tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22077937096336231352024-03-13T00:42:59.479-04:00Leethal Weapon: Killing with CutenessBethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-19171725211309517302013-06-07T15:12:00.000-04:002013-06-07T15:12:09.376-04:00Hilarious, Awkward, PatriotismRecently I watched <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opiMHTaUEaA">this video</a> and I'm not going to lie, I laughed until I cried. Five times in a row. Watch it now. Trust me.<br />
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But as I was thinking (and still giggling) about poor, awkward Mr. Cymbals I started doing some thinking. Thinking about the general lack of patriotism and respect we see around us. Parents and kids laughing their way through the, often times painfully rendered, National Anthem at Little League games. Patrons at sporting events who can't be bothered to stop moving to their seat or remove their hats. Pop stars and their butchering of the lyrics...Christina Aguilera, you know I love you but... really?? Then I started feeling a little differently about Mr. Cymbals. Started to respect, even admire him a little.<br />
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I'll never forget in ninth grade social studies when my teacher, Mr. Beeby, decided a lesson in patriotism was in order. He was the announcer for the high school basketball games and he noticed that a few students in our class had been less than respectful during the National Anthem. He opened the dividing wall between two classrooms and blared Whitney Houston's version of "The National Anthem" until every one of the 60 students stood respectfully, hand over heart. <br />
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It was my first real inclination that not everyone had the same level of patriotism I did. Me, the military child. I shivered on the pool deck during evening colors. Twilight tattoos were considered a night of fun. I knew that holding Daddy's hand wasn't allowed if he was in uniform. Always stand on the left so his right hand side is free for salutes. And never, ever, speak or move during the National Anthem.<br />
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So, while I'll continue to laugh at my friend Mr. Cymbals, I'll also give credit where it's due. No matter how awkward, respect for the flag is worth noting. And appreciating.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-87016625545398323152012-12-29T14:54:00.000-05:002012-12-29T14:54:02.944-05:00When it Snows, Ain't it Thrillin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0RUUTBnB0TjC3hgS-iTfaPtwLw-we7b7pAt-oFn5n3Mg-OOSg9FoGpdhyAVfWRW_oClzKJvaGqw3-g-t-MWBw2jwPoVRxSS0jjvm023pl9Mjv9DFhTgHPrhJLOymjW26A3BUR5FZ6CHs/s1600/CAM00333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0RUUTBnB0TjC3hgS-iTfaPtwLw-we7b7pAt-oFn5n3Mg-OOSg9FoGpdhyAVfWRW_oClzKJvaGqw3-g-t-MWBw2jwPoVRxSS0jjvm023pl9Mjv9DFhTgHPrhJLOymjW26A3BUR5FZ6CHs/s320/CAM00333.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
We finished this cute little guy just as the late morning snow was changing to rain. A good snowy memory!<br /><br />Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-47076260496188819082012-11-19T20:12:00.003-05:002012-11-19T20:19:21.231-05:00An Important Announcement!! (And some silliness)First the announcement. After two years, 10 months, and 4 days I am pleased to announce that I <i>finally</i> only have ONE child in diapers. Hallelujah. <br />
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Now the silliness.<br />
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Wyatt's teacher is pregnant and while discussing her new baby the subject of baby names came up. I asked Wyatt what he would name a boy baby if he ever had one and he said he didn't know. I asked, "Would you name the baby Byron? Like your name, and Daddy's name, and Grandpa's name, and Great-Grandpa's name? All Byrons?"<br />
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He replied, "Yes. I think I will have Byron #5."<br />
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Owen piped up, "I am going to have Beth #6!"Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-54924711689242244552012-11-15T20:13:00.001-05:002012-11-15T20:13:07.847-05:00Hippity, HoppityThe other day Wyatt came into the kitchen with no pants proudly declaring, "Mommy. You will NEVER guess what I just found in my bottom."<br />
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He was right. <br />
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I didn't guess that he had pink Easter egg grass stuck in his crack. In November.<br />
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I also didn't guess that when I relayed the story to Byron his reaction would be, "Huh. I thought I got it all out of there yesterday."Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-8996157797807539942012-11-14T14:35:00.002-05:002012-11-14T14:35:13.345-05:00School Days<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRJ1vaF1DQ4l_9l4a_fry1fHu3ch8Dbsdj9SMYkthLRtbf_oT58i1zo2WeqgEyUzVaH84_qjJbTcQaFlzsL_LtmHd-QWbjARwKj2SX2mghsMwg4wzqSDZduTB90dM85LdK84cgE_xRYH8/s1600/6041728_orig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRJ1vaF1DQ4l_9l4a_fry1fHu3ch8Dbsdj9SMYkthLRtbf_oT58i1zo2WeqgEyUzVaH84_qjJbTcQaFlzsL_LtmHd-QWbjARwKj2SX2mghsMwg4wzqSDZduTB90dM85LdK84cgE_xRYH8/s320/6041728_orig.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fall 2011</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZlehHZZRUZqQ6wSjXtrqMHyrETfHQQ5NUZ-S9hb-UU5KjZD596BZRqxwAFju-FdIesmZkKrzmCeMFUHP6f6DefbKVq5hW51HpAij_zKQqt6uX0ktJWsxHGC6j-UY19_gPXovJQMpuEM8/s1600/6108496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZlehHZZRUZqQ6wSjXtrqMHyrETfHQQ5NUZ-S9hb-UU5KjZD596BZRqxwAFju-FdIesmZkKrzmCeMFUHP6f6DefbKVq5hW51HpAij_zKQqt6uX0ktJWsxHGC6j-UY19_gPXovJQMpuEM8/s320/6108496.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring 2012</td></tr>
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Wyatt has his school picture taken last week. He insisted that he needed to wear a tie because it was "handsome day." He then wore the tie the rest of the day. Even while playing in a pile of leaves. After I got this year's proof, I went back through to find his photos from last year. He's growing up so quickly! (Also, my love of the color green is evident in looking at these photos.)<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0cw3PcUMMt9CYSl1rqKIUiqXpJq0IMEyhjCR5FCZzK9BjSCZYvXHxxDdDvlSql6FE_f4AtbMZywyu0iD0ZBX4Xtp8tfq3rEReRElXWUlKNMdXGHYMK2xDvk38bkop_Ht4MwH8go0bauJ/s1600/1861438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0cw3PcUMMt9CYSl1rqKIUiqXpJq0IMEyhjCR5FCZzK9BjSCZYvXHxxDdDvlSql6FE_f4AtbMZywyu0iD0ZBX4Xtp8tfq3rEReRElXWUlKNMdXGHYMK2xDvk38bkop_Ht4MwH8go0bauJ/s400/1861438.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-Kindergarten, Fall 2012</td></tr>
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<br />Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-91537497978281817442012-11-13T11:35:00.003-05:002012-11-13T14:43:05.785-05:00A Farewell to FacebookLet me start by saying I love Facebook. Love it. I love keeping up with friends and family far and near. I love seeing sweet baby pictures. I love hearing good news about upcoming weddings, happy new relationships, exciting job promotions. But, it is time for Facebook and me to part ways... at least for a little while.<br />
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For starters, my self-worth has become too reliant on what I see on Facebook. Comparing myself to other moms for one thing. Comparing my kids to other kids. Wondering why I'm not as crafty as so and so. Why another child potty trained in a week while it took me a year. Does it matter? And why do I care so much how a distant "friend" who I likely wouldn't even go out of my way to say hello to should I see them in the grocery store is raising his or her children? Teddy said it best (Insert Washington Nationals fan shout-out to Teddy and his end of season winning streak here) "Comparison is the thief of joy." <br />
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Then there's the "like" factor. Why did no one "like" that? Wondering was it not clever enough, was I too proud of something inconsequential, did they not look as cute in that picture as I thought? Enough! It is crazy how important that little red box can become.<br />
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My worth as a mother is found in my children's eyes. My worth as a wife in the eyes of my husband. My worth as a human being found in those I come in face-to-face contact with. Does it matter how witty I am in writing when I am too busy checking Facebook on my phone to have a real life interaction with the man bagging my groceries? And my worth in all aspects of life, of who I inherently am and who I'm striving to be, should be found in God not a tiny little "thumbs up."<br />
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Then there's the relationship aspect. I will say, Facebook is great for an introvert like me. No need to make uncomfortable small talk with people as I already know all the basics (and oftentimes more) from what I read of life as told by Facebook. But how many intentional relationships do I have? How much planning and effort goes into friendships? Honestly, not a lot. I don't often ask people how they're doing because I feel like I "know" based on what I see. But how many inner struggles do we have that don't go onto the Internet? That we're waiting for someone to just take a minute and ask. How deep can my friendships go when they're limited to the surface level of how we present ourselves online? News flash: My kids are not cute all the time. Facebook is a highlight reel and if that's all we know of those around us it is a superficial relationship indeed.<br />
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Then there's the time factor. I think for anyone who uses Facebook that one is pretty self-explanatory.<br />
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Let me just say, I'm not judging. Facebook can be awesome. This is just me.<br />
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You can keep up with us here. My fabulous children will no doubt continue being fabulous with or without Facebook and I'll try to keep up with blogging all about them. Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-51212739320433309112012-06-11T22:19:00.000-04:002012-06-11T22:24:29.053-04:00Lost Time, Stolen Joy, Borrowed Trouble<div class="post-header">
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Ray Montagne and I are kindred spirits. You know, “Worry, worry, worry, worry, worry;
Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone.”
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I found out I was pregnant again when Owen was 8 months old. I worried.
What would happen? How would I
survive this curveball? Would the boys
resent me, the baby? Worry.</div>
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At the 20 week ultrasound we found out we were having a
girl. I worried. How will I survive puberty? (I remember my thirteen-year-old self—I have plenty
to dread.) Worry.</div>
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Then, the ultrasound technician called for the
radiologist. Said some measurements
weren’t quite right. I worried. What will he say when he comes in the
room? What is the matter with this girl
who I now want more fiercely than I ever could have imagined? Worry.</div>
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Our baby girl’s head measurements aren’t right. Her brain might not be developing
appropriately. We’ll have a follow
up. I worried. Will she be okay? Will she live? Will she be disabled? Worry.</div>
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Many follow-ups, all the same. Something is off with the head. Not sure what it is. Could be nothing, don’t worry. I worried.
Worry, worry, worry, worry, worry, worry…</div>
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Final follow up. 36
weeks pregnant. Little girl is too little. Only 4 pounds, 2 ounces. Ma’am have you heard of IUGR? Are you delivering at INOVA Fairfax, they
have a great NICU? I worried. Oh, how I worried.</div>
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Four days later I was in the hospital as Anna Kate was
making her hasty arrival, 3 weeks early.
The heart rate monitor stopped beeping.
Did a more invasive monitor and discovered her heart was stopping with
every contraction. No time to
worry. Anna Kate arrived. She didn’t cry and so I worried. </div>
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She was perfect. All
6 pounds, 3 ounces of her was perfect.
Even her beautiful round head.
All that worry for nothing. </div>
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A week later a little scratch by her eye. Contrary to my nature, I didn’t worry.</div>
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The scratch didn’t go away.
Someone in passing mentioned that their daughter had had a hemangioma “just
like that” when she was a baby. I googled
hemangiomas. I worried.</div>
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Referred to a pediatric ophthalmologist who decided to
closely monitor her eye for several months.
The hemangioma could grow behind her eye and impair her vision. I worried.
What if she’s blind? What if she
has to have surgery? Worry.</div>
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A year later she’s discharged from ophthalmology with a
clean bill of health and perfect eye sight.
All that worry for nothing.</div>
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The same day, qualification for early intervention services
due to significant gross motor skill delays.
I worried. What had I done
wrong? Is something physically wrong
with her? Why didn’t I catch this
sooner? Worry.</div>
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Two weeks later my amazing girl pulled out all the
stops. Showed off every trick she knew
and then some. She had progressed from
the motor skills of a 9 month old to those of an 11 month old in two weeks. All that worry for nothing.</div>
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Lost
time, stolen joy, borrowed troubles. A work in progress.
I’m learning. Slowly. Thankful that I’m being taught this tough
lesson in the form of the sweetest baby girl. And grateful, so
grateful, that she is being proven time and again, despite my lack of
faith, to be a miracle. More than I ever hoped for and certainly a
blessing more than I deserve.<br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are
here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you.
Why do you have so little faith?
-Matthew 6:30</span></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-50985861208827734472010-03-16T09:41:00.002-04:002010-03-16T09:50:16.252-04:00I love clutter!I'm having a strange day. I'm looking around at the chaos and mess of my house and feeling so incredibly blessed. I know, you're thinking I've gone off the deep end. <br /><br />The bills piled up on the kitchen counters. The "necessities" of course: water, gas, electricity, mortgage. But other things too that we don't need but are blessed to have the resources to afford.<br /><br />Toys are EVERYWHERE. It means my child is healthy and able to play. Can a mother ask for much more than that for her child?<br /><br />Byron's dirty socks are right next to the laundry basket. A sign that someone lives in this house with me and I'm not doing this whole parenting thing alone.<br /><br />The dishwasher is running but there are still dishes piled high in the sink. First, we have a dishwasher can I get an AMEN! Second, we have the resources to feed ourselves and use those dishes.<br /><br />And, as ever, the dirty clothes overfloweth.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-41337198912712618632010-03-15T08:25:00.002-04:002010-03-15T08:33:23.679-04:00Officially Potty TrainingWyatt will be two in a week and we've begun potty training this morning. He has been awake for about an hour and we've already had our first accident! Woo Hoo! In all honesty I don't have a clue what I'm doing. I have a Costco size bag of M & Ms and stickers as incentives but other than that I'm pretty much in the dark about how to train a boy. I've never been one to read parenting books (for many reasons) but I'm now wishing I had at least looked at a potty book. Oh well, live and learn.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-55564034555580954622010-03-12T16:22:00.003-05:002010-03-12T16:34:48.605-05:00Don't you hate it when......you go to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer and realize that you got distracted somewhere along the way and forgot to close the lid on the washer? As if laundry is not tedious enough it just prolongs the entire arduous process. Not many things frustrate me more than seeing those soggy clothes sitting in 2 feet of soapy water just as dirty as they were an hour earlier. It happens almost daily. Gingko Biloba perhaps?Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-42491168734329588472010-02-28T20:11:00.002-05:002010-02-28T20:20:08.715-05:00Smarty PantsThis morning Wyatt was doing something he shouldn't. Surprising, I know. We are currently employing the "Count of 3" method. As in, "If you don't stop what you're doing by the time I get to three..." <br /><br />I heard Byron in the living room. "Wyatt!! Stop!! One....Two...Three..." Then an angelic little voice yelled, "FOUR!"<br /><br />Hard to be mad at a genius.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-54915087496770596942010-02-26T07:57:00.007-05:002010-02-26T08:14:18.633-05:00Introducing: Owen William!I feel like Owen didn't get the fanfare he deserved upon his arrival. So he will be getting it now. Six weeks late is better than not at all!<br /><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442537232378086978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfuXUhYCiS_-9fZOJV5B9aERDVbeJRs9hwyZ4ALjrtD91dED8kLGaa9F6bGqd5qDBByqIV59j4R6nNJkgTqYvNy5h9M79ZKp69KiVcSQVxmJy6H0ue94rxgCExfGTmdahWu_UQAXzdHVh/s400/017.JPG" />Owen on his birthday. He was born at 1:58 a.m. January 15 weighing 7 lbs. 8 oz.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442538017557928706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGbV4DaBsu5z6-xWT-iiNjEByzvhxMDXZtIlXc66Im8j-NUWg-5BgKlLJjAxirgb8tWr2jmuRHQc22-CgtMFkIqlU3MH3Z4ax4vEBkujGSVzNmyZIuxzdom97S9b1bLU7FOvJKUISOQ3WQ/s400/004.JPG" />Owen at 6 weeks. Such a sweet little boy.<br /><br /><div align="left">Owen is a really laid back little guy. He didn't really have a choice with Wyatt Knievel for a brother! Owen is content to just hang out in his swing or on the couch most of the time. The only time I have heard him really cry was right after he was born. When he wants to eat he just grunts. He eats a LOT! I think he has figured out that eating = Mommy's attention.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">He's a sweet little guy and we love him!</div></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-2537964198461613432010-02-22T17:52:00.003-05:002010-02-22T18:06:52.969-05:00Tired of Updating my Facebook Status Every 30 Seconds...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQjEXCNGCGpduJYp6fbiLMokN92_KN-sawXSzK-v4Kr-Gugs1MTcQoAkeS1sT0wLbMYCuLOEDE3V24E1kY739uuxgzuHWaMYLr_DAhGHKG0-WrjuxUglWh0QFSf6O-RcbPcLfWM2OX6Bz9/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441208134052432002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQjEXCNGCGpduJYp6fbiLMokN92_KN-sawXSzK-v4Kr-Gugs1MTcQoAkeS1sT0wLbMYCuLOEDE3V24E1kY739uuxgzuHWaMYLr_DAhGHKG0-WrjuxUglWh0QFSf6O-RcbPcLfWM2OX6Bz9/s400/008.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQM0pPmMiY-o3lfIdOy7w3z85A-3sof48VZy-nnN2IkKD484Qw7OihN0m-Y3cjt2Nv5pNiXmiVsg6MGArkqZtvtaqNB0tFXdwDeNfCTRV7C9rPg93zfFrH-gah6WmWN4RpBNBHvgXceJT/s1600-h/015.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441207791799934946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQM0pPmMiY-o3lfIdOy7w3z85A-3sof48VZy-nnN2IkKD484Qw7OihN0m-Y3cjt2Nv5pNiXmiVsg6MGArkqZtvtaqNB0tFXdwDeNfCTRV7C9rPg93zfFrH-gah6WmWN4RpBNBHvgXceJT/s400/015.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>On the off chance that you follow my blog but aren't my Facebook friend a lot has happened since I last wrote. We have a new baby named Owen who was born January 15. He is the spitting image of Wyatt which brings me to the purpose of this missive: The child is driving me INSANE.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I just found a bowl and a set of measuring spoons in the trashcan. Seeing as Byron is at work, Owen cannot move on his own, and the dog lacks opposable thumbs all signs point to WYATT. The child is into everything. I know that comes with the territory of an almost two but coupled with the sleep deprivation a newborn brings my patience is tried terribly. (I mistyped that "tired" originally and considered leaving it because it is also a true statement!)</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>He has also discovered that he can climb. And so he does. Onto the back of the couch, off the side of the couch, up the stairs, down the stairs. He has bruises everywhere as merit badges for his feats of courage. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Another favorite is hiding things. Usually under the couch. He then crawls under to retrieve them and screams in a truly panic stricken voice, "STUCK! WY WY STUCK!" He is rarely actually stuck but it is a sure fire way to get Mommy to come running. I think there is a method to his madness as he is usually "stuck" when I'm busy with his brother.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>And yet, with all the frustration he causes, I can't help but love the little stinker. I guess that is what Motherhood is all about. </div></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-77051149526790426942009-02-25T11:12:00.002-05:002009-02-25T11:15:43.308-05:00RidiculousThe following jusr occurred. Wyatt pulled his changing pad and wipes onto the floor. He the crawled over to me with a diaper in his mouth, laid down, and put his legs up in the air. Shall I begin potty training my ELEVEN MONTH OLD?????!!!!Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-76907350879498948892009-02-11T09:43:00.006-05:002009-02-11T10:33:57.038-05:00An Update, Finally!The masses have spoken. They want more of Team Leeth.<br /><br />Reasons why I haven't posted:<br /><br />1) I now have a full fledged terror on my hand. Climbing stairs, scaling the walls of his play pen, chasing the dog, taking steps, TERROR! This is occupying a good deal of my time.<br />2) I am trying to lose some weight and am now donating Wyatt's nap time to exercising. I am feeling better already!<br />3) My New Year's Resolution was to have a house that is always ready for visitors (expected or not!). Meaning, I am spending what time I am not exercising cleaning! Living in a tidier house is also making me a happier lady!<br /><br />And now, post excuses, a Wyatt update!<br /><br />Wyatt's Words:<br />MaMa<br />DaDa<br />Dogga (This is Charley, our dog)<br />NaNaNa (This is no)<br />Ba Ba (bottle)<br />Ga DaDa (Grandaddy, my dad)<br />Hi<br />Hey<br />Buh Buh (Bye-Bye)<br /><br />I think this is pretty impressive for a not yet 11-month old!<br /><br />He is also crawling like crazy, able to stand for about 30 seconds unassisted, and he can take one step before falling over! I don't know, is this normal? Am I bragging about my amazing baby for nothing?!<br /><br />He also does Patty-Cake, claps along to Bingo, and dances like crazy (see the video above!)<br /><br /><div><div><div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">Now some family photos!</div><div align="center"> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301562342167753874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Jy_MFaaupkUxYtMp785WPsJ5axMnJy6XbSYK4BPnEJy7XxJCdUC6swTnnY660cVZ6D_fwvuRLA-6GOZ_YAYerCR5lfiZyeX_Pkz_nLOFT15vwE9oBmgJ_YiliWYMXv33Ax60YA0g67fs/s400/wingard+303.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301559436362628482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyiCZOa_LxlWcvsG1JyrsMgMjHnYlpkvEUyIZrTLFaI_DZfNw5Z2Xj04nHxSo5pGODFkzZUIuPMOeA_odkYdWDdcORzB_QbsOsajZ_KeMlSEIw8uobS9WAeojrpwQahUFSWclOZY1TIhs0/s400/wingard+335.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301559431352539682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8bWmGchsCZbrJxeYZTBuvge96z2e4DSgU8ls3_nWCUngkjZv4i-F7gVumsw4f3TUB80Oaev1HQ8LnU3u1ilvVfKzBqexJb9OYYZrwIxeLfdVf8zhDKd7rd_riU87KRxhb3CxDgo2-wuR/s400/wingard+381.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301559425662421938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiomVCK8dG5PcK0D6MpnosiMXrTwlQPvMkRee5agzU2hTn06EPJHpf_PuKbVKZc84qVoP-Hb9zixe3TKH8Lilo9KKi6SiNibGXYATqNA-MASZ1sLx3oWEE2RdJG0CBX7NlZqq_Vk3Z6yHcJ/s400/wingard+647.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301562368661285218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPMcxDf5c2CneRolVV2tUiRsz9aU5DdMSocIetbDYSTY4Q3NioNLUfgLiumS01e9yCtH-gacAqtxWbFFJVAEW1Lec3021eVD_zRLF55cvnJSir_X6QJ6eIDyxocTZlw7GHiXWaE9VFWJ0/s400/Leeth+355.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301562360914888130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcomZgoeprl0n6OFLAYFJ5iVzgStH5xkt0r1NQpp4slIq_DwJZrIW87Mddo7DHsoZCrCUsejBTBVqUrzrAsNgeunljPm4oMOSk8Vdo8gK3xKmFSwXdpuZb93myCthTJRwsda_lrP0k6O65/s400/Leeth+468.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301562356448793074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxg8cicWh0wZwJVgYaMxYUMXiF0Boa4PHNbmjUrNIDQfnVD6tPcxgHpCzjUO9-aV48vyvELQx5IE3BJDAGXvxe_oHrSU72Tpx3DdGKoVzhGZDw6nWznhp6CeS2vC_MekaDTJ3WUDEtX36/s400/wingard+761.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301562346123743010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qn39I2KSyeGGfpV4d1uf1jRIwfk6ARAm7uUsSqlmKu4dDfqcMJBfw1j3ydsyRdPl8Xp6P76qLFezQo6EAFEZlzvNv37Bf5DnV9vtYII5kEGJW6Ni1B-KG5f4YWmL0aynA3mEvpEPo0eU/s400/Leeth+697.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div> </div></div></div></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-15248598732121171992009-01-14T09:55:00.000-05:002009-01-14T09:58:02.404-05:00HA!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WPYZuRdREj7m6WKYuRhssgfsHBqGyrrzFZGI9sMtauz6-rt26UdakD-EjOxNOvkEFmSM10lGpk1E0h1jGjqrz1qdhrIenkL3vVq3-TC8t5Vr0SFjP9iRzARJOXdI8uHECpkpY5Jw4WC_/s1600-h/n1372291139_717131_5552.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291163656401324930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WPYZuRdREj7m6WKYuRhssgfsHBqGyrrzFZGI9sMtauz6-rt26UdakD-EjOxNOvkEFmSM10lGpk1E0h1jGjqrz1qdhrIenkL3vVq3-TC8t5Vr0SFjP9iRzARJOXdI8uHECpkpY5Jw4WC_/s400/n1372291139_717131_5552.jpg" border="0" /></a> Wyatt and his cousin Payton.<br /><br /></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-85965397799145063322009-01-09T10:18:00.003-05:002009-01-09T10:34:33.970-05:00It will be a miracle......if the child makes it to his first birthday.<br /><br />Has it been established that Wyatt is a daring one? Well. He is. Actually, my mother-in-law calls him "payback." Why is it that sons are payback for all the ridiculous things their FATHER put their MOTHER through??? So really, Byron's impish behavior as a child has no repercussions for him but I am rewarded for my angelic childhood with a son who rivals Evil Knievil!<br /><br />The following happened in a 2 hour span yesterday:<br /><br />1) Wyatt was sitting in his highchair eating Cheerios and I turned to put something in the oven. When I turned back around he was STANDING in his high chair and leaning over the back of it!!! Lesson here: The high chair cover (with attached safety straps) cannot be washed and allowed to "air-dry" ever again or my son will kill himself.<br /><br />2) We were giving Wyatt his bath and he decided to play Peek-a-Boo. Wyatt typically plays Peek-a-Boo by going face down into the bed, floor, blanket...wherever we happen to be sitting he just does a little face plant. How do you think that turned out in the tub?! With me screaming, "BYRON HE'S GOING TO DROWN!" Then the kid popped himself right back up grinning and laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever done in his life.<br /><br />So here is a warning Wyatt's future wife: Your sons will be holy terrors. Start looking at military schools.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-82900547163576106802009-01-06T13:36:00.003-05:002009-01-06T15:36:32.736-05:00Test ResultsWe just got the results from Wyatt's bloodwork that was done last week and he is in fact anemic. He has to go on an iron supplement. The doctor recommended mixing it with juice. Now I just have to convince him to like juice.<br /><br />My dad suffered severe anemia through a portion of my adolesence so when I first got the results (Mind you they were just a bunch of numbers with no word from the doctor yet about what they meant or what I should do) I asked dear old Dad to interpret them for me.<br /><br />His response:<br /><br />"Everything seems to be pretty normal except for the HEMATOCRIT is a little low, which can indicate low iron intake, and the RBC is on the bottom end of normal. They are not too far out of range though, so it certainly doesn’t indicate severe anemia like I had, or even moderate anemia. But my best guess is that it might indicate that Wyatt’s iron intake is a little low. My understanding is that this might be somewhat normal for infants when they are going through rapid growth spurts.<br /><br />Bottom line: I have a cesspool of knowledge, but I’m not an MD. Call your Doctor and ask if you need to do anything different than what you are already doing (I think you are using the formula with an iron supplement already). She may just tell you to continue with that."<br /><br />UPDATE: Upon hearing the recommendations of the doctor my dad replied, "I concur with Dr. Eley. Based on my review of the lab work I recommend the same treatment. Feel free to send me the results of the repeat blood work in 2-3 months and I will let you know how he is progressing."Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-74417285824825903182009-01-06T11:25:00.002-05:002009-01-06T11:50:18.377-05:00We Gotta Get Out of This PlaceNot just a song by The Animals but apparently my son's new mantra as well.<br /><br />The following all occurred yesterday:<br /><br />1) I put Wyatt in his "baby cage" so I could use the restroom. When I came back he had pushed one of his toys to the edge of pen and was standing on it attempting to climb out. <br /><br />2) While I was making dinner, Wyatt was taking a bath in the sink. This generally works really well because he LOVES baths so it keeps him occupied while I get things ready and I am able to keep an eye on him. However, last night he leaned over the side of the tub that sits in the sink and attempted to stand up and get out. I have video of this but I don't know how to put that on here. If you want to see it ask. It is shocking.<br /><br />3) After his bath, I took him down to the basement and was changing him on our downstairs changing table. The changing table is attached to a pack n play...one of those space saving all in one things we got when we were still living in our 500 sq foot 1 bedroom apartment (SO glad that is over!) He was tossing back and forth and rolling all around as he always does when I am trying to get a diaper on him. All of a sudden he was (still naked) on hands and knees and halfway off the changing table, leaning into the pack 'n play reaching for a toy. I grabbed him by the ankles before he hurtled himself onto his head.<br /><br />This is why 9-month-olds, who have no sense of DANGER, should be immobile.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-89032513007950184422008-12-31T09:43:00.002-05:002008-12-31T09:54:20.160-05:00Nine Month Stats!Yesterday I took Wyatt for his 9 month well baby check.<br /><br />Weight: 18 lbs, 10 oz. (17th percentile)<br />Height: 28 1/2 inches (56th percentile)<br />Head Circumference: I don't remember (80th percentile)<br /><br />Does anyone see how strange this is? Normally all of your percentiles should be around the same. Since Wyatt is underweight, and has actually lost weight since we were in a couple of weeks ago, they wanted to run a test for anemia. That was about as fun as herding cats. Wyatt was a charmer as always smiling at the blood tech and jabbering right up until the point she stuck him. They pricked his little finger and he didn't cry! He did keep growling at the technician as I literally held him down while she filled the vial drop by drop by drop. I think it took about 20 minutes to collect the sample. My dear son is a mover and a shaker so there was blood everywhere. Perhaps in the future they should consider sedating the baby and the mommy!<br /><br />Anyway, we are waiting for the results of that. Hopefully everything is normal. I think his weight is down a bit as a result of the stomach flu but I guess I'm glad the doctor is cautious. She said everything else looked good and that he was very advanced and intelligent and beautiful. As though I didn't already know all of these things!Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-79130615586509163882008-12-30T10:39:00.004-05:002008-12-30T12:01:36.017-05:00Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas...<div align="left">Despite going to bed relatively late for a little guy, around 10ish, Wyatt is apparently already programmed to get up at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day. How do kids just seem to know that this is "Toy Day"? Once a reasonable amount of time had passed we called my parents to come on over for Christmas breakfast. That morning's specialty at Cafe Leeth was grits and sausage casserole. So delicious but so bad for you. But in the spirit of Christmas...yum!<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285610003579735218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguiuWkLaVqTAf8gatKKxNXE69e8uYUgkQbOG3fuHMa2E3wwjl_LXBk2ZOAwkr2M4ESDiVBsG8LbY_loFY3jitiT3fOMZauJJ5xd3H5OQJmHbn3kTT5uM4Pj5JPYXe9XRDPoMaPeSp8CYJA/s400/wingard+866.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;">"Ho Ho Ho"</span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="left">Wyatt really liked all of the shiny and apparently delicious paper as his main delight on Christmas Day was eating the wrapping. </p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285610017315752210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7XtnwMaK2t_aB1-zNItSYZhiiaKjjJKeh8g0JlH38IkXBCLFwEQdhUqFQTBDaDJGoYQvBGzhwjDt7ff3ErRVdaU7tJDZe_3HItYdLuhUtrc4nfy127xsA-wTLBRZJI32efJ15T0Pbtdn/s400/Leeth+714.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;">"Wyatt Claus and Elf"</span></p><p align="left">All that unwrapping really tired the boy out so he took a nice long nap and Byron and I enjoyed several cups of coffee and the relative peace between celebrations. And I read my new book almost in its entirety. Byron got me the Jon & Kate Plus 8 book. Let me tell you if you've never watched that show that she is INSANE. Beyond insane actually. I didn't know if that craziness would translate into print but it definitely did. So ridiculously awesome.</p><p align="left">When Wyatt awoke, we headed over to my parents to see Wyatt's best buddy, Baby Judah! Grandaddy and Grandmom gave the boys lots of fun toys. Including the amazing "Bounce and Spin Pony."</p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVC_wlOb-I3qDpQH9YSJeZeM9fkIEYIlmRKHb1SLBv_NW2O6yuNI5tGtYQUtDw_Vw0T7DO_F6E4wtbi4hMS-YfyGYbmE6yfVfKzV9ToCrMKK4bPSpZw0xAI6T-QW8a5Zbx7XE4C98thXNI/s1600-h/wingard+885.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285610834116394306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVC_wlOb-I3qDpQH9YSJeZeM9fkIEYIlmRKHb1SLBv_NW2O6yuNI5tGtYQUtDw_Vw0T7DO_F6E4wtbi4hMS-YfyGYbmE6yfVfKzV9ToCrMKK4bPSpZw0xAI6T-QW8a5Zbx7XE4C98thXNI/s400/wingard+885.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">"Future Blackmail"</span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="left">You may be thinking, "My Wyatt Claus, how you've changed!" Wyatt was so kind and let Judah borrow his Santa suit. You may not have noticed this but Judah is a big boy and Wyatt...well he just isn't. The reindeer outfit is 6 months and the Santa suit is 12 months. It was pretty much process of elimination which boy would wear what for the cutest Christmas photos ever.</p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOP4QHHBwZtJqe5aHsYyBW8TXPf9JJYZwduwRg27L0kd-t2In3riBC4-5a-7lBs7YqUTUHvXUC-9Opv-p_gTe_DLwX2TZFxtK_ZKBo2EPSvPD23kFB29dhlxwpIVSvlt2qwB0dhBYBmw2G/s1600-h/wingard+897.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285610031514923490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOP4QHHBwZtJqe5aHsYyBW8TXPf9JJYZwduwRg27L0kd-t2In3riBC4-5a-7lBs7YqUTUHvXUC-9Opv-p_gTe_DLwX2TZFxtK_ZKBo2EPSvPD23kFB29dhlxwpIVSvlt2qwB0dhBYBmw2G/s400/wingard+897.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> "Judah Claus and his tiny reindeer"</span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">Christmas night we headed out to Fairfax to see Byron's parents and his grandma. They were still a little stomach fluish and Wyatt was Christmased out so we didn't stay long. Long enough to say "Ho, Ho, Ho" and home we went.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="left">On the 26th, which George W. Bush graciously declared a federal holiday (thanks W), we had a vet appointment for the pupster and then planned the make-up Christmas celebration with the Leeths. For some unknown reason I volunteered to make potato soup for dinner that evening. Why? Why? Why? After peeling a million potatos and mashing a million potatos and cutting a million onions and frying a million pounds of bacon my kitchen was a disaster and we were late for dinner. Ay carumba... But the soup. It was delicious. So delicious. Worth the effort and the kitchen disaster which dear Byron cleaned up!</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285610846156423954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmyDGIv4NYJM-Y9ZBT7WS4cRlybVvy62tQaD5Mf8TrP5uHsl2hAH3jxyqH31q_iAzrVfpmRssW5aET-e1LRo3zV0O_Xr8-R9RDnCgtoPJrTgO_3HjlLkghQftM5I9TQ2rKr___T91FBEz/s400/Leeth+721.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">"Aunt Erin and Wyatt"</span><br /><br /></p><p align="left">Byron's sister Erin has basically declared payback in all the gifts she gives Wyatt. When our nephew Payton was born in March of 2006 we made it out duty to find the loudest, most annoying toys known to man. Now Wyatt is receiving equally loud toys. In fact, his favorite gift of the whole lot is a train that drives around the house droppig balls out of the back. Guess who gets to wrestle the dog for the balls? ME! Thanks Aunt Erin and Uncle Kenny! Though Wyatt's squeals of glee as he crawls behind the train are totally worth my new role as dog wrestler.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285609986414453394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp4L-a1R7eFcNRdKx80-5isB7o1U8AzLWclMRRKkvhBTJPK5UY4kdOWR3c-GUNaS6soZIJXsiPdQOiiU9w304YsTAj5e10Hy6wMZV1IJqcAd7rTmiahb-GZLMyE2Oz7MrsWldfLKhyzT6n/s400/Leeth+729.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">"Choo-Choooo!"</span><br /><br /></p><p align="left">Satrurday morning was splent cleaning and generally preparing for Byron's family to come out to our house. The whole gang came by and Payton informed Erin that he would like a baby cage full of toys like Wyatt has. The noise volume of all Wyatt's new toys being operated at once was through the roof yet Wyatt slept through it all!</p><p align="left">Finally, Sunday arrived. Our second wedding anniversary! After church, my parents came over for lunch (leftover potato soup, of course) and took Wyatt home with them. Later they took the Water Taxi over to National Harbor to see the Christmas decorations at the Convention Center</p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-IjPykV8agxbg_E0feIlRaZrgmVLXF9vRNqJjdqJaNfq8htN1iCFuidDvWa4G1rS5BGaHmK-vSv8V7ptiDoZt1old1tdM_5u8KxeQX8E_miHTKcEQ_8-z7CatUYcS2-XIAqIqR0mZVGl8/s1600-h/wingard+908.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285609998775779106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-IjPykV8agxbg_E0feIlRaZrgmVLXF9vRNqJjdqJaNfq8htN1iCFuidDvWa4G1rS5BGaHmK-vSv8V7ptiDoZt1old1tdM_5u8KxeQX8E_miHTKcEQ_8-z7CatUYcS2-XIAqIqR0mZVGl8/s400/wingard+908.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">"Wyatt's Night Out"</span></div><br /><p>Meanwhile, back home I was having a most glorious afternoon! I actually got to take a bath and no one demanded my attention. It was fabulous. THEN, I took a nap. How wonderful. At 6 o'clock I woke up from my 2 1/2 hour snooze (I told you, glorious afternoon) and got dressed for dinner. We went to Carlyle and got an appetizer AND dessert because it was our anniversary! Byron had received a gift card so we really felt like we could order whatever we wanted. With me choosing to stay home with Wyatt we really have to watch our money so it was really nice to be able to go out that night and not be worried about just ordering whatever was cheapest. I did drink water though...old habits die hard.</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285627140530602626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9sxQn2WU2gTfS1nFZHVCN3SglI9ZeJtUwWKJJkbmjgllqOZ8e_-Xg_Bac2hbI-w7-YsJrVi2T6wio4-VVbQQqK6YOTOjTKJDPe7xyKb_wxhBZGti7g6kocZXz0_SY1-IhGsIeysjry2Og/s400/wingard+005.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">"Christmas 2006"</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285627145811095554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuUDMgPKRY2DYrHK3-n2kmobm5zOsJprO4fv79B73Nv8dBb5dnu_j7uxDyWLSrVbU4_oSc2NPLiJVmotjeglVGolzVUAWi7vhoN1R0UG6f4F5MG39wIti3En1PQvGw4MgTcXh0wXJQOal/s400/wingard+820.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">"Christmas 2008"</span></p>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-27817098522025723102008-12-29T13:20:00.007-05:002008-12-29T23:08:12.570-05:00'Twas the Night Before Christmas...The week of Christmas is very busy for most of America and especially so for the Leeths this year! Now some catching up.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285424113308725826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hDMGok-XMeIn3upBdgrawQSv_7xaUbWdX4Vxb0MF8WJTWMUTmeIzQdojiUHVbcxJ4FnWQ_0dMm1IlL-G6xnOmnMDm9fysjU24Lvnw4n9K5ZydIzBSPjDurmo_ENiiwbc95f8CDe2h_KH/s400/wingard+835.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">"Wyatt Claus"</span><br /><br /></p>As mentioned in my previous post we had the stomach flu. We had it bad. We were all feeling back to normalish by the 21st aka the Saturday before Christmas so we decided it would be an AWESOME idea to take Wyatt to see Santa.<br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285279820180846962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6aadsCGRxtIejf_oQjmWzZv08tL_MrXtbY4nq4XKe46xfJbnFfbkyItjCzFxePvey4mueaXSNI492CYAI4-muLNBC_eBJ1q8QPs2NrI2zMSyVnwrxYLm_nfW8cA3vNZQmzPfe_TJr_oQ3/s400/Leeth+666.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;">"Waiting for Santa"</span><br /></div><br />Here are Byron and Wyatt in the 2+ hour long line. If I had a scanner I would scan the photo of Wyatt and Santa. Just as well. Santa looks annoyed and Wyatt looks terrified. This is cuter.<br /><br />On Sunday we went to church. Wyatt looooves going to church because he has so many admirers and people are more than willing to hold him provided they can fight off his Grandaddy.<br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285280959659667986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9H2jYi_pqvkAdnbbdjlub6FqjzvSPPEeVQXcrY7aMCP7feujesOi1GJsOckaUnBOeDcR9A2dlJCvfKc1G9r2h-agoJTrKMxVZ3PNT1iMIrHc95j3Eg9LarHjzYgXdWwjI6H-qzVZGYx-/s400/Leeth+667.jpg" border="0" /> <span style="font-size:78%;">"Cuteness begins with a 'W'"</span><br /></p><br />Sunday was also Wyatt's 9 month birthday. We celebrated with popcorn shrimp from Red Lobster. YUM! Later that evening, we went out to Midland to visit with Byron's sister. Midland is about 2 miles south of the middle of nowhere. The directions to the house ACTUALLY include the phrase, "Turn right at the silo painted like an ear of corn." You also pass a barn with a dancing cow painted on the side of it. I love it. After watching the Redskins game we loaded up the cars and headed to the Bull Run Festival of lights. I had never done anything like that and was suitably impressed.<br /><br />Monday night was spent frantically with the masses at a most dreaded place. Springfield Mall. I soo hate shopping. I soooo hate Springfield Mall. I soooooooo hate crowds. It was a personal nightmare.<br /><br />Tuesday it was BACK TO THE MALL. EWWW. This time I went in the middle of the day and it was not so terrible. Wyatt and I and a little 5-year-old friend of ours rode the merry go round. (This sounds creepyish but it really is not! I used to babysit this little girl about 20 hours a week when I was in grad school at George Mason. She was 2 then and now she is actually in kindergarten! I hope time does not go this fast with my own child...ay de mi.) Then we came home and made Christmas cookies for Santa. Wyatt thoroughly enjoyed having someone to get into his "baby cage" and play with him.<br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285282980567396962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIjfe-fb7r0dVjlGviTJ_-k2ra2gISB_wD6FxPLxvwmcYrUNxi5RRHbRTA8_H5RCkDIC_RoheY-DiO6XHMyaoJN9NBPPiRiHU19PLDKCB2Y40-9zbGBHwd-l_63knOLycz4EQSmZ1pMXH/s400/Leeth+706.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;"> "Christmas Cookies"</span></p><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285419492498899778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig67KBcMhlhFzWXAYaPXbpn7yUESpTI0vwju2yWn-5elQG0Q0CEweHaNXRO43-VTDSO1KWY3h9PN42VczL1i4GyGfJuYlAL2gb9tIDVDNvRPPWvr1dcaqG72BTMZEYqtwwmi4QIfBPivpu/s400/Leeth+644.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">"Why does the Caged Baby Smile?"</span></div><p><br />Finally, Christmas Eve! Hooray!! The plan was to go to church at 5 then to Byron's parent's house for dinner and nifty gifties. (And we did indeed get some very nifty gifties! Like a sweet GPS! I'll never be lost again!!!! Provided I remember to bring it with me...still working on that new trick!) Unfortunately, we had shared the stomach flu with Byron's mom, 2 sisters, and his grandma who flew in from Indiana. OOPS! We thought we were in the stomach bug clear but apparently not. Plan B! We opened our new Christmas PJs before church and then went off to see the White House trees. Don't be fooled by Wyatt Claus' disguise. Part of his excellent management plan is to literally walk in the shoes, or in this case hooves, of his support staff. On Christmas Eve we caught him in reindeer mode! </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285423578608246898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOk4XQfY-GZHAvYc-Nbd6RFq6vciO8BeNGEaMbiNC5pqsNyfTPquWYiqErBXA05XcTXwJSWo9SK_PayfhhgAN5-_R4oSKe5udAr4a1p9Buhl5mD0mUr_SG-owxn776Lwdp454K15A4RiP7/s400/Leeth+674.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">"For Me?"</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285423588098913506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dvjaEIw-OaK5J11WcE63GxHKnhek-VYAKgDUCJP0U06zK1n9Vw9RZkhbIgVqksLB5ySRdT3T3eHjOsB6o1AiUj18qrxWxt-Q9ge2dK5ICFgHdU1zQRJoGuMG2EvhKYLBcvy6qswvFV3O/s400/Leeth+681.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">"Pure Delight"</span></p><p align="left"></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285423593591689634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFor_DdL1widoMBQW46N9ywgsnLdbgE-vPs147T89ZuRxI6a2zpC1q3Jn8F5qaqS3LY3mhDjceMeZtlmRq33sMCFkPIGJ5Ae-Kiv75GuqmDsWlCaTM4StwGKu3wcv5Nd66bSxPNdSCFguX/s400/Leeth+697.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">" 'Zat You Wyatt Claus?"</span></p><p align="left">To be continued...</p>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-88476496955497473802008-12-18T18:47:00.001-05:002008-12-18T18:49:12.103-05:00Puke and PoopThe stomach flu has hit Casa de Leeth. Enough said.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-38550818326163057882008-12-10T15:46:00.003-05:002008-12-10T16:32:46.120-05:00Happy Belated ThanksgivingOur Thanksgiving started bright and early. As in like 5:30 a.m. Don't Byron and I look thrilled to be awake? Also, in the first photo Wyatt is making an INSANE face which for some reason delights me.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0BLcc9MjvcdJtfrfKev3hlueWTSmWT8-4ICkhNe5FFj90ffp8h_mA1FeTSdOnqrO6Qwtjk_PHU6MQkheZsIj1At_7GyFgAiF2xLu64kM42fmlwf1V4emi9Elf7C602wQb-HQdbD0RGGR/s1600-h/Picture+394.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278275590338508850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0BLcc9MjvcdJtfrfKev3hlueWTSmWT8-4ICkhNe5FFj90ffp8h_mA1FeTSdOnqrO6Qwtjk_PHU6MQkheZsIj1At_7GyFgAiF2xLu64kM42fmlwf1V4emi9Elf7C602wQb-HQdbD0RGGR/s400/Picture+394.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUepm8MZqRRxDSjBgB78MVbOJiVXvpnw3gHaag3i4Bb7LzdU-X-gu-1Ou1Vuf2VHUqnoO34CHZpG5GzY5sFpSb3r3FpxIXAnZL7foDAyx3EtizRQXRZepePhAuzPaRfWWkt-eWpOdKRyC/s1600-h/Picture+395.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278275312098017986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUepm8MZqRRxDSjBgB78MVbOJiVXvpnw3gHaag3i4Bb7LzdU-X-gu-1Ou1Vuf2VHUqnoO34CHZpG5GzY5sFpSb3r3FpxIXAnZL7foDAyx3EtizRQXRZepePhAuzPaRfWWkt-eWpOdKRyC/s400/Picture+395.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Ahw9buMlSl6ddhJ_1J_xbt_TszkmFEsiDhYRGD3xbimCe2Rtj6MLTS2x1cjV8S5ng5nc-2tGlSmoNMy0N2ZiuWzLpAZyT8578BzMTQSNsVklRztUSENbkBl7zgI_X-Yr0LlS8N-EJ5ww/s1600-h/Picture+397.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278275310713770018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Ahw9buMlSl6ddhJ_1J_xbt_TszkmFEsiDhYRGD3xbimCe2Rtj6MLTS2x1cjV8S5ng5nc-2tGlSmoNMy0N2ZiuWzLpAZyT8578BzMTQSNsVklRztUSENbkBl7zgI_X-Yr0LlS8N-EJ5ww/s400/Picture+397.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Next, we went to the Wingard's for about an hour to see Uncle Bobby and Judah! The boys are 5 weeks, 6 days apart with Wyatt being older but smaller!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WSvtRIkS-mp0vXDZnNPtcMxyE0zeHHKPuFfI_EjMwwFxMY7ZH7uaJ4ir7t7syDSkb8iSEjfH_aN5wvOdM3VgQ6lye4257jeVCSoEdl3hn6aNvprNrk6VLDUYZLV4Q0cWfP-MJbEoqGL1/s1600-h/Picture+403.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278275304452062898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WSvtRIkS-mp0vXDZnNPtcMxyE0zeHHKPuFfI_EjMwwFxMY7ZH7uaJ4ir7t7syDSkb8iSEjfH_aN5wvOdM3VgQ6lye4257jeVCSoEdl3hn6aNvprNrk6VLDUYZLV4Q0cWfP-MJbEoqGL1/s400/Picture+403.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNSfgQ5L5VgzfM8qBH1Y1Svartvb71KB9bvqlJAJacdDtjn3ri7if7DRsdqBtHRfr0vf1vsdGWgYbnUT-aTUQbSE-ltvEBrav0d0_ceARpNBQWcBvZxe5psENMtsCVWFcHo2hGhgVKk0Sn/s1600-h/Picture+406.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278275299024291474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNSfgQ5L5VgzfM8qBH1Y1Svartvb71KB9bvqlJAJacdDtjn3ri7if7DRsdqBtHRfr0vf1vsdGWgYbnUT-aTUQbSE-ltvEBrav0d0_ceARpNBQWcBvZxe5psENMtsCVWFcHo2hGhgVKk0Sn/s400/Picture+406.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFByShgsXw2sWwjjzyO5YEFXo2dhobjsPGywfoJW6wtwYL3YnvP5M9-Rf6dLLngOt3AUMAqbHMaGRwGi2Y_ZYANFN1KSyDGxTgCbxeRaX4795AaMysa754GiP49tIhwNL960rciUA0Fn42/s1600-h/Picture+410.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278275297318612226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFByShgsXw2sWwjjzyO5YEFXo2dhobjsPGywfoJW6wtwYL3YnvP5M9-Rf6dLLngOt3AUMAqbHMaGRwGi2Y_ZYANFN1KSyDGxTgCbxeRaX4795AaMysa754GiP49tIhwNL960rciUA0Fn42/s400/Picture+410.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0ifJBCwNIlxaUuGXiRDgVxsEYPppeIuJdR7z7TyUGILqJdIgH4sKbO4bC2cA4O4ng2c-Z9QuYrKtPGQFxZqU451LryIvQrXZMNNG1ln6pijypNJJjO6gf1LbtuC1QqV1d1z7SVmAvDWn/s1600-h/Picture+411.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278274104736089858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0ifJBCwNIlxaUuGXiRDgVxsEYPppeIuJdR7z7TyUGILqJdIgH4sKbO4bC2cA4O4ng2c-Z9QuYrKtPGQFxZqU451LryIvQrXZMNNG1ln6pijypNJJjO6gf1LbtuC1QqV1d1z7SVmAvDWn/s400/Picture+411.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizlydXZUT-yX8lNoEoDePSpXNa1a2vKL61vc6I4_JZvVu2VPO71Z0F9Z6r4-U5B4gFb3bJjZdo0irunt8Wr-mq3eiiOknXseN_aPz-_gD73SaIpCS73QN1ju_BkkFVu1Z5AHXyLbimPblr/s1600-h/Picture+414.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278274097805935074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizlydXZUT-yX8lNoEoDePSpXNa1a2vKL61vc6I4_JZvVu2VPO71Z0F9Z6r4-U5B4gFb3bJjZdo0irunt8Wr-mq3eiiOknXseN_aPz-_gD73SaIpCS73QN1ju_BkkFVu1Z5AHXyLbimPblr/s400/Picture+414.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrfZlDflx-vxHqVQnzTcHGayPsKLvcE2qj6KsilueBLTN1qKegEyD2ZjPcR3ja_jueDVXfq0n8cxtTQbLGnnVBM290XJlAhmfkx88m8IZG145Osj_b8ROhSORS9QAW7TXYUBrV89_-1Du/s1600-h/Picture+421.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278274093067453698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilrfZlDflx-vxHqVQnzTcHGayPsKLvcE2qj6KsilueBLTN1qKegEyD2ZjPcR3ja_jueDVXfq0n8cxtTQbLGnnVBM290XJlAhmfkx88m8IZG145Osj_b8ROhSORS9QAW7TXYUBrV89_-1Du/s400/Picture+421.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We then headed to the Farifax Leeth's for Thanksgiving dinner. Wyatt had turkey and mashed potatos! Yum! Yum! Everything was delicious and we had a lovely day!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_qlYcBujOcABztx7_xpGvtl_7hriN_FSy8tMbZd_hAECzkT5x21D3Sow0aGYzcSfSeif0roUmEK1E7qZbbyBOs1npe1xq7N9BxARe0r8kAufas7Op1ZBB-lq5ILtkZrdj_ic2OT_21OTd/s1600-h/Picture+448.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278274087855657970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_qlYcBujOcABztx7_xpGvtl_7hriN_FSy8tMbZd_hAECzkT5x21D3Sow0aGYzcSfSeif0roUmEK1E7qZbbyBOs1npe1xq7N9BxARe0r8kAufas7Op1ZBB-lq5ILtkZrdj_ic2OT_21OTd/s400/Picture+448.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLStb5X6NyBIwcaSYuIh5QKl-ZsiLdstCuGoY0AmAjAOc94Q7PxPs8fcIsJBdKN8k4h4N-R3Znuu5Kh-ad03YAsZZj1hW4efqVyImcBj5XkwMjn-ZJyl_YuRgAgfoqDlrcMHj3PgLYBo3F/s1600-h/Picture+427.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278274081862788706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLStb5X6NyBIwcaSYuIh5QKl-ZsiLdstCuGoY0AmAjAOc94Q7PxPs8fcIsJBdKN8k4h4N-R3Znuu5Kh-ad03YAsZZj1hW4efqVyImcBj5XkwMjn-ZJyl_YuRgAgfoqDlrcMHj3PgLYBo3F/s400/Picture+427.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />(P.S. The Leeths of Lorton DOMINATED the Thanksgiving game of Apples to Apples.) </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2207793709633623135.post-54141906921435205422008-12-08T09:26:00.003-05:002008-12-08T09:33:12.162-05:00Acceptance SpeechThank you, thank you for crowning me "funniest dead mouse joke teller of all time." I accept this award with great honor. I couldn't have done it without God and my fans. My fans are AWESOME!<br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div>In other news, yes the Leeths DID celebrate Thanksgiving. Pictures will be up once I get a new battery for the camera so it can withstand the uploading process.</div><br /><div></div><div>Meanwhile, enjoy this photo taken by my friend Stacey after the Kiddie Choir concert last night.</div><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277426694419616066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGxGctIxom81CporuUUsBZ0akWML_4CSidHn3esQmDGYPFCNJ2RNAGoDWH7UJVVzIg0loiwAmNN-wDNHfSl23DKpwA2arOG3yoFdxIm6p6wKYLpycesdeEwoy1HbgfUNzf_1F2-6Cf5-pw/s400/n519178911_1123808_6653.jpg" border="0" /><br />Wyatt is totally the cutest baby ever. I am a completely unbiased judge and I have declared it so.Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01399292748893601652noreply@blogger.com0