and all too familiar feeling of letting go. Flashes of the past began to cross my mind; first days of pre-school and then kindergarten that have morphed into sobbing in an airport terminal. There is nothing quite like the heartbreak of letting your babies go. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm confident the ensuing good-byes won't get any easier, time and experience has proven as much. None the less, today during swimming when Max's eyes met mine, as his smile grew bigger and he waved a big ol' wave, I realized something... That the sweet moments that lead up to those emotional cross-roads and the love that then is carried beyond them, is what makes this crazy life all worth while. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-44594607545387368172013-11-12T22:52:00.001-08:002013-11-12T22:52:47.638-08:00Life isn't always how you perceive it.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWo3acvLLDyQmsWMiAKw6hC9eR8kWlQLbVk1IrxxXhZCBczEVcMUVJb5HaBstB5u0Y0JBMK9boq9jbutKoiBY71AevOMt_vLYBNjB5zruRJIHJlRlqGhklVa3X9F7JQErD0Wgl4h_Kacx/s640/blogger-image--1215113566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWo3acvLLDyQmsWMiAKw6hC9eR8kWlQLbVk1IrxxXhZCBczEVcMUVJb5HaBstB5u0Y0JBMK9boq9jbutKoiBY71AevOMt_vLYBNjB5zruRJIHJlRlqGhklVa3X9F7JQErD0Wgl4h_Kacx/s640/blogger-image--1215113566.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Life isn't how you perceive it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A puddle formed by the rain in a muddy field can allow for a perfect reflection of a gorgeous sunset. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A walk and a three year old's bike ride can turn into a photo shoot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1e0DnHip8JhDlA_juI4-ywy-3uo-GtI-XBsnQj6tDSLmk0eo6VX3bIfpLLexxRsotLCdwWFIGlXXZ0wgeTUszqrAv6Fkl6HlQVfL5pTgtgk6n4DXEviOPCYLSsXSvH7FpqC3B2kuvbo_/s640/blogger-image-1002673568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1e0DnHip8JhDlA_juI4-ywy-3uo-GtI-XBsnQj6tDSLmk0eo6VX3bIfpLLexxRsotLCdwWFIGlXXZ0wgeTUszqrAv6Fkl6HlQVfL5pTgtgk6n4DXEviOPCYLSsXSvH7FpqC3B2kuvbo_/s640/blogger-image-1002673568.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All of the ugliness can be tossed aside allowing only the perfection of nature's art to remain. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjUWflNvhzMSJefwrM0787NP3BKfDrzaCA9kLkjZQLxSEF_wfeBYYW29j3wDp0NzjZNckzIw7w9JIR5NNlsaPTWkOGO0dy9vfUC-EyegaMchiN7Kfe7bRzWdG2vgOK59ydx1r-CXPNIXB/s640/blogger-image-628350554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjUWflNvhzMSJefwrM0787NP3BKfDrzaCA9kLkjZQLxSEF_wfeBYYW29j3wDp0NzjZNckzIw7w9JIR5NNlsaPTWkOGO0dy9vfUC-EyegaMchiN7Kfe7bRzWdG2vgOK59ydx1r-CXPNIXB/s640/blogger-image-628350554.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">After all, If I can teach my children anything, it is to see beauty in even the muddiest of situations.</span></div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3185427393987422521.post-25540289643590241302013-11-04T17:28:00.001-08:002013-11-04T22:33:37.641-08:00Our little, big Max.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJD7iC9KSCSALatOYVtMsZjqLuOdjvGRWoDa5lpLXO1RXn9qtsxs9RJ97fRxqVDJqXD49VTog5utVl6aUrOf8iVG05_kH-Ur1O-wj5xMwT1o3miBEBbCq2JEzy-12APEt6exra_3ipW86/s640/blogger-image-849987032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJD7iC9KSCSALatOYVtMsZjqLuOdjvGRWoDa5lpLXO1RXn9qtsxs9RJ97fRxqVDJqXD49VTog5utVl6aUrOf8iVG05_kH-Ur1O-wj5xMwT1o3miBEBbCq2JEzy-12APEt6exra_3ipW86/s640/blogger-image-849987032.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Whoever knew the nearly proper pronounciation of the word elephant would make the kids and I so sad today. Max can say "el-phant" versus "ela-fa-nent." He even properly said truck... versus the explicative version he's only ever said before. As the kids quizzed him on other words, we all realized that our little Max is growing up. <div><br></div><div>Today I signed him up for big boy swim lessons. After almost three years of parent child classes I'm sad to be seeing my little guy moving on. But he was ready, proudly swimming the whole length of the pool by himself last Wednesday, with only the aid of a puddle hopper. Way to go Max!</div><div><br></div><div>Tonight after soccer, Sage was telling me how she was sad about her baby brother becoming a big boy. When we arrived home, she raced upstairs to see if he was awake. He was in bed, but not sleeping, so she snuck in his room. We could hear the two of them giggling, sharing little secrets all their own. </div><div><br></div><div>A little later, after she headed to bed and he called for me, I had my own snuggle time. I rocked and sang him a few lullabies, including "sister Savannah's song." Yes, he might be growing up, but like his older siblings, he'll always be my baby. </div><div><br></div><div>Good-night to all my babies. I love you to the moon and stars and back. </div>Lisa Richardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05085560981588273075noreply@blogger.com0