tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17114629308529099162024-03-13T16:11:58.909-07:00Barry BedlamitesA lot of dirt, a lot of noise, a lot of love.Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.comBlogger250125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-39921724899493236442012-04-14T21:41:00.000-07:002012-04-14T21:47:41.884-07:00snakes and casual profanity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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J- "Mom! Look what I did! I made my letters snakes!"<br />
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Me- "*Snort* Why yes you did darling."</div>
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J- "Look, I wrote my name with snakes..J-A-N-E. See their heads!"</div>
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Me- "That is so great honey, I can tell you worked really hard! *Ahem* what is that you wrote at the bottom?"</div>
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J - "I don't know, it's just letters....A-S-S-.......oh yeah, and dat's a T! What does that spell momma?"</div>
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Me- "*Giggle* It spells go show your daddy what a great job you did making your letters into snakes, and then bring me that paper to put in your special box."</div>Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-66575326086787048342012-04-12T07:26:00.003-07:002012-04-12T07:41:01.095-07:00ExperimentNot sure how I feel about this...this blogging thing. There has been a time in my life when it was my lifeline. My connection with the outside world. One of the few things helping me cling to sanity. Then there came a time when it was too much. Too exposed. Too personal. Too many people that could see into my life. That is when I closed up shop. I pulled out of blogging, and cut way back on other social networking sites. It has been a year and a half since that time. I look back at the person I was then, and am amazed at the amount of pain I was in. I didn't realize how depressed I was. Even now thinking about it too much and I verge on a panic attack. Thankfully, I am not that person anymore, and my life is not in the same place. My kids are all toilet trained for one. All of my kids are in some form of school this year...3 of them are gone M-F from 6:40am to 3:15pm. I don't feel like I am drowning. I can do things with my children, and it doesn't feel like the bulk of my time is spent from keeping someone from accidentally killing themselves(cutting their sister's hair yes,*cough*cough*Annie*, but nothing life threatening) Anyway, it feels like time to try again. To reach out and connect. No promises! There is still a raw and tender part of my soul that flinches at the thought.... but here's to giving it a shot!Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-17305078141445872822010-05-26T22:47:00.000-07:002010-05-26T22:59:29.278-07:00running and talkingI went on a run tonight with Gavin. I did a mile circuit with him and then ran 2 more by myself. The first part of the run he would dart ahead and run back, he was so excited to be doing it with me. About half way through he started to get tired and so he slowed down and went my pace. The beauty of this for him was that he had my undivided attention and talked non stop. He told me the story of the 3 Billy Goats Gruff(a book we checked out from the library) and how all the goats were named Gavin(in the story they were all named Gruff and he thought that was funny). Then he gave me a blow by blow account of how scrap yards work. We checked out a "Mighty Machines" dvd from redbox a couple of weeks ago, and I am amazed at how much he has retained from the one time he saw it. I think he quoted some parts of it word for word to me. He is so engaged with the world around him. It was so much fun getting to spend that time with him and just listen. It was a peaceful moment to end the chaotic day. Thanks Gavin!Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-40543926254826167452010-05-26T09:19:00.000-07:002010-05-26T09:57:47.474-07:00poop postI am making dinner. Rice in the rice cooker, food cooking away on the stove. I turn to the sink to wash the kids plates. 2 plates cleaned, and 15 seconds later I turn back to the counter and the 3 youngest heathens have the rice jar on the floor taking turns(how sweet!) sticking their hands in and pulling out handfuls to dump on the floor. I shoo them all out of the kitchen and grab the broom, sweep it up and turn to the trash can to dump the mess. As I dump the rice in the can I hear ***SPLAT** "uh oh, MOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYY!" and turn to see that Annie has unscrewed the lid on my water bottle and dumped it all over the floor, I see Gavin run past at the same time laughing like a maniac and waving Jane's special blanket over his head, Jane is right behind him and screaming in a pitch that would kill a dog. I yell at Gavin to give the blanket back and run down the hall to grab a towel. I get the towel and start mopping up the kitchen when someone yells, "Annie NAKED!"(sends chills through my heart, will explain in a minute) leave the towel on the floor and run to the front room that Annie has her diaper half off, Gavin is on the couch taunting Jane with her blanket, and Atticus is bouncing like a mad man on all of the furniture. In a moment I can see two possible futures stretching out before me, one of which involves me as a sad story on the news and eventually a life time in prison...I choose the next option which involves me screaming at the top of my lungs, "GET IN YOUR ROOM NOW! EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!" I herd them all down the hall and lock the door behind them yelling that they can get out when their daddy is home from work. end scene.<br /><br />The Diaper Chronicles:<br /><br />Annie has been in a clothing optional frame of mind. I find her sans clothes and diapers at odd times(Kenneth came home from a hardware store run to find her running around the back yard in her birthday suit....in my defense we were ALL supposed to be taking a nap). A couple of nights ago the 3 youngest went to bed and had been merrily playing for about 30 minutes when I heard a little voice squeak "help me!" As I enter their darkened room I notice 3 things, 1. they've shoved their mattresses on the floor, 2. they have all removed their clothes. 3. it smells like pooped. Jane and Atticus at least are still in their diapers, so of course when I ask "who pooped" the answer is "Annie did!" yuck yuck yuck. Kenneth cleans up the room, I clean up the delinquent...and then duct taped her diaper on(and make a mental note to always tape her diaper on before bed). Next night, same time. I hear a scream at the door and go to open it. In the instant before I take in the scene I remember note from the night before, but alas to late, there is Annie crying at the door sans diaper. Sniff the air, yep apparently <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> is part of her nightly routine too. This time she has the foresight to remove her diaper before she poops....which actually makes a much bigger mess. Oy vey. I don't forget the tape anymore.<br /><br />Did I mention we have company coming over this morning? The house is a mess and the kids are being demanding and doing things like pooping in the bathtub(thanks Jane) savaging library books, demanding 4 different things at once and all around driving me bonkers. So instead of cleaning, I've locked them outside(with popsicles so they won't yell) and am blogging...because someday I know I will laugh about this....<br /><br />But the next person who tells me to enjoy this moment because they "grow up so fast, " might not survive the conversation!Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-67049332098678936352010-05-17T11:14:00.000-07:002010-05-17T11:35:35.018-07:00progress through chaosYou know when you decide to reorganize a room. In the beginning there is a lot of pulling things out and moving things around, and somewhere in the middle you look around and it looks like a bomb went off. Utter chaos. And slowly from that chaos the organization emerges. That is my life right now. I feel like I have been gradually making changes in my life that will in the long run mean a better more organized life...but for now, we are still in the chaotic stage.<br /><br />For one, I am trying to cook for my family more, and cook more healthy food. This is a big step for me, and I am doing great at it 2 days at a time. Day three I don't feel like making bread again, Day 4 I am still burned out, and Day 5 Kenneth asks me if I am trying to starve the family(since I am trying not to buy things that I can make =). At some point I get enough energy to make enough bread and granola bars to get us thru a few days.<br /><br />For two, I am trying to exercise on a regular basis. 4 kids in 3 years was not kind to my body, and I am at the point that I would love to not need a seatbelt extender when I fly to Utah in August(yeah it is THAT bad, embarrassing I know... or at least I needed one a year ago a.k.a. the last time I flew...I have been exercising on a semi regular basis since January And I am signed up for a half marathon in July that I am training for, so who knows, it might be an achievable goal.)<br /><br />For three, I am trying to cut down on the number of movies my kids watch in a given day/week/month. I do this at serious risk for my sanity, but it is a lot like the cooking we have our good days and we have our relapse days while I build up the courage to try again.<br /><br />I am also trying to keep my house clean enough that when the sugar ants invade that I don't secretly feel like I deserve them, I am trying to wash clothes often enough that we never run out of towels, I am trying have meaningful spiritual enlightenment on a daily basis, I am trying to have weekly family home evening that is more that watching a movie and eating cookies, I am trying to have meaningful interaction with each child at least once a day, I am trying not to yell(ha ha), I am trying to figure out where the pee smell is coming from....I am trying.<br /><br />So chaos is a frequent visitor at our house, dare I say an hourly visitor? I think that would be an accurate description.<br /><br />More to say, but I have kids hanging on my ankles and yelling profanity(well not actual profanity, but there is a tone of voice that makes anything said in it sound like a sailor).Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-48623283994682958672010-04-16T10:44:00.000-07:002010-05-15T11:34:49.107-07:00some old notes never posted.Twins in the kitchen. The door of the freezer is open, Atticus is standing on the floor directing the operation, Jane is standing in a pulled out drawer about halfway up the cabinet.<br /><br />Atticus: "It's dere, (pointing) wight dere!"<br />Jane: (stretching on her tip toes) "I can't do it! I can't do it!"<br /><br /><br />I discovered last night what is my version of hell. To be tied down, completely unable to move and have someone who has brushed their teeth in a while lick my face or breath on my neck. It gives the willies just thinking about it. Kenneth and the kids ganged up on me last night. It was a BAD. IDEA.Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-68012309522127307942010-02-19T09:42:00.000-08:002010-02-19T09:50:34.783-08:00odds and ends...I think part of the reason this conversation is so cute to me is the very fact that I can have a conversation with Atticus...my babies are growing up!<br /><br />Atticus: "Mommy, wats dat?"<br />Me: "That's my belly button."<br />A: "Yo belly buddon?"<br />Me: "Yep."<br />lifting his shirt and pointing<br />A: "Wook mommy. Dere's my belly buddon. Wat Dat momma...dat yo boddum?"<br />Me: "Yes, that's my bottom now get out of the bathroom so I can finish getting dressed!"<br /><br />--------------------------------------<br /><br />We did a fit test this morning in at my class and these were my results:<br /><br />20 modified pullups<br />63 crunches in 2 mins.<br />37 modified pushups in 2 mins<br />lasted 1min. 30 seconds for the 2 min. plank<br />3 miles in 37mins and 50 seconds(a new personal best, wheeee!)<br /><br />I have signed up for a half marathon in July, and my goal by then is to be able to do real pushup and pullups! Yea Me!Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-62112550764581192010-02-12T10:50:00.000-08:002010-02-12T10:55:54.473-08:00enlightening conversation...Gavin: "We help Jesus when we choose the right!"<br />Me: "That's right honey." <span style="font-style: italic;">I am thinking, 'what a smart kid! He surprises me everyday with the things he is absorbing!'</span><br />Gavin: Holding up his hand and waving it around, "Is this(indicating his hand) the right?"<br />Me: "Oh. Well yeah, that is your right hand."Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-65732517442714792142010-02-05T19:25:00.000-08:002010-02-06T00:36:25.612-08:00LullabyI warn you. If you are looking for spectacular musical ability then you probably don't want to listen to this. Lately we have been letting Gavin stay up a little later that the other kids. It makes him feel so big, and so he has been helping us put the other kids to bed. He helps us tuck them in and even helps sing our lullaby, "Angel Lullaby." It gets a little better towards the middle. Grandma's Barry and Ross this is for you:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzqef9BwMLiDySKXHjGs-orrkQ01ergLBn1QFNWFkkU_U81PpIsuFunL8xfYXaiOwAgAL3wNqBUDTgls4fh' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><br />Tonight before bedtime the kids were running around like crazies, crashing into each other and laughing hysterically. At one point I looked over to see Atticus laying on top of Anne's head. "Atticus," I snapped, "get off of her head!" Gavin pipes up, "But Mommy, we are da lions and she's da zebra." I then notice that Gavin is indeed laying on her legs and has her foot in his mouth. Anne was remarkably complacent during the whole affair, happy I think, just to be included.Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-37068694751132106752010-02-05T07:24:00.000-08:002010-02-05T07:41:59.603-08:00I love love love LOVE my kids...no really, I do!Yesterday was a fun day. There are major diaper failures on the girls <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> boys beds the night before. Which makes us stuck at home while I try to get the bedding washed and dried by nap time. As I am putting the last sheet and blanket back into place I realize that Annie has fallen asleep on my bed. Shoot. Oh well. I decide to make lunch before attempting a nap with the others. When I go to pry the kids out of their cartoon lair...aka <span style="font-style: italic;">my room</span>, Atticus is laying, on my bed, in a huge puddle of urine. HUGE. "Oh well," I think, "at least it is on Kenneth's side." cue karma. 30 minutes later Annie wakes up in a huge puddle of urine AND poop....on <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> side of the bed. Joy. Did I mention that I have just gotten all of their bedding back on their beds? Now on to the king size mess. I think I can have the comforter dried before my bedtime. Maybe. If I hurry. Kids!<br /><br />This morning Gavin comes up behind me and says, "Mommy, you have a race track bottom."<br />Me: "What does that mean?"<br />Gavin: "That you really <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> look like a hippopotamus!"<br /><br />And we were excited when he started talking!?!<br /><br />I really really really love my kids....no really, I do!Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-54090024334552119002010-01-30T21:06:00.000-08:002010-01-30T22:33:05.172-08:00UpdatesWell, it has been a while. I can't apologize. I did write....but in my journal. The end of November and the month of December were wonderful, terrible, stressful, blessed months. A lot happened, but most of it was too personal for this public forum.<br /><br />Annie:<br /><br />I heard her calling, "Hep(help) me! Momma! Hep me!" When I walked in the room I found her like this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQiI7QHLI/AAAAAAAAcEw/mzlO0pVLnu8/s1600-h/DSCN2622.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQiI7QHLI/AAAAAAAAcEw/mzlO0pVLnu8/s400/DSCN2622.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432766704189971634" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />She thinks she is one of the twins...unfortunately for her it sometimes gets her stuck. She is so mischievous. One of her favorite games is to grab toys from her sibs, and run away shrieking with laughter while they chase her down and tackle her(which she also loves). She is my little shadow. Where ever I am she is my little satellite with a five foot orbit around me. She is only one month away from being legit in nursery....*<span style="font-style: italic;">cue Hallelujah Chorus* </span>She has been ready for the last 6 months, and will get to hang out with the twins in there for almost a whole year....methinks she won't have any trouble with the transition.<br /><br />She loves to talk on the phone, but her script never varies...<br /><br />"He-oh Gwa-pa!(regardless of who she is talking to) Yesh. I oh ooh(I love you). Bye bye. He-oh Gwa-pa!"<br /><br />We moved all the kiddos into the same room. I had my doubts about the arrangement, but Kenneth insisted. What do you know, they LOVE it. Not only that, but within a week they were all sleeping in the same bed. Blows me away every evening that they actually like sleeping in a pile.<br /><br /><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQNgy7QUI/AAAAAAAAcEA/cv8bnjkOX8c/s1600-h/DSCN2516-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQNgy7QUI/AAAAAAAAcEA/cv8bnjkOX8c/s400/DSCN2516-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432766349820248386" border="0" /></a>Atticus:<br /><br />A few nights back Gavin got extremely frustrated, yelled, "I'm so ANGRY!" Stomped down the hall and slammed his bedroom door.<br /><br />A few minutes later Atticus(who had been playing quietly with his trains) looked up at me and said, "Mom, I so An-gwee!" with a serious look that I couldn't take seriously. Again, "MOM, I so An-gwee!" And he stands up and makes a big show of stomping down the hall and trying to slam his door. A little while later he came back, but as soon as he noticed me watching him, he quickly restored his disgruntled look, informed me once again that he was "an-gwee," and stomped once again down the hall. He did it at least 3 times, and again the next morning. Of course when Gavin did it, it infuriated me. When Atticus did it I was in giggles the whole time, I am sure at some point I will regret that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UYpIKkmKI/AAAAAAAAcFw/zCKFLPY10QA/s1600-h/DSCN2525.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UYpIKkmKI/AAAAAAAAcFw/zCKFLPY10QA/s400/DSCN2525.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432775620337899682" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Atticus has also decided that he likes preschool. We do preschool once a week with some other kids their age in the ward. For the first half of the year Atticus was only interested in whether or not the other kids had cars at their houses. Then, in the beginning of January, all of the sudden he <span style="font-style: italic;">woke up</span> in preschool. He participates, he is excited and learning. He pesters me everyday to go to preschool and pitches a fit on the days that Gavin gets to go to preschool and he doesn't. Oy vey.<br /><br />He is an opinionated little cuss...and usually his opinion involves taking the opposite view of what ever I have decided needs to happen. He refuses to kiss me. He is my most momma's boy of the momma's boys...but suddenly he is very stingy with his affection. Apparently he is too old to kiss his mother. Unfortunately for him, his mother is still bigger than him and can wrestle him down and bestow kisses and hugs. Seriously, what a stink!<br /><br />Gavin:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UcNrC7XdI/AAAAAAAAcF4/gBJpYgXxHC4/s1600-h/DSCN2522.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UcNrC7XdI/AAAAAAAAcF4/gBJpYgXxHC4/s400/DSCN2522.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432779546711252434" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />He is putting the world together in interesting ways. He is full of questions, and because his father is an incredible teacher, if Gavin asks a question, then Kenneth gives him a detailed understandable answer. Gavin is getting a pretty good grasp of what is going on around him. This has led to some very embarrassing situations... Like when his preschool teacher was talking about baby penguins and baby polar bears. Baby penguins hatch out of eggs and baby polar bears are born....Gavin jumps in, "...like people. Like my dad put his _____ in my mommy's _____ and there was sperm and it turned into a cell, and that cell turned into Annie. And then Annie came out of my mommy, and she's our baby." Let's just say the teacher's eyes got big...and it went over the heads of the other kids....At least I hope it did, because Gavin also happened to mention to his classmates around Christmas that there <span style="font-style: italic;">is no Santa Claus</span>....and Heavens to Betsy are we really the family that introduced sex AND ruined Christmas to a group of 4 year olds? Needless to say, we are now working on the concept of 'things you only talk about with Mom/Dad/Grandma/Grandpa.'<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UjrTw2GUI/AAAAAAAAcGA/Ff_fc_LnZII/s1600-h/DSCN2097-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UjrTw2GUI/AAAAAAAAcGA/Ff_fc_LnZII/s400/DSCN2097-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432787752438864194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We have been doing a lot of mani/pedi's around here. Jane needs to change the color of her finger nails at least twice a week(Thanks Aunt Stephanie for greatly expanding our nail polish supply). Jane revels so much in girly things that she sucks other people into her world. Atticus usually demands(and is gratified) that his fingernails AND toenails be painted whenever Jane gets hers done...He also asks every once in a while where <span style="font-style: italic;">his</span> dress is.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQhnKL6RI/AAAAAAAAcEo/ZJpei65-g3M/s1600-h/DSCN2547.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQhnKL6RI/AAAAAAAAcEo/ZJpei65-g3M/s400/DSCN2547.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432766695125805330" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Kenneth recently got some serious street cred with Jane. So if you need a chuckle just ask Kenneth to take off his shoes....<br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQQBvIdeI/AAAAAAAAcEg/LI4AajDFjxI/s1600-h/DSCN2541.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQQBvIdeI/AAAAAAAAcEg/LI4AajDFjxI/s400/DSCN2541.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432766393022445026" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I am signed up for a fitness boot camp. My coach also plays amateur roller hockey. His team was in the playoffs so we went to the game. It was by far the best sporting event we have ever been to as a family. The glass goes all the way to the floor so the kids had an excellent view, and whenever someone or the puck slammed into the glass by us it was like Christmas, they were so excited. It was also low key enough that people were not bothered by 4 energetic kiddos running up and down the bleachers and all around the place.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQPR1cAEI/AAAAAAAAcEY/3FKrMKqfsmw/s1600-h/DSCN2530.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/S2UQPR1cAEI/AAAAAAAAcEY/3FKrMKqfsmw/s400/DSCN2530.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432766380163989570" border="0" /></a>Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-57509986454554520922009-11-14T12:44:00.001-08:002009-11-14T13:07:33.872-08:00farmer's market...When we were making the decision to move to Cali, finding a place to live became my responsibility. I told the Lord that if I was going to have to leave my family to move across the country with 4 little kids, then finding a house needed to be easy. Otherwise I would take it as a sign that we weren't supposed to move(even though I knew we were) and plant my behind firmly in southeast Texas! The Lord was merciful with my insolence and the perfect place just about fell into our laps. Seriously I keep finding out reasons we are lucky to be were we are. 1. We have a huge fenced in backyard. The biggest one that I have seen in our price range. 2. We live by so many parks...and in a place with weather where you can play outside year round. 3. There is a super Target 3 blocks from our house. It has been closed for renovations the whole time we have lived here, but no more...Grand Opening is TOMORROW! I am so excited! 4. There is a farmers market every Saturday...3 blocks from our house! Seriously! We live in such a cool place. Today was my first time to visit. I didn't get a lot of pictures of the stalls of produce, and indian food, and handicrafts....But we did run into this guy:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XDuJU2OI/AAAAAAAAZD0/WfHiY_Qe0Fs/s1600-h/DSCN1122.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XDuJU2OI/AAAAAAAAZD0/WfHiY_Qe0Fs/s400/DSCN1122.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404063430562076898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />It was kind of a tough sell at first...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XD-O340I/AAAAAAAAZD8/1jn9FCQToy0/s1600-h/DSCN1124.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XD-O340I/AAAAAAAAZD8/1jn9FCQToy0/s400/DSCN1124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404063434880312130" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />But with a little balloon flatulence he won them over...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XEnZRK5I/AAAAAAAAZEM/grt240XHBrw/s1600-h/DSCN1132.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XEnZRK5I/AAAAAAAAZEM/grt240XHBrw/s400/DSCN1132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404063445929765778" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />...especially Atticus, who laughed so hard he got blue in the face and I was sure he was going to pass out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XESKI5bI/AAAAAAAAZEE/WwOhqaG6gPY/s1600-h/DSCN1130.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XESKI5bI/AAAAAAAAZEE/WwOhqaG6gPY/s400/DSCN1130.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404063440229164466" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We ended up popping most of our balloons before we even paid for them, but the kids were laughing so hard they didn't care.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XFDFHfmI/AAAAAAAAZEU/6MQOCqMYFFo/s1600-h/DSCN1135.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv8XFDFHfmI/AAAAAAAAZEU/6MQOCqMYFFo/s400/DSCN1135.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404063453361438306" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Stuffing our faces with fresh grapes and organic apples, while laughing at balloon gas = the recipe for a perfect Saturday morning.<br /><br />Happy Saturday to you!Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-53794745218249464352009-11-13T18:31:00.000-08:002009-11-13T18:40:13.002-08:00On matters of music....There are some slight differences of opinion when it comes to what music should be played in the van....<br /><br />The kids seem to think that the soundtrack from "The Nightmare Before Christmas," should be on repeat...all.the.time. I'll admit, I like that music too, but there has to be a limit...when not just Gavin, but the 2 year olds know all the words(and even the baby chimes in every once in a while) you might have listened to a song in excess.<br /><br />So I have instituted what I call 'mandatory taste enhancement...'a.k.a. something I haven't heard 500 times in the past 2 days.<br /><br />The girls are more flexible, they can be suckered in if they see me singing a long. The boys....well, they are a tougher sell....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv4Wkkv_ZuI/AAAAAAAAZDA/ovBlA2d3-64/s1600-h/DSCN1120.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sv4Wkkv_ZuI/AAAAAAAAZDA/ovBlA2d3-64/s400/DSCN1120.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403781420487239394" border="0" /></a>Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-25741144661193601302009-11-10T23:26:00.000-08:002009-11-10T23:31:30.439-08:00may the force be with you...Left over glow sticks from Halloween, some really cool music, darkness = another successful FHE activity.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx1jb64p7EB6RY6ndpy2TKb9lmSkm36ccdiJTOplW2EAb06gBzHQkATgpsSe2gLlw7MZ8FvNSv1VuBIjp8dXw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Can you hear Atticus singing in the background. The "Theme From Star Wars" is in <span style="font-style: italic;">his</span> key, and like his daddy...if it is in his key, then he <span style="font-style: italic;">has</span> to sing it at the top of his lungs!Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-42657516561131419732009-11-09T23:10:00.000-08:002009-11-09T23:17:46.198-08:00kiddie conversations...out and about in the van....<br /><br />Jane:(0ff in la la land)"Choo-choo!"<br />Gavin: "JANE! We don't say potty talk(pretty sure he thought she was saying poo poo)! You gotta go to the bathroom to say potty talk!(can you tell that he has gotten in trouble for inappropriate conversations lately?)"<br />Jane: : (oblivious)"Choo-choo!"<br />Gavin: "No Jane! No potty talk!"<br />Jane: (completely, utterly oblivious)<br />Atticus: (chiming in from the next seat up)"No...not potty talk. A joke!"Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-23265826921064267992009-11-09T21:39:00.000-08:002009-11-09T22:45:43.630-08:00Annie's world...20 months ago I got the news. First, I recognized the nausea...the last time was too recent for me not to recognize morning sickness. I'll be honest. I cried. A lot. I didn't think I was ready...but she knew better. She wasn't willing to wait till I was ready. The party was NOW and she is an important part of it. Oh is she ever an important part of it.<br /><br /><br />Weeny Witch...Isn't she aDORABLE! She is at the stage where her physical and verbal skills are exploding, and she is so proud of herself. She is the cats meow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj-8ieQjqI/AAAAAAAAYx8/jPL0RO6dzxE/s1600-h/Annie+weenie+witch.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj-8ieQjqI/AAAAAAAAYx8/jPL0RO6dzxE/s400/Annie+weenie+witch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402348069030235810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj-9EviKqI/AAAAAAAAYyE/wapfldK_HXA/s1600-h/DSCN0109.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj-9EviKqI/AAAAAAAAYyE/wapfldK_HXA/s400/DSCN0109.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402348078229498530" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This picture makes me laugh because of the story behind it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkCNJYAfZI/AAAAAAAAY0M/I-B8eRjeZDk/s1600-h/DSCN0644.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkCNJYAfZI/AAAAAAAAY0M/I-B8eRjeZDk/s400/DSCN0644.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402351652885790098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I heard her screaming in the middle of the night...and not her 'I am feeling peckish, let's nurse mommy' wail. This was a hard core angry yell. I stumble thru the darkness of her room and pick her up. The first thing I notice is the squishy wetness that meets my grasp. She is totally soaked. Her bedding is totally soaked. I am dumbfounded at the catastrophic failure of her diaper....until I lay her down on my bed and realize that she is not wearing a diaper. Have I mentioned that she has learned how to take her diaper off? Well, she has. And that night she did. And then after she fell asleep 'someone' had the gall to go and pee all over her. Boy was she ticked...and still half asleep. That is why I laugh when I see this picture. This is her after I got her in a diaper and pants. She fell back asleep immediately, but she still looked angry.<br /><br /><br />Have I mentioned she can climb?<br /><br />She can climb....<br /><br /><br />Into the toybox....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkAQF3wauI/AAAAAAAAYz8/3Shpx_Iob9A/s1600-h/DSCN0712.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkAQF3wauI/AAAAAAAAYz8/3Shpx_Iob9A/s400/DSCN0712.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402349504461564642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Into the cabinets...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_UVFWpkI/AAAAAAAAYy8/CSfBX-5ITYM/s1600-h/DSCN0368.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_UVFWpkI/AAAAAAAAYy8/CSfBX-5ITYM/s400/DSCN0368.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402348477752976962" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_U5fYUlI/AAAAAAAAYzE/Bmo6JZXem54/s1600-h/DSCN0370.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_U5fYUlI/AAAAAAAAYzE/Bmo6JZXem54/s400/DSCN0370.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402348487525814866" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Of course she doesn't just confine her self to climbing "into" the cabinets...she also spends a good part of everyday to disgorging the cabinets.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_81cci6I/AAAAAAAAYzM/IY6p0S7yrOQ/s1600-h/DSCN0373.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_81cci6I/AAAAAAAAYzM/IY6p0S7yrOQ/s400/DSCN0373.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402349173634534306" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkKfkcmshI/AAAAAAAAY0U/o5luxW3ntrM/s1600-h/DSCN0374.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkKfkcmshI/AAAAAAAAY0U/o5luxW3ntrM/s400/DSCN0374.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402360765483495954" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />...and finding things on the cabinets to continue the destruction.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkAQaqpMfI/AAAAAAAAY0E/tNuzJ2OLHNo/s1600-h/IMG01458-20091014-1338.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkAQaqpMfI/AAAAAAAAY0E/tNuzJ2OLHNo/s400/IMG01458-20091014-1338.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402349510043709938" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Oh, and she can climb on to the table....(but not off =)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_T3iZssI/AAAAAAAAYy0/UM0hLBrB3go/s1600-h/DSCN0284.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_T3iZssI/AAAAAAAAYy0/UM0hLBrB3go/s400/DSCN0284.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402348469821747906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I wonder who she learned that from?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_9iRrcfI/AAAAAAAAYzc/OPQO-A7UVW0/s1600-h/DSCN0445.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_9iRrcfI/AAAAAAAAYzc/OPQO-A7UVW0/s400/DSCN0445.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402349185668968946" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />"Are we taking pictures?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj--W55iFI/AAAAAAAAYyc/nxovCT4JjpU/s1600-h/DSCN0198.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj--W55iFI/AAAAAAAAYyc/nxovCT4JjpU/s400/DSCN0198.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402348100284680274" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />"I'm sure you just forgot to send me the memo mommy..."<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_TOlBYeI/AAAAAAAAYyk/4d54nGQ8Zrg/s1600-h/DSCN0200.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_TOlBYeI/AAAAAAAAYyk/4d54nGQ8Zrg/s400/DSCN0200.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402348458826883554" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />"Alright...I am ready for my close-up..."<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_TqxvQ7I/AAAAAAAAYys/l8ic9zxH9nQ/s1600-h/DSCN0204.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_TqxvQ7I/AAAAAAAAYys/l8ic9zxH9nQ/s400/DSCN0204.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402348466396414898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Get distracted while you're making the lunch pb&j's?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_93y9CqI/AAAAAAAAYzk/Cr1Wah-ZGP4/s1600-h/DSCN0684.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_93y9CqI/AAAAAAAAYzk/Cr1Wah-ZGP4/s400/DSCN0684.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402349191445678754" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The pitter patter of little feet sprinting away? That's cause waiting is for the little people...oh wait, I mean the big people.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_-T7op2I/AAAAAAAAYzs/LGUfXCR5Wq0/s1600-h/DSCN0686.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj_-T7op2I/AAAAAAAAYzs/LGUfXCR5Wq0/s400/DSCN0686.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402349198998284130" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And how 'bout some dessert?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkAPqglb5I/AAAAAAAAYz0/bSmY43AngQk/s1600-h/DSCN0697.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvkAPqglb5I/AAAAAAAAYz0/bSmY43AngQk/s400/DSCN0697.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402349497116618642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />She is a bundle of energy. She is in the thick of any fray, grabbing toys and squealing. Her imagination is starting to blossom. Every animal is a "goggy." and they all roar. All vehicles say "beep beep," and "too too." It would melt your heart to hear her say "Daddy!" when Kenneth gets home from work. She is opinionated, and bossy. She is sweet and snuggly. I revel in her babyhood.<br /><br /><br />She is Annie. Big Fannie Annie.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj-9xZdMzI/AAAAAAAAYyU/xNV4_BJd6Zk/s1600-h/DSCN0153.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Svj-9xZdMzI/AAAAAAAAYyU/xNV4_BJd6Zk/s400/DSCN0153.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402348090216493874" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And we LOVE her!Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-18809013168741128562009-11-09T18:55:00.000-08:002009-11-09T18:55:23.362-08:00poor, poor Atticus...<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvjWGj0aBnI/AAAAAAAAYx0/B3cUkGSmQoc/s1600-h/DSCN0941.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvjWGj0aBnI/AAAAAAAAYx0/B3cUkGSmQoc/s400/DSCN0941.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="clear:both;float:left; margin:0px 10px 10px 0;" /></a><div style='clear:both; text-align:LEFT'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-30023206548353732202009-11-09T10:59:00.000-08:002009-11-09T11:08:39.470-08:00sitting bull-ogna...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvhmrSut_QI/AAAAAAAAYxs/WydoJVq0-n8/s1600-h/DSCN0990.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/SvhmrSut_QI/AAAAAAAAYxs/WydoJVq0-n8/s400/DSCN0990.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402180646979108098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />It was "I" week at Gavin's pre-school. They built igloo's and talked about imagination, and had so much fun with the letter "I." Unfortunately Gavin had his heart set on riding home in the red car(a.k.a. with his friend) that he was pretty non cooperative for the indian photo shoot. The tube he is holding up is his rain stick. It made fun noise as it was full of beans...unfortunately it was not securely fastened at the ends and soon was spread all over the floor. This was around the same time the twins got to the letter "G" in their pre-school co op and brought home cups of dirt with grass seeds planted for their "garden." Lets just say that my vacuum cleaner got a lot of use this past week.Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-36017363778237612132009-10-28T18:57:00.000-07:002009-10-28T19:00:30.074-07:00daughter v. sisterGavin: "Hey Jane, You wanna go to the hardware store?"<br />Jane:(jumps up and down) "Yeah!"<br />Gavin: "Well, you can't."<br />Kenneth: "GAVIN! My daughters are very special to me..."<br />Gavin: "Well my sisters just take things away."Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-61434135771010079782009-10-21T13:38:00.000-07:002009-10-21T13:49:48.107-07:00emergency training...Gavin: "Mom, if you get a spider on your head you need to call 9-1-1 <span style="font-style: italic;">immediately</span>....and then...then you should call your mom and dad. You have a mom and dad, right?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/St9zMo34IbI/AAAAAAAAXMk/tEXy6NIDpAo/s1600-h/DSCN0310.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/St9zMo34IbI/AAAAAAAAXMk/tEXy6NIDpAo/s400/DSCN0310.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395157539580551602" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/St9zlW-doqI/AAAAAAAAXMs/dWd_piCogpk/s1600-h/DSCN0319.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/St9zlW-doqI/AAAAAAAAXMs/dWd_piCogpk/s400/DSCN0319.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395157964273066658" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/St9zl-HRzfI/AAAAAAAAXM0/PMBCJDQXR6c/s1600-h/DSCN0316.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/St9zl-HRzfI/AAAAAAAAXM0/PMBCJDQXR6c/s400/DSCN0316.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395157974779022834" border="0" /></a>Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-82539723455951991592009-10-19T23:11:00.000-07:002009-10-19T23:17:57.784-07:00transformers....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/St1VKdU7S9I/AAAAAAAAXIw/TF4W8u0Jzrs/s1600-h/DSCN0249.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/St1VKdU7S9I/AAAAAAAAXIw/TF4W8u0Jzrs/s400/DSCN0249.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394561566819175378" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This car is usually parked down the road from Kenneth's office. The kids have decided that it is Bumblebee from "Transformers," and I drive by it on purpose some days because they enjoy it so much. This morning as we drove past Gavin yelled, "Bumblebee! Hey Bumblebee! Transform! Bumblebee, transform! BUMBLEBEE! MOMMY! Why won't he transform?"<br /><br />The day after his birthday Gavin informed me that his name was, Underdog-speed-Gavintron. Just so you know.Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-4591641097427820602009-10-14T23:05:00.000-07:002009-10-14T23:06:28.202-07:004 years...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sta710Hfn7I/AAAAAAAAXBc/Mc0O8N9B9Rc/s1600-h/IMG01465-20091014-1354.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sta710Hfn7I/AAAAAAAAXBc/Mc0O8N9B9Rc/s400/IMG01465-20091014-1354.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392704137020284850" border="0" /></a>Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-39049154596048077712009-10-14T20:27:00.001-07:002009-10-14T20:28:48.743-07:00Her horns finally poked thru...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StaW5ouDnlI/AAAAAAAAXAk/5NVXvnHncI8/s1600-h/IMG01453-20091013-1531.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StaW5ouDnlI/AAAAAAAAXAk/5NVXvnHncI8/s400/IMG01453-20091013-1531.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392663520750050898" border="0" /></a><br />...a.k.a. her first pig tails =).Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-62054283582848085902009-10-10T13:42:00.005-07:002009-10-14T20:26:38.877-07:00Anne"Mooom! You're ruining my life!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StDx-vkIRnI/AAAAAAAAW_M/VYQjGN4y10o/s1600-h/IMG01415-20091008-1400.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StDx-vkIRnI/AAAAAAAAW_M/VYQjGN4y10o/s400/IMG01415-20091008-1400.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391074814184670834" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />"All I want is this apple! Is that so much to ask?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StDx-LSv16I/AAAAAAAAW_E/8Kl9Lerx8DE/s1600-h/IMG01411-20091008-1359.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StDx-LSv16I/AAAAAAAAW_E/8Kl9Lerx8DE/s400/IMG01411-20091008-1359.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391074804448090018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />"Ohhh, Thank you , thank you, thank you! I promise you won't regret it!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StDx9_DkS6I/AAAAAAAAW-8/8mjWdXNbmkE/s1600-h/IMG01410-20091008-1359.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StDx9_DkS6I/AAAAAAAAW-8/8mjWdXNbmkE/s400/IMG01410-20091008-1359.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391074801163193250" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Oh yeah? I already do.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StDx_AbAiPI/AAAAAAAAW_U/i0iouKCHAz8/s1600-h/IMG01418-20091008-1401.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/StDx_AbAiPI/AAAAAAAAW_U/i0iouKCHAz8/s400/IMG01418-20091008-1401.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391074818709817586" border="0" /></a>Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1711462930852909916.post-37750853851064984472009-09-12T21:20:00.003-07:002009-09-12T21:34:34.630-07:00Conversation with Atticus...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sqx1eSqzjFI/AAAAAAAATfU/vo-vmatCKd8/s1600-h/IMG01116-20090911-1831.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aomJlJ7LR_w/Sqx1eSqzjFI/AAAAAAAATfU/vo-vmatCKd8/s400/IMG01116-20090911-1831.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380804818068802642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />A: "Mommy, I hungry."<br />Me: "Well, we are going to eat soon."<br />A: "Mommy, I hungry."<br />Me: "Yes, I know."<br />A: "MOMMY, I hungry."<br />A: "Mommy, I HUNGRY.<br />A: "Mommy, I hungry...for chocolate."<br />Me: "Oh really?"<br />A: "Yes mommy, I hungry for chocolate."<br />Me: "Hmmm, I think we should eat something else."<br />A: "Mommy, I hungry for chocolate.<br />Me: "No Atticus."<br />A: "Mommy, I hungry for chocolate."<br />Me: <span style="font-style: italic;">walking away...</span><br />A: <span style="font-style: italic;">following me...</span> "Mommy, I hungry for chocolate."<br />Me: <span style="font-style: italic;">ignoring.</span><br />A: <span style="font-style: italic;">grabbing my leg.</span> "Mommy, I hungry for chocolate."<br />Me: <span style="font-style: italic;">disentangling my leg and walking away again.</span><br />A: <span style="font-style: italic;">following me...</span>"Mommy, I hungry for chocolate."<br />Me: <span style="font-style: italic;">starting to change Anne's diaper.</span><br />A: <span style="font-style: italic;">climbing up my back and sticking his face in mine.</span> "Mommy, I hungry for chocolate."<br />Me: <span style="font-style: italic;">handing him the dirty diaper,</span> "Will you put this in the trash baby?"<br />A: <span style="font-style: italic;">big grin.</span> "Yes mommy." <span style="font-style: italic;">throws diaper away. runs back.</span> "Mommy, I hungry for chocolate."<br />Me: "Go away Atticus."<br />A: "Mommy, I hungry for chocolate.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">repeat x's 30. Finally he gets distracted by a toy. 10 minutes later he comes up to me.</span><br />A: "Mommy, I hungry for...an apple."<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">repeat x's 45....in the time it takes me to cut up the apple!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Home dude has a one track mind. Once he thinks it, he stays on it...and on it...and on it.</span>Meg Barryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02664383053640228910noreply@blogger.com5