tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14367551771162982032024-03-12T18:09:08.287-07:00a paper elephantheidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-78349118780205127972012-09-13T10:07:00.001-07:002012-09-13T10:07:14.104-07:00cowboy morningA bit obsessed with bento-esque kid food lately. (www.anotherlunch.com) Also, the wild one has dived deeply into character stories in his imaginative world. There will be much costuming this fall, I feel. Just continuing the family tradition. Wahoo for 50% abott days. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUN7J3UHSv06PwDZ2qtQi6qPkr43nWXXW1m7f6rcODYdypFJbvD66l4DdvEU7sMevzbb8oA2SwgqPX9mmlwL6bKRr0p6hzrwHVAaDBDHYdBg0_JmNbwidgw5Mxx8OUoJroc1I-EAQw98jy/s640/blogger-image-191853704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUN7J3UHSv06PwDZ2qtQi6qPkr43nWXXW1m7f6rcODYdypFJbvD66l4DdvEU7sMevzbb8oA2SwgqPX9mmlwL6bKRr0p6hzrwHVAaDBDHYdBg0_JmNbwidgw5Mxx8OUoJroc1I-EAQw98jy/s640/blogger-image-191853704.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZZqO3xOcC_wB1mh9C0ncoR1C63N3RxiTEKEQWTbrSxRq8T_EJKqDBGIYjZkh5PNUiBJ62NfIuv1Sq4kcB1PvpqB0CC_9wb4eVGzAjYmWdeD3JEWvCWznwVaD5gkQ3Cw29TfrbJB4WU_2q/s640/blogger-image-1896886829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZZqO3xOcC_wB1mh9C0ncoR1C63N3RxiTEKEQWTbrSxRq8T_EJKqDBGIYjZkh5PNUiBJ62NfIuv1Sq4kcB1PvpqB0CC_9wb4eVGzAjYmWdeD3JEWvCWznwVaD5gkQ3Cw29TfrbJB4WU_2q/s640/blogger-image-1896886829.jpg" /></a></div>heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-3610667716278757942012-01-11T13:44:00.000-08:002012-01-11T13:44:56.745-08:00<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/paperelephant/6571953629/" title="jazzy christmas kid by paperelephant, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7028/6571953629_766e8ebc4b.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="jazzy christmas kid"></a><br />
<br />
Today Siah and I were sitting at the table while he enjoyed peanut butter and jelly as only kids can, reading a stack of books. He received <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0310708257/ref=asc_df_03107082571855498?smid=ATVPDKIKX0DER&tag=hyprod-20&linkCode=asn&creative=395093&creativeASIN=0310708257">this book</a> for Christmas from my in-laws and I LOVE IT, especially since it is filled with brown people and non-anglo Jesus and the heart of God. We were reading about how the Bible is a story that sometimes people think is about rules or heroes or a nation, but how it's really a story about God and in the middle is a baby and that baby grew up to be the biggest hero ever, and I asked Si if he remembered baby Jesus from when we talked about him at Christmas time. <br />
<br />
He said, "Dep, momma, dep. Yeah-Yeah love baby Jesus." (Yep, momma, yep. Siah loves baby Jesus) <br />
<br />
I got choked so up and said, "Yeah Siah, momma loves baby Jesus too. And baby Jesus loves Siah." To which his eyes widened, and he said, "DEP!" <br />
<br />
I have a fear of brain-washing my children with religiosity, when really I just want them to know the whole, beautiful truth and self of God. We tell the stories, we go to church, we practice life as the church, we focus on truth and love and grace in our parenting and as a family. But I know that true relationship is deeply personal, and I want to respect our children's own stories with God as they explore that. Never to have <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesus_Camp">this</a>.<br />
<br />
When my small boy, who is just learning what it is to love someone or something ("Yeah-Yeah love hi-ho momma. Yeah-Yeah love pitates. Yeah-Yeah love Buzz.") shared an unprompted open heart about Him who I love most of all; I can't even explain. In that moment I understood what the difference was between the brain-washing and the genuine spirit. And I was humbled and overwhelmed and overjoyed and trying not to cry so that he would finish his apples while we read more stories. Language has enabled me to share this greatest love and hope and truth with him in a way that I never had been able to before.<br />
<br />
A <a href="dlmayfield.wordpress.com/">friend</a> of mine reminds me that the kingdom of God comes through babies. Although I am not often able to unpack the whole of what that entails, today I was able to taste a wide and delicious slice of it. In a season of my life that has taken over my mind and soul, I very much needed to experience the washing over of the promise and spirit of God as He holds my family so much more expertly than I.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-77060276103539690002011-10-09T20:18:00.001-07:002011-10-09T20:18:29.770-07:00iphone photos for the weekit's good to be home and creative with the small boy again. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Eb5jtVcCUpaoLZeWHBxF3D8IyQzQOBqv2jbtl00-jsdQBDFOBq7ZrGMQmSccfvYqGyFVc7juNMTuGWGc4KlPr0liJ-6IpNz5aMKMti3kW14YgyVVv-Sh8HmI-oKZQcsOyFcLThnVM7yS/s640/blogger-image--1506962257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Eb5jtVcCUpaoLZeWHBxF3D8IyQzQOBqv2jbtl00-jsdQBDFOBq7ZrGMQmSccfvYqGyFVc7juNMTuGWGc4KlPr0liJ-6IpNz5aMKMti3kW14YgyVVv-Sh8HmI-oKZQcsOyFcLThnVM7yS/s640/blogger-image--1506962257.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pt_oQ08_yl76B07JFaVegxeTTJefY0Ybsz34v8hKoYXQNGTrkdOwiyCrtV2-G4lt20alOZ06VTuSGV_Q8NXyDc3W8CXnZb22Rze8ZhGXazcUtrAuTnYmyaxhIIzTxetDdZ0YRmvidLHH/s640/blogger-image--788549140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pt_oQ08_yl76B07JFaVegxeTTJefY0Ybsz34v8hKoYXQNGTrkdOwiyCrtV2-G4lt20alOZ06VTuSGV_Q8NXyDc3W8CXnZb22Rze8ZhGXazcUtrAuTnYmyaxhIIzTxetDdZ0YRmvidLHH/s640/blogger-image--788549140.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9d2K-9EjQv0LifyhQ2AcJrRFB7KURn1WuhvVdgWmHCuBVuor00g_37Zq1yo8fZae6g66hoMRcUstcQzgy0Z6E4XTTusRgp6F0CgLks24F2n2N6e84C1BXkS3YO_0FSSuNvXWQbag_dgo/s640/blogger-image-1841049612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ9d2K-9EjQv0LifyhQ2AcJrRFB7KURn1WuhvVdgWmHCuBVuor00g_37Zq1yo8fZae6g66hoMRcUstcQzgy0Z6E4XTTusRgp6F0CgLks24F2n2N6e84C1BXkS3YO_0FSSuNvXWQbag_dgo/s640/blogger-image-1841049612.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQUVsmAypdVSWLAVGk5gnfepkpefWMydSTy_vMVOtV-_Y5ytDmvzTtVdIuRXZn7-L_uKwpOyYX-WicHOStH3Sc7tRLAttRhdm-DgXTFWBlKyjPJb9109dARped4tdyLo08U1LGxihrvPv/s640/blogger-image--215852004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQUVsmAypdVSWLAVGk5gnfepkpefWMydSTy_vMVOtV-_Y5ytDmvzTtVdIuRXZn7-L_uKwpOyYX-WicHOStH3Sc7tRLAttRhdm-DgXTFWBlKyjPJb9109dARped4tdyLo08U1LGxihrvPv/s640/blogger-image--215852004.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkb3ZExAZqjgGFcbZblh_gmPLFJxb5aaSFsF6azRti9isvUhvqA5Pv-anP_8agwThJxnh48g9PiqJCB4ERfpN6e0nr7wK0vMNUC29FXIQ0czFH2-Sgg1xKxUh7MJBZtr5x6oTMj2-5hKP/s640/blogger-image-1247700510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkb3ZExAZqjgGFcbZblh_gmPLFJxb5aaSFsF6azRti9isvUhvqA5Pv-anP_8agwThJxnh48g9PiqJCB4ERfpN6e0nr7wK0vMNUC29FXIQ0czFH2-Sgg1xKxUh7MJBZtr5x6oTMj2-5hKP/s640/blogger-image-1247700510.jpg" /></a></div>heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-41097564862994884352011-10-04T13:51:00.001-07:002011-10-04T15:06:27.993-07:00run. ran. running.I bought a pair of ridiculous looking shoes and began to run. It took a long time to get over it all. The "it" being the healthy husband, the marathoning friends, the serious lack of lung health, the absolute distrust of my ability to find success in any sport-related activity, and not being able to ever find my sports bra. <br />
<br />
The runners I know and love run for miles and miles and eat gels and train and race and track and time. I love them and their running love; it's why, after 5 years of supporting their gatoradey ways, I began -- and think I can actually follow through this time. I am not training for a race. I am not monitoring my speed/distance/calories. I am not ever having the expectation of doing this for more than 30-40 minutes at a time. My only goals are weight related. And it feels different. Maybe the endorphins? Maybe the opportunity to be in the wild by myself for a while? Maybe I am just in that expanding place and want to run in the trees alongside of Jesus and sometimes joey and sometimes siah and feel the physical free that my heart has returned to. <br />
<br />
Yes, that sounds right.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-ajiNHlp0DA6_xK09dOvmEX6FXzcxvh21nQa1JufLK_68JZzoof447GvrnoJnKukS2lgeVIBCI1VMTv1SI0by43OX-gQD2fBNw4cV-OsxAeoQSMyVvvSXydfrLWxot26LznWGEsGfxFu/s1600/photostream.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-ajiNHlp0DA6_xK09dOvmEX6FXzcxvh21nQa1JufLK_68JZzoof447GvrnoJnKukS2lgeVIBCI1VMTv1SI0by43OX-gQD2fBNw4cV-OsxAeoQSMyVvvSXydfrLWxot26LznWGEsGfxFu/s400/photostream.jpeg" /></a></div>
heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-42756449505501663042011-10-01T00:03:00.001-07:002011-10-01T00:14:13.169-07:00from many thousands of feet above the desertMostly I feel like looking out the window at the stream of broken lights and weeping. She is a shattered girl, collected in a tall glass with a lid that doesn't fit quite right. I am a shattered girl who is familiar to this feeling of having been spilled upon the kitchen floor, my important bits lost beneath the lip of the cupboard. I will be collected in the dustpan again, and reglued into the next manifestation of self. I will be whole and new again again again. So will she. Again again again. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfnRI9A2M4go4r9dzirZqayiceWot9NTVcdLLQ-SlOPzwc9NhAbl0ABkI2xYj00OeiNhbF5ashYGt0qn8NlcO-rOvNp2evABTpYURzy7qfoevLz26F9cd9FvxJxvyblMNkC0ALNmX2jhM/s640/blogger-image--914084405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfnRI9A2M4go4r9dzirZqayiceWot9NTVcdLLQ-SlOPzwc9NhAbl0ABkI2xYj00OeiNhbF5ashYGt0qn8NlcO-rOvNp2evABTpYURzy7qfoevLz26F9cd9FvxJxvyblMNkC0ALNmX2jhM/s640/blogger-image--914084405.jpg" /></a></div>heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-68807669492010621752011-09-29T15:48:00.001-07:002011-09-29T15:48:06.365-07:00flying back from utah<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/paperelephant/6172357131/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6167/6172357131_21b373f61a.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/paperelephant/6172357131/">there is a lot of tree cutting going on</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/paperelephant/">paperelephant</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> home to the small boy<br /><br /><br />how i missed you so<br /><br />my wee boy who <br /><br />tumbles<br /><br />and laughs<br /><br />and<br /><br />reads about whales<br /><br />digging to a face of dust<br /><br />tucked beneath <br /><br />my chin<br /><br />kicking kicking <br /><br />kicking<br /><br />my knees<br /><br />home is so much more<br /><br />of <br /><br />you</p>heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-58953137688363062742011-03-31T19:59:00.000-07:002011-03-31T20:13:29.704-07:00minor toddler tragediesI just retraced our afternoon trip, scanning the curbs for a lost <a href="http://www.pigeonpresents.com/pals-leonardo.aspx">Leonardo</a>. Drove obnoxiously slow, peering into the grass for a lime green, fuzzy monster. He went to bed a little bummed, but I am incapable of understanding loved creatures as anything less that secretly sentient. I blame the Velveteen Rabbit and an over-active imagination. I'm having Toy Story flashbacks. Thank the Lord for Amazon.<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qHKhFYtb-xE" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-58039637095788950272011-01-30T15:04:00.000-08:002011-01-30T21:56:39.034-08:00best nona<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCtxtBon94uCzk44hmBdyfF-sYVQtDSJCqrwjSKGwHU45yJG4ChBukGpNLNC0b-9eR-403YJsGyixAYFMS1eQUkU6-Bo_Rsh6_TFGlSf1IgeTQb9Wk5hnxi6HG0YIvS1YuFHxnMXkcoKr/s1600/IMG_3940.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCtxtBon94uCzk44hmBdyfF-sYVQtDSJCqrwjSKGwHU45yJG4ChBukGpNLNC0b-9eR-403YJsGyixAYFMS1eQUkU6-Bo_Rsh6_TFGlSf1IgeTQb9Wk5hnxi6HG0YIvS1YuFHxnMXkcoKr/s400/IMG_3940.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568119037895709298" /></a><br /><br />favorite, favorite, favorite.<br /><br />I am looking forward to many more days of this in my life.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-67851880520794474762011-01-06T13:29:00.000-08:002011-01-23T17:24:39.590-08:00no sleep for brooklynI have a love/hate relationship with sleep. Always have. I've never slept well, even as a little girl. I have these <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_paralysis">sleep paralysis</a> nightmares sometimes, more often if I'm stressed or really tired. I used to sleep on my back every night, but doing so increases your chances of having one, so I don't anymore. I miss it. Anyway, I've had insanely vivid dreams of aliens outside my window, of joey being murdered, of the house being robbed, etc with this sleep paralysis thing. Not fun. <br /><br />Siah seems to have unfortunately inherited my propensity for messy sleep. It it isn't often he ever truly sleeps through the night (not that 5-hour baloney, LEGITIMATELY sleeping through and not having to be snuggled back to sleep at some point during the middle), which kills me, however sweet it can be. He seems to be getting a bit more on that trolley now (at 18 months), but we're still at a 60/40 sort of chance.<br /><br />Naps used to be hell. there were always a few weeks during the 3 naps a day/2 naps a day season where he would sleep for a full 45 minute cycle (or even an hour and a half!!) for each one and we could have good, balanced days. But most days we would spend completely unable to find success with his daytime sleeping. Joey would call from school and my voice would be dead and flat. Trying to teach someone to sleep has been one of the most defeating experiences I've ever known. I had bought <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Healthy-Sleep-Habits-Happy-Child/dp/0449004023">Healthy Sleep Habits, Healthy Child </a> out of desperation when he was around 10 months old (I think -- honestly all I remember is exhaustion) and read it in 2 days. I'm not keen on many of his more severe implementations in the book, but the ideal schedule and needed sleep times were SO freeing for me. I was able to establish more of his routine, etc, etc, it changed our every days. <br /><br />But then. <br /><br />There is always a "but then."<br /><br />I try not to live in mortal fear of them.<br /><br />Morning naps were amazing, but afternoon naps were turning into the bloodiest of celebrity death matches. Misery all around! And because I am wonderfully brainless, I FORGOT TO REVISIT THE BOOK. It went on for months. MONTHS. Screaming, crying, fighting, holding for hours and hours and hours; the absolute destruction of our motivation and momentum of EVERY SINGLE DAY. <br /><br />Here, I will interject: being a stay at home mom is awesome. I love it. Favorite job, Full, challenging, rewarding, hilarious and exhausting at every step. However, in order to keep finding success with pre-verbal children, you have to work your ass off at helping them find out how to be the best version of themselves in every situation. And they can't have a reasoning conversation with you, let alone a non-reasoning one where you just win Because You're The Mom. You have to capitalize on the momentum of the small successes you find in the morning to carry you through the afternoon. Momentum is key. At least for me.<br /><br />So. When we'd have these "naps" of destruction, it would literally demolish our days. Walls reduced to rubble, blackened patch of smoking carpet where the crib used to be. Tiny tragedies of the every day. Finally, I remembered the book. I reread the appropriate section. I shifted a few things. I anticipated a 3 week process (my dear, wise mom friend always advises 2-4 weeks for life changes). It only took a week and a half. Afternoon naps only. Between 2 to 3 hours each day! GLORIOUS CELEBRATION ALL AROUND! THE HEAVENS REJOICED!<br /><br />And it has lasted. It's amazing. Our world has shifted and there is great relief and success. Deep sighs of joy and gratitude for the eternal hope that the joy of the Lord can be found even within the dark recesses of a tired toddler's routine. The season is looking up.<br /><br />*Also, the other night I thought I heard him climb out of his crib and pad down the hallway, come next to my side of the bed, giggle, and TRY TO YANK ME DOWN INTO THE DEPTHS OF HELL. I promptly woke up from a sleep paralysis episode FREAKED OUT OF MY MIND, praying that he never, never learns to hoist himself over those weak wooden bars.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-17627112137025285882010-11-06T10:33:00.000-07:002010-11-06T11:04:51.982-07:00ewoks are the best woksIt's no secret that I come from a wide line of Star Wars-loving, sci-fi geeks. My torch does not burn nearly as brightly as others in my family, but; BUT, I took my long-standing desire to have my very own ewok out on my son for his second ever halloween. Probably the easiest costume I've ever made, and definitely my most favorite. <br /><br />Leftover fur and curtains from when Joe was a jedi. Measured from overalls and a hoodie.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSjQQPUGnJPHOEKfdrgVi1TxxJF_CfteF_2jDmpdNG6pc3ow5tRBZpijyAC_xmLC-_crirDZTJdgKDYsD8wlBtWuAl3Hz_qZl_UN5BOam9Q482VXiDWZZjgyBSDjrPRycVWbOOE6aTuzC/s1600/DSC_0031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSjQQPUGnJPHOEKfdrgVi1TxxJF_CfteF_2jDmpdNG6pc3ow5tRBZpijyAC_xmLC-_crirDZTJdgKDYsD8wlBtWuAl3Hz_qZl_UN5BOam9Q482VXiDWZZjgyBSDjrPRycVWbOOE6aTuzC/s400/DSC_0031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536497300984941090" /></a><br />We took him downtown.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rg0J9OM8CRmizyGDvHz92nBbR3tfen92AkM7AXxtx28qPV687bclMlzcWNIdN4Y1HVWarDrxzZszO2nQK2XdkZDFIb1qQZI8IM_A9sR4H0MQPN_DXIvwNkpJReYXFBDp3iLfKnbHLNs1/s1600/DSC_0029.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rg0J9OM8CRmizyGDvHz92nBbR3tfen92AkM7AXxtx28qPV687bclMlzcWNIdN4Y1HVWarDrxzZszO2nQK2XdkZDFIb1qQZI8IM_A9sR4H0MQPN_DXIvwNkpJReYXFBDp3iLfKnbHLNs1/s400/DSC_0029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536492604444440994" /></a><br />People were pretty stoked. Especially the guys.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wXyvlbokTD2QYHJvba8VJcfvgnybsCTmNs8oIkbJZ97Fgt3Ir2uwhKWUJ9vXtjFV0m2kKh2QvPn635R6QbTZPo0H18S6zffVIZo9TUyA7MTXUB5NxqfvmmL5VYcCBqIclxIyfjE36uW4/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wXyvlbokTD2QYHJvba8VJcfvgnybsCTmNs8oIkbJZ97Fgt3Ir2uwhKWUJ9vXtjFV0m2kKh2QvPn635R6QbTZPo0H18S6zffVIZo9TUyA7MTXUB5NxqfvmmL5VYcCBqIclxIyfjE36uW4/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536497297668950226" /></a><br />But how could you not love this face?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlI0hG79ITPpuq_HqukA14Mu2Px1axDioSZLRWYFOiq7EFzGCjD7qK-H8K6bOWGf77r2Uwb_y2UwUkcmcoS1J0dOPN1VB0KHn2w7QlXGaSusMnIKAHKLXOOj75DRAipnwujytHdwnBDvr/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlI0hG79ITPpuq_HqukA14Mu2Px1axDioSZLRWYFOiq7EFzGCjD7qK-H8K6bOWGf77r2Uwb_y2UwUkcmcoS1J0dOPN1VB0KHn2w7QlXGaSusMnIKAHKLXOOj75DRAipnwujytHdwnBDvr/s400/DSC_0025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536497295459078770" /></a><br />So much fun.<br /><br />Also, today's favorite creations from the internets. People are amazing.<br /><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/15607283?portrait=0" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0"></iframe>heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-80436115602335873192010-10-19T13:25:00.000-07:002010-10-19T13:31:31.405-07:00hairone day, because i did not sleep, because someone is getting every single tooth at once, because i am too cheap, because i am afraid of looking like an anchorwoman, because i do not feel like doing the dishes or putting away laundry, because i need to drop some lbs, because i miss dying my hair, because my face is rather broken out, because the aunt is all the way in seattle, because it is all swiftly shifting, <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XVZWf9eRkK8ZQxM3E-gOLlV-49seAN9_09GOacDfRINMK003Rcm6PcI3R4b3D_2toGdro5fmSqKO5rkCsqRMYT2m5XgiYYzcqXZGRBW0z62iujvxWgrqJB8HsrA6wWMbGAan-6GM5GRL/s1600/Photo+32.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0XVZWf9eRkK8ZQxM3E-gOLlV-49seAN9_09GOacDfRINMK003Rcm6PcI3R4b3D_2toGdro5fmSqKO5rkCsqRMYT2m5XgiYYzcqXZGRBW0z62iujvxWgrqJB8HsrA6wWMbGAan-6GM5GRL/s400/Photo+32.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529857345491654914" /></a><br /><br />i cut bangs.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-63337723544347960442010-10-18T16:33:00.000-07:002010-10-18T17:10:15.116-07:00rain and steps (of a few kinds)It rained for the first time all season yesterday. I love it. Joey does not. Oh the conflict of a desert rat and a northwest girl. We even made it to church for the first time in ages. Also, because I am an old lady, I slipped and fell all the way down my porch steps and broke a hip. Not really. Banged up my knee pretty badly though, and scared the sweet potatoes out of my small son (who I was not holding, thank you for your concern). Makes for some challenging "crawl around and chase after me like a monster" playing. <br /><br />Right now I am trying to teach the very athletic child that blocks are for stacking and not for throwing, as his aim has become surprisingly direct, and I am concerned for our new and fancy tv. He knocked the phone off its perch this morning, narrowly missing the new (sort of) and fancy computer. Yeep. I like my wild boy quite a lot, destruction and all. The most fascinating and encouraging thing to me has been with the intentional and gentle discipline and correction that comes with teaching another person how to interact in society and community and life. He is (for such a little dude) genuinely responsive and has this sweet little nature and sincere desire to obey. Trying to support that and meet him in that way. I like this adventure most days.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEielnOjd3US7bNEbxhemKiQojhzLvAAuOIkEGRdz2MRdJu0PbsP_LLbDt1eLTV1IQR8YaHk5hCRND2KXtEncMv6Bt9LYplsr3eH3dTvdaRIT9lSIPRM214vfUOvhVYfIU8uQxtwhYy3JciI/s1600/Photo+60.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEielnOjd3US7bNEbxhemKiQojhzLvAAuOIkEGRdz2MRdJu0PbsP_LLbDt1eLTV1IQR8YaHk5hCRND2KXtEncMv6Bt9LYplsr3eH3dTvdaRIT9lSIPRM214vfUOvhVYfIU8uQxtwhYy3JciI/s400/Photo+60.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529542677672119026" /></a>heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-597254696388961662010-10-14T23:50:00.000-07:002010-10-15T00:07:26.161-07:00haiku for the whelmedmalted blue kitchen<br />enabled all of my life<br />almost bought a house<br /><br />trying to be as<br />responsible as i can<br />finish paperwork<br /><br />not doing too well<br />sleeping like a normal girl<br />adrenaline kills<br /><br />a pink eyedropper<br />ibuprofen suspension<br />gums and crooked teethheidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-28170475619356397922010-10-14T01:14:00.000-07:002010-10-14T01:17:22.523-07:00favoritemr. joshua bennett is remarkable and i love this.<br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6gU7ItOxr9g?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6gU7ItOxr9g?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />as well as this.<br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_U5BwD8zOeM?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_U5BwD8zOeM?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />when one is living out their created glory you can feel it across your skin.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-51030147816756363012010-10-06T00:20:00.000-07:002010-10-06T00:46:07.354-07:00reminiscingfrom an old journal i revisited tonight:<br /><br />2.21.02<br /><br />I am on my way to London, hopefully headed in the right direction. I got on the train to Malmô to find that I could go no farther than the entrance. It's crammed full of people. There is a family of sweet grandparents and three blonde, blue-eyed, lilting-voiced, young girls. An older girl is with them, lovely and beautiful in that European sort of way, but with kind eyes. That is not common. I am balancing on Elly's backpack with my toes against the wall in front of me. I understand the children. They're making a fort of scarves.<br /><br />There are two thick army boys with their buzzed heads and hardened eyes. A gay man with a tight, black uniform and beautiful features squirms out of the bathroom. His eyes are fearful and tender and sad. I wonder what he has known. The wire waste-basket is above my knees, spilling out milk cartons and universal McDonald's cups leaking leftover coke. The little girls sing made up songs in the dancing language as the sun flashes into our cramped cabin. I feel God's tender heart.<br /><br />I actually made it. To Malmô at least. How wonderful it will be to be among people who speak English again. As I was on the bus, watching the neighborhoods blink past in the dark sky, I thought I was in San Rafael again. How odd to forget you are on one side of the world. There is a man in gray, sagging around the edges with hair that is to young for him, flirting cockily with the information woman inside the glass box. His teeth are chipped in front as he smiles. I wonder if she finds them attractive.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-38863947564823322162010-10-04T10:51:00.000-07:002010-10-04T11:17:57.995-07:00feather head<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4Sam5QvVMjK-XSWdpoAyV0Rvx-So3078J7H0WfR5kp8EOo9VoLUa6P4DH3gFVoo2Tn9wNLli2NlkiukCXuqeSptJUNtFRYn6kKWrbX4s2D3IfaRVF9X4HQsPCDQ-XvcQtrLgzDpWQps/s1600/featherhead.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4Sam5QvVMjK-XSWdpoAyV0Rvx-So3078J7H0WfR5kp8EOo9VoLUa6P4DH3gFVoo2Tn9wNLli2NlkiukCXuqeSptJUNtFRYn6kKWrbX4s2D3IfaRVF9X4HQsPCDQ-XvcQtrLgzDpWQps/s400/featherhead.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524248646206642754" /></a><br /><br />morning doodle inspired by the washing of a down mummy bag the mice got to... safety pins do not a patch make. wahoo for cleaning out a feathery washer drum! <br /><br />on a side note, the man pad of the garage is pretty complete! and livable! for people who aren't afraid of sleeping bag-destroying rodentia!<br /><br />also, september is finally over. life is slowly coming back. as long as we stop having 90-degree weather, i will survive. and my house will be clean. post-summer clean. <br /><br />also, my dog is mostly blind. which is sad. she seems okay with it, though. as far as i can tell. siah loves on her quite excessively. now that he is ridiculously mobile and can throw nearly anything, they are getting along relatively well. sometimes there is a lull in the mania and we find ourselves with some sweet, rockwellian moments. sometimes...heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-74155957938006966822010-05-07T12:13:00.000-07:002010-05-07T12:47:00.542-07:00for kit<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnWZUCnKSQ10UTDEfN40thN2k3oVLEvylnr9ZQnJcjwzueoy0TmMQ8J1ykkKNt43esq_b1U7No5YBjjvhg7a7kxQN_c5s49BZ71IbELGO5TO1WCF_67kblqxMpiSBjBKZvYCgv_T379-d/s1600/Scan+101240000.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnWZUCnKSQ10UTDEfN40thN2k3oVLEvylnr9ZQnJcjwzueoy0TmMQ8J1ykkKNt43esq_b1U7No5YBjjvhg7a7kxQN_c5s49BZ71IbELGO5TO1WCF_67kblqxMpiSBjBKZvYCgv_T379-d/s400/Scan+101240000.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468616522902836354" /></a><br /><br />there are women in my world who have my heart as i have theirs. we exist through seasons and mountains and deserts and oceans. i would not survive my life nearly so well without them.<br /><br />kit is moving to seize her life with the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orff_Schulwerk">orff</a> folk in austria for a year. this is so very, very good. and i will miss her quite a lot. made this for her the other night. because it is that sort of a season for her.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-22751673911636756272010-03-16T22:47:00.000-07:002010-03-16T23:17:56.607-07:00fluency<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QmKnQjBf8wM&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QmKnQjBf8wM&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />I love this guy. Hilarious. Wonderful. So fabulous. I've always wanted my children to be fluent in a variety of languages, but have seriously dropped the ball regarding my own fluency. Makes it hard to teach the small one. We speak rudimentary spanish, veeerrrrryyyy basic asl, and... well... english. It's actually kind of sad for me. I wish our swedes lived closer than sweden, the arabic boy was across the street, and that my high school spanish teacher wasn't such a discouraging whack job. One of the reasons I wish we were in the city. Easier access to the multicultural life. However, I know that as he gets older, we can seek it out and immerse as much as possible. Just need to make sure that we actually do.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-64673950545182968602010-03-15T21:38:00.000-07:002010-03-15T21:54:39.261-07:00today<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3107/2645644016_f8ce3d54a6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 375px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3107/2645644016_f8ce3d54a6.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I want:<br />hair like a twenties flapper<br />long enough naps for a full yoga session<br />to buy my house<br />a stress-free budget<br />to go to disneyland<br />my sister to visit<br />hiring to be complete<br />camp to come<br /><br />I need:<br />to do the laundry<br />to clean the house<br />to drive to santa cruz and get siah's social security number so that i can do our taxes<br />to call my dad<br />to get my stroller from pleasanton<br />some serious excercise<br /><br />notes from the day:<br />having a salad for lunch is voided by having nachos for dinner<br />small, shrieky men want to mash the keyboard instead of sit contentedly while you work<br />sunshine and time changes bring out so many more happy things than the exhaustion can conquer<br />oodles of <a href="http://krispindanielle.wordpress.com">old</a> <a href="http://jeffandemily-lifeingeneral.blogspot.com">friends</a> are pregnant and i want very much badly to love on them in personheidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-42001852300751440142010-01-27T21:44:00.000-08:002010-01-27T22:20:49.182-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-DlxmVkBgt9EOhciGGY633co1QrlJBM6F7oetY93NKVhaFkhPXpe9C61kYn_80wvJZmJbUaXbsTmsW39eAtcwC-WGw4KC8-15PVZQKppFBcFhAqFbodqvHcAukN6D3AuhKzbg07fTnk2/s1600-h/Picture+5.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-DlxmVkBgt9EOhciGGY633co1QrlJBM6F7oetY93NKVhaFkhPXpe9C61kYn_80wvJZmJbUaXbsTmsW39eAtcwC-WGw4KC8-15PVZQKppFBcFhAqFbodqvHcAukN6D3AuhKzbg07fTnk2/s400/Picture+5.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431671202418539810" /></a><br /><br />a. yes, i'm weak sauce at the posting right now.<br /> excuses: sick, mastitis, non-napping baby, busted dryer, crazy weather, yada yada yada<br /><br />b. fall collections are oozing their way out and it is so nice to see fashion turning around after last year's sad tribute to economic depression. as off her noodle as donatella versace is, i wish i was a man because the leather jackets (and almost every other one) are so tasty. and galliano is as surreal as dali, but those suits are delicious. as much as i abhor pastels and glittery foofness, i think the chanel haute couture collection is remarkably beautiful. favorite website presenting collections: <a href="http://projectrungay.blogspot.com/">project rungay</a>, for so many reasons.<br /><br />c. we are deep in the throes of <a href="http://www.nbc.com/Friday_Night_Lights/">Friday Night Lights</a>. i never want to live in texas. i moderately dread my continued life as a coach's wife. high school is hilarious and terrible and i'm very glad it's over. i LOVE the wife. that is all.<br /><br />d. i like my boy even though he's a whackadoo. especially because he's a whackadoo.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-62457681148738132092010-01-05T22:25:00.000-08:002010-01-05T22:26:41.235-08:00rice cerealapparently a success.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DonJaQbSDYg&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DonJaQbSDYg&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-41725954109480304312010-01-04T23:30:00.000-08:002010-01-05T00:52:01.630-08:00bookendsWe have these friends, you see, and I love them very much. We live in our house on purpose, as it fits snugly between the bookends of the most non-family family that we have. In all honesty, I am terrible at making friends. Not terrible at being friendly, which confuses most people. I am quite friendly. I was a church wife. It is a prerequisite. I can turn "on" and be engaging and charming and lovely and it is most often exhausting. Social settings that include more than 3 people generally make me hyperventilate and rehearse conversational topics in my head. <br /><br />Anyway. Terrible. I am terrible at growing friendships; at taking the acquaintances to the next, knowing level. The friendships that I have have existed for many, many years. The ones I am trying to grow are slow. I like to believe that because of this weakness, there is a rooty richness to those which are present. Yes. <br /><br />A few months ago one of our bookends burned down. It was horrible and tragic and terrifying and sad. And even though it is only a year that they are not right there, I have deeply missed the casualty of the every day ease of our friendship. It is hard enough to have pieces of them across the ocean for most of the year, but to have even our same-street ones far down at the beach is a slow, quiet drain on my heart. <br /><br />Luckily, this isn't as depressing of a post as it has made itself out to be.<br /><br />Last night we started the year the week the season with my most favorite and missed neighborhood ritual: Sunday Wine Nights. This one involved a minor trek to the temporary ocean-front beach house, but it was most worth it. There is beauty and security and peace found sitting amongst my most favorite grownups, sharing bottles of wine, and talking about family and life and Jesus while taking in winter sunsets. The way our year was starting, with the plague and messiness, I was disheartened. I needed last night. I needed the grounding warmth of those guys, the night of listening and talking and time, in order to walk into this year well. The bookends have expanded a bit for now, but roots of those relationships are growing deeper and farther into my earth. For this I am thankful. For them I am thankful.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-7716345280370772262010-01-02T16:15:00.000-08:002010-01-02T17:12:23.126-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis40CgatBrI1xvVjHGYhL4oTtzWw_ido4abaUzHh3GuDK4dEwza7OceHoTjZOJozHOjfWFc5IZfRehCwm20tVd4DjcYMcKCnko0bWCfVYpxjq9ifVmUlBcsM-MbW_r5OEdPAvWJi1_IjK4/s1600-h/17053_578524280899_35802622_33882177_3677210_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis40CgatBrI1xvVjHGYhL4oTtzWw_ido4abaUzHh3GuDK4dEwza7OceHoTjZOJozHOjfWFc5IZfRehCwm20tVd4DjcYMcKCnko0bWCfVYpxjq9ifVmUlBcsM-MbW_r5OEdPAvWJi1_IjK4/s400/17053_578524280899_35802622_33882177_3677210_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422304810593206706" /></a><br /><br />I am not one for goals. Not being a linear thinker, it has always been hard for me to track progress and find success in the steps. Also, I seem to find too much guilt in process, so I tend to avoid them altogether. But it's the new year. And I have a tiny son and family who'd like to know him and time and energy (hah) to explore wonderful and fascinating things. So here's to starting it well.<br /><br />- blog 3-4 times per week (re: tiny son and fabulous items of fancy)<br />- walking with the tiny son (and whomever else would like to join us) 3 times each week<br />- drawing more. watercoloring illustrations. general and intentional creation. perhaps once a week to start? <br />- house is clean more often than not<br />- fresh bread every few weeks<br />- intentionally pursuing mom and non-mom relationships<br />- visit the library 1-2 times per month <br />- complete the following books this year:<br /> - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Christ-Plays-Ten-Thousand-Places/dp/0802828752">Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places</a><br /> - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jesus-Before-Christianity-Albert-Nolan/dp/1570754047">Jesus Before Christianity</a><br /> - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Infinite-Jest-David-Foster-Wallace/dp/0316921173">Infinite Jest</a><br /> (and fill in the blanks with the oodles of new fiction/etc. I've unintentionally accumulated in the last few months; i.e. Christy, The Hiding Place, Naked, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, miscellany Discworld, Teacher Man, Roverandom, Til We Have Faces, The Time Traveler's Wife.... you get the picture)<br />- make it to church more often than not<br />- be creative and financially efficient with meals<br />- wine nights with neighbors<br />- communicating more regularly with the girls and family<br />- creative and cheap date nights<br /><br />That's all I have. My brain is being overtaken by my nauseous and slowly recovering self, as the family decided to kick off the year with the most horrific stomach flu I've ever seen. Seriously. Lost five pounds in one night. Great beginning for the post-baby body plan. Hah. <br /><br />Also, thanks to my ridiculously awesome photographer brother, Michael Chiaravalle, for the lovely family photo.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-29933054859027990642009-05-06T23:27:00.000-07:002009-05-06T23:49:22.371-07:00still pregnant<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3662/3509009341_b5213b706a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3662/3509009341_b5213b706a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I am still pregnant and alive. my camera broke and that severely limits my visual blogging abilities. plus i am a non-communicative nerd. i apologize. (deep bow)<br /><br />so for the speedy update, we're doing GREAT!!! apparently pregnancy is the one health-related thing that my body has decided to do well. which is ridiculously awesome. all of my blood work looks like that of a normal, healthy person! woo-hoo! hopefully it will last. <br /><br />he moves quite a lot. it's beginning to slow down, now that he's running out of space, but often it feels like he has his own little yoga studio in my belly. apparently he enjoys listening to joey play music and kicking me in the bladder. also the beatles.<br /><br />the doctor is happy with all sides of he and i; she said we could gain as much weight as we wanted to now. ha. i've never eaten so much in my life. joey is becoming quite the cook, and i've never loved cheerios so much. the acid reflux had gotten so bad that my esophagus was burned (literally!), but zantac is a miracle drug and has changed my life. it's nice to be able to breathe and sleep at the same time. <br /><br />sorry it's so brief, sorry for the long wait, but i'm back and off to bed. trying to save up sleep for when it comes no more.heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1436755177116298203.post-74742187968063067612009-01-22T21:16:00.000-08:002009-01-22T23:47:07.791-08:00poppingI got into bed the other night and Joey said, "Wow, you're really starting to get a belly there!" Being the good-natured pregnant woman that I am, I laughed, "Ha-ha-ha!"<br /><br />Ha. <br /><br />I'm only up 3 pounds or so, but MAN it seems like more. It's popping out. Especially at night. Oh the joy.<br /><br />Also, apparently during pregnancy if you don't have an immune system (due to your gastrointestinal auto-immune disease), you become a walking petri dish. Got any spare germs? Send 'em my way! We've got a party going on in my sinuses! All night long! BYO Kleenex! Fun.<br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Braxton_Hicks_contractions">Braxton-Hicks</a> have started already. Odd and only occasionally disconcerting. Upside: women who have more BH earlier tend to have shorter labors! Woo-hoo! I'm still being really careful. My doctor was very clear last time we went (Good solid heartbeat! Sweet!), so I'm being good. <br /><br />Anyway, here's what we've all been waiting for:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3477/3219083175_87376801cf.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3477/3219083175_87376801cf.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>heidi annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07417566344345988848noreply@blogger.com3