tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59989460407873448782024-03-13T17:39:10.338-07:00The Oakey FamilyAllihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.comBlogger138125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-65623181081022804092013-06-23T19:52:00.001-07:002013-06-23T19:52:33.094-07:00These cuties... <p>These cuties make me all fuzzy and warm inside. I'm so grateful to be their mama. </p>
<p>Maddux loves his baby sister. He calls her sweetie all of the time. "Don't worry, Sweetie, I will be right back, Sweetie." He also tackles her ... She doesn't like that much. </p>
<p>My Macy Gracie is turning into quite the passionate little peanut. She knows what she wants and she let's everyone know it. She's a mama's girl and crawls to wherever I am. </p>
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Oh my Macy, you light up the room. Your daddy continues to give you nicknames and you respond to most of them. You answer to Macy Mace, Moo Moo, May May, Macy Gracie, Gracie Grace, Sister, and Munchkin. You wake up very happy. When I pick you up from your crib you kick your legs and arch your back in excitement. When we enter the living room you look around until you spot your daddy or your brother. </div>
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You're still in size three diapers. You have the cutest tan lines on your chunky thighs. You will take any binkie available for the most part {unlike your picky brother}. You sleep from 7:00-6:30 or 7:30, eat, then sleep until 9:00 {month 9 you slept until 5:30, not 6:30}. You love to eat; I'm pretty sure you could be eating more solids, but you have a paranoid mother. You roll, roll, roll. Still no crawling, but girl, how you roll! You can push yourself into a sitting position. Your first tooth made its grand debut just a few days ago. </div>
Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-26126431540801312242013-05-29T08:25:00.001-07:002013-05-29T08:25:46.618-07:00Maddux Turns FourWell my little Maddux, you have graced this world with your presence for four entire years now. I can't believe it. I remember bringing you home from the hospital. I loved you more than I knew possible, but I had no idea what to do with you. We learned how to be a family together.... <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">You taught me how to be a mama</span></b>.... I would sneak into your room every night, and if you were asleep, I'd pick you up and rock you. I still come into your room every night, but now you're too big to pick up without waking. So I sit there and stare at your perfect, little face. I brush your hair with my fingers and wonder how you got so big so fast. You still have so much to learn from this cruel world. How do I create an environment where you can learn life's important lessons with the least amount of growing pains?<br />
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Your daddy and I love you so much. You have been a blessing beyond measure. We truly thank our God for you every single day. </div>
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Birthday festivities began in the morning. You awoke to balloons galore. You loved running through them and drawing faces on them. You wanted crackers for breakfast so that's what you got! You were pretty happy that I said yes to your request. We gave you one present every few hours throughout the day. You would light up when I would come from the room singing 'Happy Birthday' because you knew that was your cue to opening a new present. </div>
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You had friends over to swim in the pool and sing to you. You felt like a pretty big deal -- and you are. My little world truly revolves around you and your little sister and I wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you for making me a mama for the last four years. I love you, spokie. </div>
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<br />Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-41566069811423532202013-05-03T19:10:00.001-07:002013-05-03T19:10:41.003-07:00Beach Date<p>Confession. I get tired as a mom. Sometimes I get caught up in routine and question what it is I love and adore about being a mom. The making of breakfast, snacks, lunch, second lunch, dinner? Laundry? Wiping bums, changing diapers, cleaning spills and spit up?? </p>
<p>My wise husband told me to lay the baby down for a nap and take Maddux to the beach--just the two of us. It made me realize how much I missed my Maddux. My little silly, sweet, curious baby boy. I realized I'd been on auto-pilot driving toward nannyhood instead of being engaged in motherhood. I'm thankful for the reminder. Here's to remembering this tomorrow. </p>
<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJiDsSb-9czGwR8_IjViLInCEnIy5WSd7SBsrfK1hoYC2dIRC1YYow9uEa6e1nU1_FNZCzIMyAccLEfyCcnEZ1Rwxho13TXLWuOramyfQvxwWyCmszIukC0VX4anqU5cj8MyheKn2mwo/s1600/IMG_20130424_114739.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWJiDsSb-9czGwR8_IjViLInCEnIy5WSd7SBsrfK1hoYC2dIRC1YYow9uEa6e1nU1_FNZCzIMyAccLEfyCcnEZ1Rwxho13TXLWuOramyfQvxwWyCmszIukC0VX4anqU5cj8MyheKn2mwo/s400/IMG_20130424_114739.jpg' /> </a> </div>Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-42699652572185977012013-04-23T18:04:00.001-07:002013-04-23T18:04:47.964-07:00Prophets
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Goudy Old Style'; font-size: 17px; line-height: 25px;"><b>I was asked to speak last Sunday on the Restoration. The talks given the previous week were also given on the restoration so I struggled with knowing what to speak on. As I was making dinner, I started thinking of the restoration as individual components rather than as a whole. The Lord then flooded my mind with past experiences that involved the gospel. Tears found their way down my cheeks as I realized how integral the gospel has been in my life. The gospel is not just one section of my identity -- <i>it is</i> who I am. It floods every aspect of me. Every thought I have and every decision I make stems from some portion of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I began to ponder on the restoration of prophets. The Lord spoke to His people in the bible through prophets like Moses, Isaiah, Peter and Paul. What a blessing it is that we have prophets who speak to God in our day. I thought on this for awhile when this past experience came back to my mind...</b></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">President Hinckley was the prophet of my
youth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a dear love for him
as I’m sure many of you do. It was under the duration of his prophetic calling
that I truly became rooted in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Following his death,
President Thomas S. Monson was called to be the president of the Church. My
grandma lives in Holloday, Utah and happens to be in the prophet’s ward. I was
in town visiting her shortly after President Monson became the prophet. The
prophet travels often and attends his home ward sporadically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weekend I was visiting happened to
be a weekend he would be attending. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat in the chapel listening to the prelude music feeling a
little jittery. I knew I was going to be in the presence of the prophet and I
was nervous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had such a love for
President Hinckley and I was worried I would feel differently toward President
Monson. I was sitting in the front corner pew of the chapel when suddenly the
prelude music stopped and everyone stood. Butterflies swarmed my stomach as I
heard the organist start to play ‘We Thank Thee Oh God For a Prophet.” I turned
my head toward the door right as he was wal</span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">king in. As he walked to the front
of the chapel I could feel a permeating wave of warmth emanate from him and
ripple out toward the entire congregation. I could feel of his prophetic
calling and the mantel which he bore. I can still feel it as I recount this experience. </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In the Gospel of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints we believe that God speaks to living prophets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can not deny and testify of this truth... and a glorious truth it is. </span></b></div>
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I've always been frustrated with myself when it comes to missionary work. I feel such a desire to serve to Lord through being a missionary. However, I never see any results. I know I shouldn't be frustrated -- I'm planting seeds, yada yada. I know. I need to shift my paradigm.<br />
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A thought hit me during a particular general conference address on missionary work. I have never prayed for missionary experiences. <i>I've</i> sought them out. <i>I've</i> shared the gospel when opportunities arrived. <i>I've</i> tried to be a missionary, but <i>I've</i> never petitioned <i>the Lord</i> for help. How prideful am I??<br />
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So, I've been praying. Every night I ask the Lord to help me be a missionary; I ask Him to lead me to the people whose hearts are prepared for the Gospel of Jesus Christ; I ask Him to help me be a missionary through being kind, thoughtful and by giving service.<br />
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Two days later. <i>Two days</i>.<br />
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I'm at the park with Maddux. Maddux thinks everyone is his friend and quickly gravitated toward the sweetest two-year-old named Liam. Liam was there with his 'Poppy,' his grandpa. I soon found out Poppy watches Liam during the day and works as a security guard at Ave Maria, a local Law School. Poppy {whose real name is Gary} has been experiencing a rough year as his wife's parents and his own have past away within a short time of each other. Now that mortality is a reality, he is glad he has this time to spend with Liam, but it is tiring and difficult being Mr. Mom. I understand. I expressed my fascination with the connection between parents and children. Yes, it's tiring, difficult and exhausting, but so worth it. How is it that one tiny smile or giggle can turn a frustrating day {most of the time because of a particular child} into a good day in seconds? In our faith, I said, we believe families are eternal. There is a connection, a divine connection.<br />
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The conversation ebbed and flowed and we found ourselves talking about death and the pain it causes. I told him about my dad. He's been diagnosed with color cancer which has brought the mortality reality up-front and center for the last few years. Some people view religion as a crutch. They think religion is for the weak. But, I told him, once you feel the Holy Spirit testifying of the reality of the resurrection and the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ, there is no denying it.<br />
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The kids were getting hungry so we said our good-byes. I told him if he ever needed a spiritual boost he needed to call the Mormon Missionaries {I didn't have any pass-along cards with me!}. He said he would and he knew a few Mormons at the law school where he works {which are in my ward so yes, I'll be talking to them}.<br />
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This conversation was so casual and easy. I wasn't nervous to talk to him about the church and Jesus Christ. It just happened. First, <i>I know this experienced occurred because of the Lord</i>. However, I was curious as to why the conversation was so natural and un-nerving. As I was pondering why it was this way it occurred to me it's because this doctrine is a part of me. There are some doctrines and principles in the church I believe in because I know the church is true. However, there are some that are intensely ingrained into my soul because of the personal experiences I've had with them. My dad's health has brought a deeper understanding and sense of gratitude for the doctrine of the atonement and resurrection. I started crying in the car. I feel so guilty that I'm <i>benefiting</i> from my dad's oppressive, daunting, cruel trial. It's because of the hard road he's walking that I could comfortably testify of the resurrection.<br />
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As these thoughts passed through my mind I felt a distinct prompting to call my dad and tell him this. He picked up the phone and I quickly told him of my experience. I let him know {through sobs} of the small amount of good that has come from the fiery darts being sent his way. He was quiet, and then said, "Let me add to your testimony. Today is Tuesday and Tuesday's are hard after chemo weekends. I have little energy. This morning as I sat in my car driving to work I petitioned the Lord. I told him I had no energy, and I needed Him to give me a little more. Just as I closed my prayer, you called. What you have told me has given me the energy I need to get through my day."<br />
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The Lord is so mindful of each one of us. There's no denying it.<br />
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#Ask<i>Him</i>ForHelpAllihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-63381334088138066342013-04-08T06:43:00.001-07:002013-04-08T06:44:35.510-07:00Funny boyI was looking for some basketball shorts for Maddux at Walmart. He's obsessed with basketball shorts these days. I was sifting through the selection of shorts as I casually turned around and glanced at Maddux. I couldn't stop laughing. He took a 12 month shirt off the rack and did his best to squeeze into it. What a goof ball. A cute goof ball. <br />
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Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-28146066046455815822013-04-06T18:30:00.000-07:002013-04-08T06:46:07.918-07:00Dreams -- no, not aspirations. Dreams in the literal sense. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I hate dreaming. I hate it. Almost every nightly prayer of mine includes a petition to the Lord for no dreams. My dreams are always horrible and terrifying. I even cut CSI and Law & Order out of my life thinking they were the culprits of my horrible, nightly subconscious. Nope. <br />
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In the last two weeks I have have five separate dreams that Makay has died. I awake in the middle of the night in a panic; full of the emotions I endured in the dream. I then lay awake pondering scenarios and making my fears worse. How would I provide for my kids? How would I pay off our loans? Would my current degree be enough to provide? Would I need more schooling? Who would wrestle with, play with and nurture my children while I was slaving away making minimum wage to put food in their tummies? Would I even have enough money to get to family?<br />
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My first dream in the sequence of horribleness was about the knowledge I had of the time I had left with him which, ironically, was two weeks. <i>I dreamt I only had two weeks left with him.</i> My best friend. My husband. The daddy of my munchkins. I woke up in a panic, glad to see him sleeping next to me. I inched my way over to him and under his arm. I placed my head on his chest and found comfort in the rhythmic beating I could hear.<br />
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As much as I truly despise these wicked dreams, they have humbled me. I found my greatest source of pain didn't come from missing what Makay does {ie providing for our family, being the best daddy ever, etc}, though those things weighed heavily on me. What pained me the most was the fact that my heart died in these dreams; my heart died with him. I have realized how much he is a part of me. I have a connection with him that I share with no one else and it's not just because we have things in common and laugh at the same jokes. It's like our souls have gradually been fused together over the past 6.5 years. {{I can't believe he's only been apart of my life for that short period of time}}. I didn't even realize it was happening. I have a new understanding of what it means to 'cleave unto' one another and to become one.<br />
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I love him. We argue and bicker. We get on each other's nerves. We walk into separate rooms at times. On a few occasions one of us has left the house and gone on a drive just to be away from the other person. Despite all of this -- or because of it -- we grow closer together. In another 6.5 years I hope to have an even great understanding of the words <i>cleave</i> and <i>one</i>.<br />
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I love my Makay, and I love that he is truly a part of me.<br />
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<br />Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-31606574473484380662013-03-31T19:10:00.000-07:002013-04-08T06:47:21.998-07:00Easter Makay and I decided we would separate our Easter celebrations into two days. Saturday we would focus on Easter baskets, egg hunts, candy, etc and Sunday we would focus on the Resurrection. <div>
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Saturday morning Maddux woke up to his Easter basket -- complete with a baseball bat and basketball shorts. I put Makay in charge of Easter baskets because I'm too cheap. I was just going to get Maddux some peeps and Easter pencils -- lame, I know. He then searched the house for hidden Reeses eggs. Our ward had a special Easter breakfast with an Easter egg hunt for the kids that morning. </div>
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Easter Sunday we had the missionaries, Brantley and Lacie, and another couple from our ward over for dinner. I had a special 'spiritual Easter egg hunt' for the kids. I hid 12 eggs. Each egg had something inside that represented the last week of the Saviors life. Maddux was more interested in opening the egg than listening to the story. Hopefully next year will be better. </div>
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Easter has come to mean more to me the last few years. This past week I've been touched by the great act of the resurrection and what blessings have come to pass because of it. What a glorious moment that must have been when Christ rose that first Easter morning. What was the reunion between Father and Son like? I can only imagine the embrace they shared, the tears they shed, and the joy they felt. I'm so thankful for the blessing of eternal families that was brought to pass because of the resurrection of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. </div>
Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-15640911564537397412013-03-31T18:27:00.002-07:002013-04-08T06:47:32.055-07:008 months<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh, my Macy. You are the apple of my eye. You have entered the most angelic stage. You smile and laugh constantly. I love getting you up after your nap because you wake up ecstatic. In fact, when I lift you out of your crib you kick your legs and squeal.<br />
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My favorite time with you is during your morning feeding. You wake up at 5:30 a.m. to eat. When you're done, you rest your head on my chest and let me snuggle you. This is the only time you allow me to cuddle with you. Unfortunately, you've started sleeping in until 7:00 a.m. -- by this time the sun is shinning through the windows and you're distracted which means no snuggles for mom. </div>
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You're sitting up on your own without my fear of you tipping over and hurting your head. You have no interest in crawling. You love, love, love food. Peas, carrots, pears, sweet potatoes, corn, peaches, raspberries, crackers. You eat anything I give you.<br />
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You went to the beach for the first time this month. It was accompanied by your first sunburn. <br />
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You sure love your brother and you're very tolerant of him. He loves to play with you and thinks you can play harder than you can, but you're patient with him.<br />
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We love you, baby girl.Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-10318331250494172882013-03-15T18:17:00.001-07:002013-03-15T18:17:17.289-07:00Macy Moo, Macy Gracie, Little Good Morning.How we love you. This crazy time of life has taken you through months six and seven of your perfect little existence. You are loved so much.<br />
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<b>Month Six</b>:<br />
- You flew on your first airplane. You did amazing.<br />
- You're semi-interested in solid food.<br />
- You love holding hands, but you're specific. If I put my hand over yours, you remove your hand to place it on mine. Your hand always has to be on top.<br />
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<i>According to Instagram</i></div>
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<b>Month Seven</b>:</div>
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- You roll and roll and roll! You have no interest in crawling, but you sure do love to roll.</div>
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- You can sit for a few seconds. You love to sit and then throw yourself backwards. You think it's funny.</div>
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- Your brother is your biggest fan. You are his shining star.</div>
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- You're finally sleeping well. No more waking at 2:30 a.m. and having to cry yourself to sleep. </div>
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- You sleep from 7:00 p.m. - 6:00 a.m.</div>
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- You love solid food. Sweet potatoes and corn seem to be your favorite.</div>
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- You're definitely a crib sleeper. You will sleep<i> nowhere</i> else. This makes church difficult. </div>
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<i>According to Instagram</i></div>
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Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-70436289376299566332013-02-21T10:19:00.001-08:002013-02-21T10:19:44.145-08:00Seriously in love<p>Wow. I'm not sure it gets any better than these two cuties. I'm so lucky to be their mom. Some days are crazy and I'm tired and I can't wait for daddy to be home and I don't want to make dinner again and and and and... but, today... I'm enjoying today. I'm enjoying the giggles. I'm enjoying the baby talk. I'm enjoying playing tigers and crocodiles. I'm enjoying the snuggles. I'm enjoying the tackles. </p>
<p>Now, here's to remembering this tomorrow. </p>
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Macy was blessed this month. She looked as beautiful as the blessing that was given. My parents, grandma, Sundito family, Dawson, Kinley and Derek were are able to be here.<br />
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Halloween was really fun this year. Maddux was so excited to be Spiderman. He ran around in his costume for weeks. Little Macy was the cutest little bumblebee, and I was a pirate. Makay was a working nurse -- literally.<br />
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Makay's birthday! We worked hard to celebrate him all day long. He woke up to breakfast in bed. He was surprised with presents all day long, and we had the greatest friends of all time over for dinner.<br />
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The Color Run | The Happiest 5K on the Planet! This was the best run e.v.e.r. We were sprayed with different colors of chalk throughout the entire race and then went crazy in a chalk-mosh-pit. I love these girls.Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-65473367547767033402012-12-31T21:58:00.002-08:002013-04-08T06:47:53.157-07:00Macy Moo | Months 4 & 5Well, gorgeous girl, you're getting more beautiful each and every day. You are quick to laugh with your brother and quick to smile with googley eyes at your daddy.<br />
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Month 4<br />
. You have the most adorable chunky thighs accompanied with rolls on your knees. Weighing in at 11 pounds.<br />
. You started interacting with your brother. If he's in the room, you're watching him.<br />
. We call you our little 'Good Morning' because you are <i>always </i>happy when you wake up.<br />
. You are sleeping from 9:00 - 5:00 or 6:00<br />
. You can be very stubborn. You will cry for an hour and half when Maddux would fall asleep after 30 minutes. Maybe I should say you're strong-willed, not stubborn.<br />
. You met your cousin, Miss Indy, this month. <br />
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Month 5<br />
. You are laughing alllll of the time.<br />
. You love tubby time. You kick your chubby legs and flail your arms ... squealing the entire time.<br />
. Rolling over is still hit and miss. You can, but you're not consistent.<br />
. You have started waking up at 2:30 a.m. We think it's because you've started teething. I can't seem to break you of the habit.<br />
. You love your daddy. You beam every time he looks at you.<br />
. You have the craziest bald spot of all time. The longer your hair gets [and it's growing fast!] the more apparent that big, bald spot is. It makes me smile.<br />
. You <i>love</i> to hold hands. Whenever you are crying and I come to you, you grab ahold of my hands and will not let go. You hold them close to your chest until you drift off to sleep. <br />
<br />Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-62199181407081847692012-11-30T19:39:00.002-08:002013-04-08T06:48:05.266-07:00Six years as Mrs. Oakey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18px;"><i>** Just realizing I never published this post. It's been a draft for three months!</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Six years, two kids and four cities later, I still love this man -- more than I thought possible. August 24, 2012 marked our sixth year of marriage. Six years! We went to P.F. Changs to celebrate and that was almost as incredible as the last six years have been. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I have decided as each year passes, we will each write down something we have learned about our marriage. I will compile our experiences and tid-bits and give them to our children when they get married. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">My two cents:</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">As I look at the past year [in combination with the previous years], I have come to really appreciate the companionship marriage offers. It's amazing to have someone who hurts when you hurt, smiles when you smile, and laughs when you laugh. As I have experienced the emotional tosses and turns that accompany my dad's health, I know Makay is going through them with me. It is amazing to have someone who will bear my burdens with me ... in all things. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">It's odd how it all works, and I'm not sure how it happens. When my heart aches and Makay puts his arms around me, I feel as if I'm sharing that pain with him. He can feel it. By knowing and understanding what I'm experiencing helps me to overcome anything I'm going through. It's an incredible blessing. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I've also learned to see my own faults instead of his. I've learned this the hard way. The Lord had to soccer punch me in the face. Sometimes I can be a little prideful and I didn't even realize it ... which, I guess, is being prideful in and of itself. My Makay is patient with me. He loves me. He allows me to find my own faults without telling me what they are. I know he loves and appreciates me because he <i>shows me</i>. I'm one lucky girl. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Happy six years, Love. Here's to infinity and beyond [or as Maddux says, "to the city, and beyond!"]</span></span></span>Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-22957552668670409292012-11-08T13:28:00.001-08:002012-11-08T13:34:15.376-08:00Love him.<div><p>Maddux just told me when he gets bigger he will go on a mission and then he will get married .... to mommy. My heart is melting. </p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefX1U647p_XKTb0L26ZPrVd3E2lYZrPD2VWQvZ6a-j9cC_IMKix5GutPsnOqi7iFi2p2cLEiTo1_XC3sMEYpP37g9rxbQG3o6Sg0eBnjL6p2PIMHz6a_CXSULYTDyHelQID-U6cF_yq8/' /></div>Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-82185335949477222402012-10-10T21:28:00.002-07:002012-10-10T21:28:55.413-07:002.5 monthsMy sweet Macy Grace. You are 2.5 months old and an absolute joy to have in our family. <br />
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<br />
- You were 11 pounds at your two month appointment - 26th percentile.<br />
- You were in the 23rd percentile for height.<br />
- You just started sleeping from 10:15 p.m. to 6:30 a.m. eat then back to bed until 9:00 a.m.<br />
- You love your pacifier, but don't need it at night.<br />
- You haven't lost any of your hair. Eye color still unknown.<br />
- You smile and coo easily and often.<br />
- You are very patient with your brother. He loves you so much.<br />
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We love you, baby girl. Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-87846011119483475132012-09-27T23:34:00.001-07:002012-09-27T23:38:51.457-07:00He makes me happy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Maddux 3 | Macy 3 or 4 weeks</span></i></div>
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Today, I loved being a mom. Let's get real now -- I don't always love being a mom. It's difficult and exhausting, but today. Today was awesome. I had one of those moments that makes all of the hard moments worth it. I still don't even know exactly what happened. I was just staring at Maddux as he jabbered on about what he learned in pre-school and this amazing feeling of love came over me. I just love this boy so much! I grabbed him mid-sentence and gave him a good, hard squeeze which, of course, turned into a wrestling match.<br />
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I haven't posted about Maddux [or anything] in awhile so here are some random moments/facts I want to keep with me forever. <br />
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<b>Quick facts</b><br />
{*} Maddux is in pre-school this year. He loves it. I love it! It's so fun to see his little mind soaking in knowledge. He walks around the house singing nursery rhymes [very loudly, I might add].<br />
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{*} He's great at putting away the silverware and his clothes from the laundry.<br />
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{*} He's all about routine, routine, routine. He definitely got this from me. Some things just have to be done the same way. For example, when it's time for bed he has to [1] go potty [2] put pajamas on [3] brush teeth [4] read scriptures [5] say prayers [6] sing FIVE songs {I Am a Child of God, I Love to See the Temple, Child's Prayer, Families Can Be Together Forever, Teach Me To Walk in the Light}. These are all done in the same order every night.<br />
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{*} He's known all of his upper-case and lower-case letters and their sounds for awhile. He's always telling me what words start with. "<i>Baby</i> Sister, mom, buh, buh, B!"<br />
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<b>Maddux loves his daddy</b>.<br />
{*} He drops whatever he's doing and scrambles to the door as soon as he hears Makay get home in the morning. <br />
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{*} Maddux loves going on bike rides with dad. Every night before bed he looks at Makay and says, "We go on bike ride later, dad?"<br />
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{*} They have named themselves the <i>Boys Team.</i> Maddux is constantly turning everything into a competition and he runs around chanting, 'Boys team! Boys team!"<br />
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{*} No one wrestles better and plays harder than dad. I try, but I just can't compete with dad's hammer or half nelsons.<br />
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<b>Maddux with Macy</b><br />
{*} When I was pregnant with Macy, I knew Maddux would be entertained by her when she made her big debut. He has always loved babies. What I didn't expect was this instant bond between them. He truly loves her.<br />
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{*} Maddux always wants to show Macy his little achievements. "Look! Look sister, I put on my jammies!" "Look at this mask I made at pre-school, sister. It's a lamb!"<br />
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{*} He always gives her his blanket when she's crying. This makes me all warm inside. <br />
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{*} He's just pretty much always all over her. Touching her, kissing her, dancing her, hugging her, trying to wrestle her [yikes!]. One time I caught him staring at her while she was sleeping. He told me he was keeping her safe. "I just love her, mom."<br />
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<b></b><br />
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<b><b>Best Buds</b></b></div>
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Maddux loves his friend, Jacob. Jacob is probably involved in every other sentence that comes out of his mouth. They play like friends and fight like brothers. I love it. </div>
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<b>Funny/Sweet Sayings</b><br />
{*} Maddux crawled into bed with me when he woke up in the morning. As we were getting up, I mentioned to myself [yes, I do talk to myself], "Ugh, I think I'm getting sick." Maddux stood up on the bed, put his hands on my head and said, 'I will give you a blessing, mom."<br />
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{*} I really wanted Maddux to have some basic knowledge of what the Easter holiday celebrates. So, a month or so before Easter I purchased a book about Easter. He quickly became obsessed with it. He started spouting out one phrase per page as we read. The book went like this, "Oh, no, Jesus' friends are sad." <i>Turn page.</i> "Jesus died on the cross" <i>Turn page.</i> "Don't be cried, friends, don't be cried" <i>Turn page.</i> "Jesus lives!"<br />
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{*} He says, "I be a berry good job, mom!"<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">He thinks my breast pump is a telescope.</span></i> </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">First ride at the fair {or 'far' as he pronounces it}.</span></i></div>
<br />Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-22883098390799060272012-08-12T12:32:00.000-07:002012-08-12T12:32:01.325-07:0007.27.2012 | 11:14am | 6 lbs 11 oz, 20 inches long<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our little Macy Grace was born on July 27, 2012, and it took
her forever to get here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll
start her story from the very beginning.</div>
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She was due on Sunday, July 22, 2012.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom and sister came to Boise on
Tuesday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maddux was born two days
before his due date so we thought arriving on Tuesday would be perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My amazing friends threw me a baby
shower Tuesday night; I’m so happy my mom and sister were able to attend.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Tuesday came and went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I felt like a ticking time bomb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We just knew I was going to have the baby on Wednesday. We played some
games and did a lot of walking. Tuesday came and went. No baby.</div>
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Wednesday was it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Definitely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all just
knew it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wednesday came and
went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No baby.</div>
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Thursday was definitely the day. We were sure of it. We
walked and walked. We walked the greenbelt, Target, WalMart, and Fred
Meyer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thursday came and went. No
baby. </div>
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Friday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friday
was it. We went to see my doctor so she could see if I was progressing. Nope.
Two and 65. Really?? She stripped my membranes to speed things up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started having sporadic contractions
that night. Friday came and went. No baby.</div>
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Saturday had to be the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister had a flight out of Boise on Sunday so this little
girl had to come on Saturday. I started jogging laps around my living room and
kitchen. Maddux joined me; he loved it. Saturday came and went. No baby.</div>
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Sunday was it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My due date was Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This had to be the day. We went to church and anxiously awaited
contractions to start. Eventually it was time to take my sister to the airport
– without seeing her little niece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sunday came and went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
baby.</div>
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Monday for crying-out-loud had to be the day. I had a
doctor’s appointment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
considering induction if I had made any progress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, NO progress had been made – at all. None. Zip.
Zilch. Monday came and went. No baby.</div>
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Tuesday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
couldn’t believe it was Tuesday. My mom and I continued to walk and walk and
walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped pushing carts at
the store because we always left with items we didn’t need. Tuesday came and
went. No baby. </div>
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Wednesday. Was it seriously Wednesday? +3 days after my due
date?? I was one of those women who others took pity on when they found out she
went past her due date. Was I going to have to have a C-section? What if they
tried to induce me and I never progressed? I might have to have a
C-section.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never even considered
my path might take this route. Wednesday came and went. No baby.</div>
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Thursday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
woke not feeling well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really good. The day went on
as usual. The afternoon was welcomed with sporadic contractions. We walked and
walked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, today was the day I
would go the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really
knew it this time. </div>
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Makay works in the ICU at a hospital 30 minutes away so that
is where I needed to deliver. My entire pregnancy I feared delivering in the
car because of the distance from the hospital so once contractions were about
10 minutes apart we decided to head to Caldwell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took Maddux down to our friend’s house, LoraAnn, and took
off around11:00pm. We went to WalMart to walk, and walk we did. Writing down
the time intervals between contractions seemed to make the time pass a little
more quickly. To change things up we decided to walk at the hospital. So we
walked the floors of Makay’s workplace. We actually checked-in around 4:00am
when contractions were five minutes apart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had only progressed to a three and 95.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked some more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>5:00am—dilated to a four.
6:00am—dilated to a five.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>7:00
am—dilated to a six. 8:00am—dilated to a seven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I received my epidural which made me super light-headed and
nauseous for the first 10 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I never experienced that with Maddux.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once that passed, the doctor broke my water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>10:30am I start feeling a lot of
pressure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked my nurse to
check me and she was surprised I was a 10.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She called for the doctor. Pressure was getting worse and I
really wanted to push.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The doctor
arrives. He expects pushing will take some time. He’s not dressed in his
hospital scrubs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked me to
push once to see how things are looking. I pushed once and she started
crowning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The doctor looked a
little frantic and says, “stop pushing!.” He needed to get his scrubs on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could have you done this earlier?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I waited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Pressure. Pressure. Pressure. Baby’s head crowning, and I have to
wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally he’s ready. Over the
course of my next contraction she was born. 11:14am. Squished nose, matted
hair, swollen eyes—she was absolutely beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> 6 lbs 11oz, 20 inches long. </span>I was crying. My mom was crying. I look at Makay, and he
looks like he’s about to pass out. This is definitely out of character for him;
I knew something was wrong. Macy’s hand was on her head when she was born, and
her little fingers made a vein burst in the canal. Makay couldn’t believe how
much blood continued to flow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
doctor wasn’t frantic, but he was definitely barking orders to his nurses. He
was able to stitch the vein, but was worried about stitching up the urethra
[yikes!] because they were so close together. Because of this I had to wear a
lovely catheter for 12 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
was the worse part of the entire recovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time I moved I was nervous I was going to rip it out
[uh, ouch!]. </div>
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Maddux came to the hospital Saturday afternoon and fell
in-love with her instantly. He adores her every moment of every day. Every
morning he comes in my room, looks at her and says, “I just love her so
much, mom.” </div>
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We love her, too. </div>Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-70026821047459259432012-06-27T20:07:00.002-07:002012-09-10T20:14:37.333-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I believe in angels. I heard once the angels surrounding us are loved ones who have past on. It makes my heart all warm inside thinking it works this way so I'd like to believe it's true. Either way, loved ones who have past or unknown assigned guardians, I believe in angels and I'm thankful for a God who sends them. </div>
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This morning Maddux woke up at 7:00am. Though Makay only had a few hours of sleep himself, he wanted me to sleep in. The decision was made to take an early morning bike ride to the park -- a favorite father/son pass time in this household. Of course, I was sleeping and knew nothing about their departure. I woke up to a silent house -- no cartoons, no laughing, no sounds of pens and crayons coloring, no little man pretending to be Buzz Lightyear, no squeals as little feet jump off the couch and into a pile of pillows. Just silence. </div>
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I checked my phone for the time. 9:20. Oh, two missed calls at 9:18 -- one voicemail. Yawning, I check the message. "Alli. We're on a bike ride, and we've been in a little accident." My heart beats a little faster, but I assume he's popped a tire on his bike. "We're on McMillan by Five Mile." Good their close, I won't have to drive far. "Don't worry. Maddux is okay, but you should come and get him. He's scared." Wait, what? Why would he be scared of a popped tire? My heartbeat increases as I start considering all of the possibilities. Simultaneously, I put on my shoes, grab my keys and redial the number. When I hear Makay's voice I start to get choked up when I ask if everyone is okay. He repeatedly tells me Maddux is fine. I cry harder. I ask if he's okay. He chokes up, tells me he's fine, and they've been hit by a car. I'm bawling. </div>
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I can see them now. Maddux has his head buried in Makay's shoulder. I quickly try to dry my eyes as I park the car. I get out of the car, make eye contact with my husband, and lose it all over again. I throw my arms around both of them. I'm crying, Makay's crying, and the poor lady who hit them looks terrified to speak to me. </div>
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This is what happened: Makay and Maddux [Maddux is in a bike trailer] were coming home from the park. The lady who hit them was parked at a stop sign so Makay continued on his bike -- crossing the street. Just as his bike passed the car, she proceeded -- not seeing him or the trailer. Her car pulled directly into the trailer which threw Makay over his bike and totaled the trailer. Makay doesn't remember being thrown from the bike. He only remembers hearing Maddux scream. He thought Maddux had been pinned. He ran over to the trailer and was immediately able to see no long term damage had been done. Maddux was still buckled in the middle seat with no blood or broken bones. Upon further inspection, he realized not only were there no broken bones, but there were no scratches or bruises -- just tears. The trailer had acted as a cage around him. As for Makay, despite being thrown from his bike, he has only a few <i>scratches</i> on one knee and a scuffed up helmet. No broken bones. No road rash. No deep cuts or bruises. He should have fallen harder than he did. I can't help but think what would have happened if the car had hit him and not the trailer -- both he and Maddux would be in very different conditions. </div>
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So, yes. My day has been spent not sweating the small stuff. I didn't clean the house. I didn't do the laundry. I didn't work out, and I definitely didn't count calories. I've cuddled and kissed Maddux more today than in his little three years combined. I've held Makay's hand, kissed him, hugged him, and prayed with him. It's been more impressed on my mind that these two men in my life <i>are my life,</i> and quite frankly, nothing else matters. </div>
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I believe in the protecting arms of angels sent from a loving God. So thank you Poppy, Shelly, Ruby, Grandpa and Grandma Daw. Thank you unknown beautiful angel, and thank you God for my family. Nothing else seems to matter. </div>
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Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-41662792832095849902012-06-23T19:56:00.001-07:002013-04-08T06:48:31.474-07:00Father's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>A short shout out to the love of my life: Happy Father's Day. </b> </div>
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.Thank you for working the long nights.</div>
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.Thank you for making Maddux's eyes light up every morning when you walk through the door. .Thank you for making me laugh so hard my sides hurt.</div>
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.Thank you for leaving late at night to give someone a blessing.</div>
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Thank you for being you. I love you. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGTwba0EhUiKGoBWK-R1NkXiJa_nbpWn7poUOxf7t-nOUabmdYeT5G36bVNsD52NVX2HQ1vbDjb6O8MBG3_dhmiq4dzJZI2X14sYPGgHOb2QhySlQvXgQgxLoMkyIgH5QYQE-JnqJzv_o/s1600/FathersDay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGTwba0EhUiKGoBWK-R1NkXiJa_nbpWn7poUOxf7t-nOUabmdYeT5G36bVNsD52NVX2HQ1vbDjb6O8MBG3_dhmiq4dzJZI2X14sYPGgHOb2QhySlQvXgQgxLoMkyIgH5QYQE-JnqJzv_o/s640/FathersDay.jpg" width="465" /></a></div>
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<i>Doesn't my husband look extremely attractive in these pictures??</i></div>
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Father's Day started on Saturday for us. Our good friends, the Walls, took us out on their motorcycles. We had so much fun. Maddux LOVED riding, playing in the dirt, and climbing hills. Makay loved feeling like a real man in his motorcycle gear. I loved to have an excuse to sit and talk to Lora for hours on end. </div>
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Makay woke up Sunday morning to breakfast in bed and presents. He got a t-shirt with a race car track drawn on the back for Maddux to drive his cars on -- free back rubs! [Thank you, Pinterest, for that idea] I also had some pictures of Maddux printed and mounted on styrene for his locker at work. </div>
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A special shout out to my dad as well. You're handsome, intelligent, and extremely funny, but most of all, you produce children who are even better than you are [snickering inside]. Thank you for that. </div>Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-31496973731667852632012-06-12T19:45:00.002-07:002012-06-12T19:45:45.826-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Occasionally, Maddux likes to sneak out of bed, and <i>occasionally</i> I let him stay up. This does <i>not</i> happen very often and he's thrilled when I actually say yes. He knows after I put him to bed I read my scriptures. So when he wants to butter me up he asks if he can come read with me. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5BfuzABc9UwtWCzacYZ3Y0suB44jUihoPKip7FP8iyvlqZfnJaFIlA8T7wbrVlDnZzsJChmT2LS7dsBE2DoN4_H6v4BHm6korKtd7qbc9a7oJohtBzSCA97ojvvTTFJpOWcNPsimFZI/s1600/s6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5BfuzABc9UwtWCzacYZ3Y0suB44jUihoPKip7FP8iyvlqZfnJaFIlA8T7wbrVlDnZzsJChmT2LS7dsBE2DoN4_H6v4BHm6korKtd7qbc9a7oJohtBzSCA97ojvvTTFJpOWcNPsimFZI/s640/s6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We had fun tonight. It was one of those times I could put my tasking aside and really enjoy him. Scripture study soon turned into saying cheese for the camera. The two photos on the right are of him playing and giving hugs to baby sister. He told me several times tonight that he wants to dance with her when she's born. He also said, 'When baby sister is born, I have her run with me. She run with me mom??' He's really excited for her to come -- so are we.<br />
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<i>*note: I'm 34 weeks pregnant in these photos. </i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-41759993554621179772012-06-08T20:16:00.000-07:002012-06-08T20:16:08.146-07:00Rude awakeningFor the past few months [okay, longer than that] I've felt strongly that I need to maintain my blog, but I've done nothing about it. Now, I sit here 33.5 weeks pregnant trying to remember the first three years of Maddux's life. All of those funny stories and sayings I thought I would never forget are dimming. My heart sinks knowing I have nothing to read through to refresh my memory. So, here's to a new beginning.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrehMHLDlHxg4CFAr5LmyfYm1op_0lX0oG_e0rBJdJMI9GZig-ph8pWHfmx2zGRecJ5iRRnB_TO7uKm9At6gSfdlo5QDtBIvwxI6_RiODprFawGSkKfsgXZgMqOdUc4vL2l5VmHTSlor4/s1600/m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrehMHLDlHxg4CFAr5LmyfYm1op_0lX0oG_e0rBJdJMI9GZig-ph8pWHfmx2zGRecJ5iRRnB_TO7uKm9At6gSfdlo5QDtBIvwxI6_RiODprFawGSkKfsgXZgMqOdUc4vL2l5VmHTSlor4/s400/m.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Maddux was playing at a friends house yesterday. He was running, jumping, diving, rolling, and laughing. Boys will be boys and Maddux got hurt. I didn't think anything of it until he immediately stopped crying and went limp. His eyes glossed over and his breathing was anything but normal. My heart went into a frenzy. I started screaming his name -- trying to get him to focus on me. A few minutes that felt like hours slowing crawled by and he started coming around. He was pale, but fairly responsive. I still don't know exactly what happened. This has happened once before [we'll be talking to the Pediatrician]. I've never felt such a surge of panic in my life. I was overcome with the love I felt for my child, and I was filled with an extremely intense and absolute need to keep him safe and protected. </div>
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An hour or so later I watched him sleeping peacefully on the couch snuggling his blanket. I sat on the ground next to the couch stroking his hair and allowing tears to stream down my face and I poured out my heart to my Father in Heaven, allowing my thoughts to guide my prayer. Please protect him always. Keep him safe. Don't let him be scared or hurt without giving him an avenue of peace. Help me to always be close to the Spirit so I can always know how to protect him, guide him, love him. Of course I know my little guy needs to experience pain, hurt and rejection in order to grow. I know someday he will feel left out. Someday he'll have his heart broken. I know I won't be able to hold him and keep him safe in my arms forever. However, when he's too big for my arms, I pray he will know whose arms <i>will always</i> be extended. I guess my duty as a mother isn't to always keep him protected, but to teach him that it is Christ who can truly do the protecting. </div>
<br />Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-38214919018844605902011-09-02T20:30:00.000-07:002011-09-02T20:34:25.090-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhARBXW-dN7sTUE-GIL8QD17sIBqONVB5Iq1lA57M7Teu8JjGq1zSyTr6wCTwJYATqDmKlhRSfXPSGNQRKfehzbJEvYvHtypilncReJwXmsVBuwSKDk8xWXYg9RmJE0od3y7hVB0wKE4uo/s1600/us-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhARBXW-dN7sTUE-GIL8QD17sIBqONVB5Iq1lA57M7Teu8JjGq1zSyTr6wCTwJYATqDmKlhRSfXPSGNQRKfehzbJEvYvHtypilncReJwXmsVBuwSKDk8xWXYg9RmJE0od3y7hVB0wKE4uo/s640/us-blog.jpg" width="354" /></a></div>
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<i>Disclaimer: These were all taken on my phone. Hence, our beauty. </i> </div>
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Well, I'm a horrible blogger, but this can't go un-blogged. [Did I just make up a new word??] </div>
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August 24th marked our fifth year of marriage. Five whole years. We celebrated early by going to a Michael Buble concert [which was a.w.e.s.o.m.e.]. We also went out to eat a few days after and <i>had great conversation</i>. I emphasize this because I had an epiphany while eating. When Makay and I were first married eating out was completely different than it is now. In my family, eating out is an occasion, <i>an experience</i>. A time to connect, bond, create memories. Ya know, the right way to do it. <i>[sly smile happening over here] </i>The first time we went out to eat as a married couple <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">we were in and out of the restaurant in 30 minutes</span></span></span>. For r.e.a.l. This includes the time to be seated, order, eat, and figure the tip. I was heart-broken. </div>
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Didn't he want to talk to me [<i>thought in a petty, 16 year-old voice</i>]? <i>Sniff.</i> Bond? Have a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">conversation</span></span></span>? Didn't he love me?? Okay, so I over-exaggerated, over-thought, and over-analyzed. I'm a woman, okay! </div>
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Now, compare to the latest experience. Ahem. I dress up, feeling quite lovely. We walk out the door. "Oh, shoot, should I have dressed up?" says an alarmed husband as he looks upon his <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">smokin' wife</span></span></span>. <i>If you don't like it, get your own commentary. It's my memory! </i>"Oh, this old thing? I just threw it on, no worries, Love." It's a lie and he knows it. I bought the outfit like three days before and bragged about the great deals. He smiles and walks me out the door.<br />
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We say goodbye to the kid <i>[okay, my sweet little munchkin who I love and adore] </i>and head out. We go to a nice little Italian restaurant, Asiagos, in down-town Boise. We were the only ones sitting outside. How romantico. I order my usual Diet Coke with lemon. He does the same. <i>I was shocked, he usually goes for the lemonade. </i>Then we ate and talked....<br />
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ate and talked..</div>
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ate, talked, ate talked, ate... talked ....</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">for two entire hours</span></span></span>. That's right ladies and gents. My love and I had a conversation for two hours. A real, deep, meaningful conversation. That's when it hit me. My husband is awesome. For r.e.a.l. </div>
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Then we walked around down-town and had great time. Despite the three Diet Cokes which were starting to catch up with me.</div>
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Let's get real now. That story ended up being longer than expected. For posterity sake... as well as for my own <i>[especially durning those moments when we're both saying, "I have to be married to you for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #93c47d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">eternity</span></span></span>?!"] </i>I'm going to recount a few of the things I've learned these past years...</div>
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[1] Marriage is a more joyful experience when the Lord is involved. As I find myself praying for Makay [especially during the difficult times of marriage] the Lord blesses me with a heightened level of love for him. I can't even explain it. </div>
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[2] Serve. Truly serve. It's not a game. It's just pure service. Charity, rather. <i>Serve without expecting anything in return -- or keeping score. </i></div>
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[3] Communicate. Always communicate your needs; be respectful of your spouses needs -- even if you don't understand them. Understanding comes in time. Until then, just <i>do</i> because you <i>love</i>.</div>
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<i>Cheesy line coming up</i> I'm so blessed to have Makay in my life. He is more than I deserve. He is a spectacular dad, a strong leader, a faithful priesthood holder, an honorable man, and an loving husband.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Here's to five more</span></span></span></div>
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oh, times infinity </div>
Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998946040787344878.post-35385556879186065612011-05-18T07:33:00.001-07:002013-04-08T06:48:59.087-07:00birthday | two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, my munchkin is two. Time has passed quickly--too quickly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Maddux had a combined birthday party with his friend, Jacob. They are only a day apart. Maddux is so lucky to have such a good, little friend and to be loved by his family. We ate some barbeque, opened presents, played in bubbles and finished with cupcakes and ice cream. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Maddux took most of his cues from Jacob until we brought out the cupcakes; he knew exactly what he wanted and dove right in. He's definitely his mama's baby. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqpwAW7zv574-I_mIoejIvSTE05alPOf6CdDeyvAEhYaXMbF0iUMbrQUmJ7a44_jXB0dAqpzuvaygy5ogmlmRbI1bpJ5iHc4dhYtaX1Ioo_6RYBlCNkq767-Be21JGo5RvFXpQNuJVF0/s1600/12-web.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqpwAW7zv574-I_mIoejIvSTE05alPOf6CdDeyvAEhYaXMbF0iUMbrQUmJ7a44_jXB0dAqpzuvaygy5ogmlmRbI1bpJ5iHc4dhYtaX1Ioo_6RYBlCNkq767-Be21JGo5RvFXpQNuJVF0/s400/12-web.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aM535j3glrkEu7ikSqMW86U5gODn4dYTCFTy_5otWfVerAvgTJH_ioURDrEf8MpbIe9htjPDBneP4e5rjgzfQYIxGC7OhMNAGHP9vf2NOHjjXt9S2ZRkukg3ChuRI91km4bGmJS6HtM/s1600/13-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aM535j3glrkEu7ikSqMW86U5gODn4dYTCFTy_5otWfVerAvgTJH_ioURDrEf8MpbIe9htjPDBneP4e5rjgzfQYIxGC7OhMNAGHP9vf2NOHjjXt9S2ZRkukg3ChuRI91km4bGmJS6HtM/s400/13-web.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
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I never knew happiness had a never-ending potential. I find myself feeling like he could never make me happier -- and then he does. He fills me like <i>nothing else</i> can. I still find myself watching him sleep during the night. Sometimes I pick up and rock him. His legs and feet dangle off the chair while his cheeks are smashed between my arm and chest. His little mouth hangs wide open. He's safe, and I want to keep him that way forever--right there in my arms where he can't be hurt. Of course, I know that can't be the case. Eventually he'll know what it feels like to be left out, have a broken heart, or even be disliked [though I can't imagine why anyone would dislike <i>my little one</i>]. My heart wrenches when I think about him experiencing these painful feelings. But, with these experiences comes growth, and in the end, that's truly what I want. I want him to grow into a strong, honorable, and dedicated man [who still loves and admires his mother, of course].<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">apologies if this ends up side-ways... </span></i></div><br />
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</div>Allihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08695955979864332207noreply@blogger.com2