tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351194782024-03-13T13:30:38.497-05:00The White FamilyWhere there is great Love
There are always MiraclesRachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-23704179338617641542010-06-15T17:21:00.005-05:002010-06-15T17:33:53.845-05:00Better get used to disappointment kid!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TBf91e4rIDI/AAAAAAAABp4/krMcwC5SGy0/s1600/coolsammy3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TBf91e4rIDI/AAAAAAAABp4/krMcwC5SGy0/s320/coolsammy3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483130166612533298" border="0" /></a>When Sam turned three, the only thing he wanted was a fisher-price garage. It cost $30, which was a lot for our law schooling selves. But it was all he talked about for months. So that's what he got.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TBf9h1NB60I/AAAAAAAABpw/CsCwEO-m9C0/s1600/Presents3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TBf9h1NB60I/AAAAAAAABpw/CsCwEO-m9C0/s320/Presents3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483129829006109506" border="0" /></a>When Benjamin turned three, he wanted a car cake and a batman toy. Easy. Very easy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TBf9aa4Y0GI/AAAAAAAABpo/HO_oI0pBDss/s1600/IMG_0473.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TBf9aa4Y0GI/AAAAAAAABpo/HO_oI0pBDss/s320/IMG_0473.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483129701681123426" border="0" /></a>When Nicholas turned three, he didn't want anything but a Wall-E cake. He didn't want a party. He didn't want presents {but he got them anyway}. He just really wanted a Wall-E cake. The pressure weighed heavy on my non-cake decorating skills, but he was happy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TBf9OdjOSTI/AAAAAAAABpg/gCoejxhdR0A/s1600/IMG_0070.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TBf9OdjOSTI/AAAAAAAABpg/gCoejxhdR0A/s320/IMG_0070.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483129496239229234" border="0" /></a>Eliana turns three in August. {How is it possible that my tiny baby is turning three?} And what does our little girl want for her birthday? A pony. Not a my little pony. Not a fuzzy stuffed pony. She wants, as she puts it "A real pony. That makes noise and I can ride on it and it breathes."<br /><br />Good luck with that one, Eliana. For your sake, I hope the birthday fairy is real.Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-58939888581180390032010-06-08T21:46:00.007-05:002010-06-08T23:09:02.418-05:00Just so all four are representedI've been taking an on-line photography class. It's fun for me, but not so much for the kids. Eliana absolutely refuses to pose for pictures any more. And Nicholas will only do so if he can pick his pose.<br /><br />So here are some of Nicholas' ideas of a good pose.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TA8DcZ8gVmI/AAAAAAAABpA/9re3MHSjizg/s1600/av4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TA8DcZ8gVmI/AAAAAAAABpA/9re3MHSjizg/s320/av4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480603058069067362" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TA8DzgR731I/AAAAAAAABpI/oY4Qi5ki9T0/s1600/av3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TA8DzgR731I/AAAAAAAABpI/oY4Qi5ki9T0/s320/av3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480603454906556242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TA8ESDHJVyI/AAAAAAAABpQ/Fa4Tfsd6K8Q/s1600/p1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TA8ESDHJVyI/AAAAAAAABpQ/Fa4Tfsd6K8Q/s320/p1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480603979652618018" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TA8Evrv-oJI/AAAAAAAABpY/dYn83Bz3JRQ/s1600/p2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/TA8Evrv-oJI/AAAAAAAABpY/dYn83Bz3JRQ/s320/p2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480604488777506962" border="0" /></a>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-9813931920547754082010-06-08T21:45:00.000-05:002010-06-08T23:02:00.638-05:00Piano Recital 2010Sam and Benjamin have been taking piano lessons for a while now. It makes me happy to see them play the piano. It does not make me happy to have to remind them to practice. I've told them that when they are adults, they'll be glad they know how to play. But that doesn't mean much to an eight and 10 year old boy.<br /><br />Still, we keep plugging along.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Because I'm the mom and I said so.<br /></div><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/reRIbg6IuWA&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/reRIbg6IuWA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-67786118879220557252010-06-08T21:41:00.002-05:002010-06-08T21:45:40.642-05:00My Ballerina BunnyI signed Ellie up for Ballet in December. She wasn't sure if she wanted to do it, but I knew that she loved it and really wanted to be a little ballerina. Watching her every week is so fun! She had her recital on Saturday and it was perfect! I, of course, had to bribe her with a new pony and a pink cake - but it was totally worth it.<br /><br />If this video does not make your heart melt, you are not human.<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ukr6rzjh790&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ukr6rzjh790&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-8669788335881545452010-04-27T15:14:00.002-05:002010-04-27T15:15:01.497-05:00Will wonders never cease?There are three - count them - three new posts below this. Amazing, I know.Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-52372811189595403292010-04-27T14:17:00.004-05:002010-04-27T14:24:15.613-05:00Reader's Digest VersionDear Sorry, Neglected, Pathetically and embarrassingly lame blog,<br /><br />I apologize for forgetting about you. I promise to {TRY} to be better about updating you. I hope that we can still be friends. <br /><br />Here's what you missed in the long four months you've spent pining away for me:<br /><br />Nicholas turned four.<br />Nicholas got potty trained (after a year and a half of trying!)<br /><br />Benjamin turned eight.<br />Benjamin got baptized.<br />We went to the Great Wolf Lodge to celebrate.<br /><br />Sam turned 10. YIKES!<br /><br />Eliana grew slightly more hair. Still rocking the mullet, though.<br /><br />Kenai . . . who knew a dog could be so much trouble.<br />Broke his elbow. Had to have surgery to have pins put in. Pins fell out. Had to have pins re-inserted, and a cast put on. While in the cast, re-broke his elbow. Vet got very, VERY angry about that. Spent 10 days at the kennel so the vet could be in charge. Came home good as new - although slightly more of an investment.<br /><br />Everyone did the annual bluebonnet pictures.<br /><br />Josh and Rachel spent a week in Hawaii.<br /><br />Whew! Just the dog alone is reason enough to keep me from blogging. <br /><br />Pictures may or may not follow. You can't expect things to change all at once. I'm just saying.Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-81012689174881623772010-04-27T12:55:00.001-05:002010-04-27T15:13:42.317-05:00HawaiiFor Valentine's day, Josh surprised me with a trip to Hawaii. We had to wait for his schedule to clear, so we didn't go until last week. It was fabulous! We spent five days on the island of <a href="http://www.molokai-hawaii.com/">Molokai</a>. It's a smaller island - no stop lights, no chain restaurants, one grocery store - island living at it's best. We had a condo right on the beach - it was perfect!<br /><br />We had fresh mangos and pineapple. We had macadamia nuts right from the tree. We walked the beach for hours every morning. We drove through a rainforest (and I freaked out when the one lane road dirt road high on the mountain had no guard rails to protect us from the bazillion mile drop). We saw whales as we sat on the beach. We saw a Hawaiian Monk Seal (not as well groomed as they are in a zoo). We collected hundreds of shells an coral. It was the most amazingly perfect week ever!<br /><br />There is nothing better than a vacation to Hawaii! I'm still trying to convince Josh we need to move there. Keep your fingers crossed!<br /><br />Please forgive the picture overload, but you have to see it all. Besides, I only pick a few from the 500+ pictures we took. Consider yourselves lucky.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c-Q7rXzmI/AAAAAAAABmk/WK2UGuIr0Y4/s1600/IMG_0348.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c-Q7rXzmI/AAAAAAAABmk/WK2UGuIr0Y4/s320/IMG_0348.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464905133455822434" border="0" /></a>The view from our Lanai.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c-QdNk38I/AAAAAAAABmc/kHSWlnUDBzM/s1600/IMG_0346.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c-QdNk38I/AAAAAAAABmc/kHSWlnUDBzM/s320/IMG_0346.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464905125277786050" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c-RZOSVNI/AAAAAAAABms/6gvZV_wfR6Q/s1600/IMG_0359.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c-RZOSVNI/AAAAAAAABms/6gvZV_wfR6Q/s320/IMG_0359.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464905141386892498" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c_KFrqiVI/AAAAAAAABnE/6t3QCCCtH1I/s1600/IMG_0400.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c_KFrqiVI/AAAAAAAABnE/6t3QCCCtH1I/s320/IMG_0400.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464906115393947986" border="0" /></a>Papohaku Beach. I think it's three miles long. And we only ever saw one other person on it.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c_Jmz8__I/AAAAAAAABm8/_J5VfM02KDw/s1600/IMG_0396.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c_Jmz8__I/AAAAAAAABm8/_J5VfM02KDw/s320/IMG_0396.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464906107107213298" border="0" /></a>Hawaiian Monk Seal.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c_JJCFdOI/AAAAAAAABm0/oAVqNOvnL6I/s1600/IMG_0382.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c_JJCFdOI/AAAAAAAABm0/oAVqNOvnL6I/s320/IMG_0382.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464906099113424098" border="0" /></a>The grocery store in Maunaloa Town. So cute!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dAuwcG4XI/AAAAAAAABnk/l4aBzrFh-aE/s1600/IMG_0503.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dAuwcG4XI/AAAAAAAABnk/l4aBzrFh-aE/s320/IMG_0503.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464907844858339698" border="0" /></a>The view down to Kalaupapa - the Leper colony.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dCPRLq2_I/AAAAAAAABns/uatt-5FwGkY/s1600/IMG_0508.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dCPRLq2_I/AAAAAAAABns/uatt-5FwGkY/s320/IMG_0508.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464909502915206130" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dCPzUuXzI/AAAAAAAABn0/ViPE_eyBu4E/s1600/IMG_0512.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dCPzUuXzI/AAAAAAAABn0/ViPE_eyBu4E/s320/IMG_0512.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464909512079990578" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dAuXkLf_I/AAAAAAAABnc/4DS2sxDa424/s1600/IMG_0466.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dAuXkLf_I/AAAAAAAABnc/4DS2sxDa424/s320/IMG_0466.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464907838181310450" border="0" /></a>Josh exploring the tide pools at the Moomomi Preserve.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dAuNaYh4I/AAAAAAAABnU/PVlUizGNalo/s1600/IMG_0406.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dAuNaYh4I/AAAAAAAABnU/PVlUizGNalo/s320/IMG_0406.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464907835455866754" border="0" /></a>The island of Maui in the background.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dCQc_-TII/AAAAAAAABn8/rGnsnAL5mSw/s1600/IMG_0517.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dCQc_-TII/AAAAAAAABn8/rGnsnAL5mSw/s320/IMG_0517.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464909523267243138" border="0" /></a>The scary price of gas. And only two gas stations on the island. But have no fear - you can also buy diapers, ice coolers, big screen TVs and fresh fruit while you fill up.</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dDFkwv9JI/AAAAAAAABoU/TXQ3vplORnU/s1600/IMG_0686.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dDFkwv9JI/AAAAAAAABoU/TXQ3vplORnU/s320/IMG_0686.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464910435883938962" border="0" /></a>Surfers.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dDEze5j-I/AAAAAAAABoM/CGtm0ubrOAI/s1600/IMG_0670.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dDEze5j-I/AAAAAAAABoM/CGtm0ubrOAI/s320/IMG_0670.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464910422655733730" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dDEhDSHTI/AAAAAAAABoE/qBynU56GQ74/s1600/IMG_0580.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dDEhDSHTI/AAAAAAAABoE/qBynU56GQ74/s320/IMG_0580.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464910417708064050" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dErNADQ3I/AAAAAAAABo0/ebSrbq0w04s/s1600/IMG_0819.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dErNADQ3I/AAAAAAAABo0/ebSrbq0w04s/s320/IMG_0819.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464912181852324722" border="0" /></a>Organic Papaya grown at <a href="http://kumufarms.com/">Kumu Farms</a>.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dEqZCl5BI/AAAAAAAABos/CG6XUeInMpk/s1600/IMG_0814.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dEqZCl5BI/AAAAAAAABos/CG6XUeInMpk/s320/IMG_0814.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464912167904338962" border="0" /></a>The royal coconut grove, planted by King Kamehameha V in 1860.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dEpwrs0UI/AAAAAAAABok/gcy-nGmwmWM/s1600/IMG_0786.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dEpwrs0UI/AAAAAAAABok/gcy-nGmwmWM/s320/IMG_0786.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464912157070905666" border="0" /></a>The view from the back of the condos.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dEpa7Hp_I/AAAAAAAABoc/RYB_6IwQGWA/s1600/IMG_0717.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9dEpa7Hp_I/AAAAAAAABoc/RYB_6IwQGWA/s320/IMG_0717.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464912151229999090" border="0" /></a>One of the whales we saw from the beach.</div>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-8102894900908751072010-04-27T12:24:00.000-05:002010-04-27T14:39:09.995-05:00Bluebonnets 2010How could we call ourselves Texans without bluebonnet pictures? {Not that we call ourselves Texans. I'm not quite sure what we are. Except Texas trend followers}.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c8z6P8EVI/AAAAAAAABmU/6IgohDXBUjY/s1600/bb15-2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c8z6P8EVI/AAAAAAAABmU/6IgohDXBUjY/s320/bb15-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464903535344488786" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c8zXMYOTI/AAAAAAAABmM/2Gaar4lxdIo/s1600/bb13.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c8zXMYOTI/AAAAAAAABmM/2Gaar4lxdIo/s320/bb13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464903525934315826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c8yja-8SI/AAAAAAAABmE/pEuF8uXRR-o/s1600/BB2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c8yja-8SI/AAAAAAAABmE/pEuF8uXRR-o/s320/BB2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464903512036929826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c75NdK2WI/AAAAAAAABl8/p3EuuekMSpM/s1600/bb7.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c75NdK2WI/AAAAAAAABl8/p3EuuekMSpM/s320/bb7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464902526887975266" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c74JT5QUI/AAAAAAAABl0/nPS0pc-yIUM/s1600/bb4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/S9c74JT5QUI/AAAAAAAABl0/nPS0pc-yIUM/s320/bb4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464902508595462466" border="0" /></a>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-3910739328629811222009-12-30T13:53:00.003-06:002009-12-30T14:09:37.504-06:00On the subject of animalsI am not a pet kind of person. We had pets when I was growing up - guinea pigs, rabbits, and cats. I even had my own cat, Sabrina. But then I went to college and promptly lost all interest in animals. I have nothing against them -- they are fun to look at and fun to play with. I just didn't want to live with them. So it was fate that I met Josh.<br /><br />Here's how our first conversation went:<br />Me: Hi I'm Rachel.<br />Josh: Hi I'm Josh.<br />Me: I don't like pets.<br />Josh: Me neither.<br />Me: I never, EVER want to have pets . . . especially stinky dogs.<br />Josh: Me neither.<br />Me: Want to get married?<br />Josh: Sure.<br /><br />For years we lived happy in the knowledge that our house would be animal free. But then we met these guys:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SzuwIqfx7tI/AAAAAAAABkU/WwZk6iP18Io/s1600-h/09kids2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SzuwIqfx7tI/AAAAAAAABkU/WwZk6iP18Io/s320/09kids2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421120239363550930" border="0" /></a>And all they did for YEARS was ask for pets. Thankfully we had perfect responses to their constant badgering. . .<br />"Why can't we have a dog?" {Because Mom and Sam are allergic to them} Hallelujah!<br />"Why can't we have a cat?" {Because Dad and Sam are allergic to them} Take that!<br />"All my friends have animals." {We are not your friends!}<br /><br />But then came the kicker . . . "I'm not going to ask for anything else for Christmas but a dog." {You've got to be kidding me!}<br /><br />So Josh and I did what any kind, caring, loving parent would do - we told them we would NEVER get a dog. EVER.<br /><br />And then we went out and bought this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SzuwJKliINI/AAAAAAAABkc/3RE8XxhpJPg/s1600-h/kenai.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SzuwJKliINI/AAAAAAAABkc/3RE8XxhpJPg/s320/kenai.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421120247977615570" border="0" /></a>Meet Kenai. He's a 11 week old Yorkshire Terrier, which happens to be a hypoallergenic breed of dog. {There goes the allergy argument!} He pees on the carpet occasionally. He cries A.L.L. night long. And the smell of his food makes me want to throw-up every morning. But the kids all love him. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE. him. They take him for walks. They make sure he visits the puppy pad every hour. They get him fresh water. They play with him. They fight over who gets to snuggle him when he's tired. Never was there a dog so loved. Never were there kids so happy. And never were there parents so glad they changed their mind.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SzuwIaHGE0I/AAAAAAAABkM/9he4vQcHPs4/s1600-h/elliedog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SzuwIaHGE0I/AAAAAAAABkM/9he4vQcHPs4/s320/elliedog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421120234965046082" border="0" /></a>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-45259995123290281152009-11-14T23:01:00.002-06:002009-11-14T23:06:41.265-06:00Reflection contestHere is Sam's entry for the 2009 Reflections Contest at school. The kid's got an eye for photography. I think he could teach me a thing or two.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sv-MRch2ijI/AAAAAAAABkE/l56M3BLb5ps/s1600-h/sunset.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 172px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sv-MRch2ijI/AAAAAAAABkE/l56M3BLb5ps/s320/sunset.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404192309211728434" border="0" /></a>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-13151296079019274792009-11-11T21:16:00.006-06:002009-11-11T21:26:54.858-06:00Halloween 2009<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Svt-18cSUUI/AAAAAAAABjc/GHJh5d0JapU/s1600-h/halloween2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Svt-18cSUUI/AAAAAAAABjc/GHJh5d0JapU/s320/halloween2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403051643183976770" border="0" /></a>Late. Late. Late. But here are the kids in all their spooky splendor.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Svt-cP8gw3I/AAAAAAAABjE/6vGw77jZoU0/s1600-h/halloween3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Svt-cP8gw3I/AAAAAAAABjE/6vGw77jZoU0/s320/halloween3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403051201742816114" border="0" /></a>Sam as Mr. Headless Horseman. A creation of his own {although he was in such a hurry to get candy, he couldn't be bothered to find his black pants. At least it was dark.}<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Svt-lCgyQ8I/AAAAAAAABjM/H-mrODKE3Yw/s1600-h/halloween4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Svt-lCgyQ8I/AAAAAAAABjM/H-mrODKE3Yw/s320/halloween4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403051352755684290" border="0" /></a>Benjamin as Indiana Jones.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SvuAEfmcZqI/AAAAAAAABjk/LPi7sNAmxk4/s1600-h/halloween1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SvuAEfmcZqI/AAAAAAAABjk/LPi7sNAmxk4/s320/halloween1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403052992651617954" border="0" /></a>Nicholas as a scary dragon<br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SvuAUXe8TMI/AAAAAAAABjs/d0kT2ItC-Do/s1600-h/halloween5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SvuAUXe8TMI/AAAAAAAABjs/d0kT2ItC-Do/s320/halloween5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403053265350577346" border="0" /></a><br />Eliana as a ghost. {Originally, she wanted to be cookie monster. And I made a cute cookie monster costume. But once I added the eyes, she wanted nothing to do with it. So, I scrounged around the house and came up with this ghost costume. Not as cute, but it did the job. She didn't want to take pictures either. She just wanted to get candy! Eliana has already decided that next year she wants to be a mean witch or the big bad wolf. Hopeless.}Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-31112338957289889522009-10-26T14:50:00.002-05:002009-10-26T14:55:26.219-05:00Unprepared<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SuX9r27JoyI/AAAAAAAABi0/enRk6p9V_m0/s1600-h/eliana1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SuX9r27JoyI/AAAAAAAABi0/enRk6p9V_m0/s320/eliana1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396998658393219874" border="0" /></a><br />As a mother, there are times when I am caught completely off guard. Like Benjamin picking broccoli over french fries. Or Nicholas' ability to climb. But nothing could have prepared me for Eliana this morning. In her cute little voice she said, "Mom, I have pockets in my pants. Pockets can hold things. Where's my weapon? My pockets need a weapon!"Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-78775634958407525602009-10-23T16:13:00.005-05:002009-10-23T16:54:08.683-05:00The funniness of BenjaminBenjamin is a very unusual kid. He is overflowing with book smarts and he's very proud of this. One of the things that makes Benjamin unique is his love of words. He loves to learn new words {sometimes very large words} and use them regularly. For example - Josh and I were having a conversation about the cost of something - maybe taxes. And Benjamin piped in with "I'm not sure I understand all the facts you have been talking about, but I do understand the money issue and I think that is outrageous!" {word for word quote}<br /><br />The kid is seven.<br /><br />Benjamin's word of the moment is assume. He uses it so much that I find myself wanting to say "You know what happens when you assume . . ." Instead I pointed out that he uses the word a lot and asked him to cut down. He said, "Mom you have no idea how hard it is to come up with new words to use to impress people."<br /><br />Today after school, the boys wanted to have friends over. Our rule is there are no friends over until the bedroom is clean. Sam had already cleaned his mess and told Benjamin, who was unloading the dishwasher, that he would clean Benjamin's mess. Then Sam said Benjamin would owe him big time. This, of course, made Benjamin ask me if it was true. I told Sam that Benjamin didn't owe him anything. And Benjamin said, "Yeah Sam. Goodness is it's own reward."<br /><br />And lastly . . . no offense is meant by this comment. And I promise {just like the other three examples}, I have no idea where he gets these things. . . So Sam was decorating a pumpkin for a school project. The theme was "Favorite Book Character." Sam choose to decorate his pumpkin like a Bugger from the book <span style="font-style: italic;">Ender's Game</span>. He made a preliminary sketch to follow. Benjamin took one look at the sketch and said, "I'm not sure this is the look you are going for Sam, but your drawing looks like an ant mixed with a Mexican Robber."<br /><br />You be the judge.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SuIhyHhx0CI/AAAAAAAABis/jg--q4VvCcQ/s1600-h/bugger.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SuIhyHhx0CI/AAAAAAAABis/jg--q4VvCcQ/s320/bugger.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395912448441176098" border="0" /></a>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-9490539728605868772009-10-18T20:30:00.002-05:002009-10-18T20:39:05.657-05:00Eliana's dreamsThe other night, Eliana woke up crying. She was just terrified of something, so I let her sleep with me. When she woke up, I asked her if she remembered what she was scared of. She said that there were geckos dropping from the sky and crawling all over her back. "Too many geckos got on me!" <br /><br />The next morning, as I was changing her diaper, she looked at me and asked "Why?" I asked her what she was talking about. She said, "Why were you squishing my poops last night? Poops are gross. We don't play with poops mom." <br /><br />And the next morning, she woke up and said that she had a dream about hurting her eye at the jumping place. It was so real for her, she had to look at her "owie" in the mirror to be convinced she was fine.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">So to sum it up - Eliana's dreams are filled with geckos, poops, and bruises. <br /><br />Where are the princesses and sunshine and butterflies? <br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">And what does she want to be for Halloween?<br /><br />A vampire or scary monster.<br /><br />Lucky me.<br /><br />{I'm going to make <a href="http://notsoidlehands.blogspot.com/2009/08/freecycle-friday-faux-makeup-for-your.html">these</a> and shove girly down her throat!}<br /><br /></div>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-81071122021065764232009-10-08T20:56:00.002-05:002009-10-08T21:00:53.494-05:00We raise 'em sassy hereNicholas hung a "no girl's allowed" sign on his door. I told him Ellie was a girl and asked if she could come in. He said, "No girls allowed." I told him I was a girl and asked if I could come in. He said, "The person that cleans my room can come in when it's messy."<br /><br />Nicholas and Eliana were fighting over her pony toys. I told him to give the pony back. Nicholas told me, "I don't want to hear any more of your noise in my ears."<br /><br />Eliana has a disgusting habit of drinking the bathwater. This morning I told her that drinking bathwater would make her tummy sick. She told me, "Oh yeah? Prove it."<br /><br />At two and almost four years old, how can the innocence be gone? And how am I going to survive their teenage years?Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-21788097309387414172009-10-07T16:57:00.003-05:002009-10-07T16:58:48.838-05:00Happy Halloween!<div style='background-color:#e9e9e9; width: 425px;'><object id='A64060' quality='high' data='http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=OyfGxCeDKlmKzcht&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab' pluginspage='http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' wmode='transparent' height='319' width='425'><param name='wmode' value='transparent'></param><param name='movie' value='http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/client/zero/ClientZero_EmbedViewer.swf?external_make_id=OyfGxCeDKlmKzcht&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab'></param><param name='scaleMode' value='showAll'></param><param name='quality' value='high'></param><param name='allowNetworking' value='all'></param><param name='allowFullScreen' value='true' /><param name='FlashVars' value='external_make_id=OyfGxCeDKlmKzcht&service=sendables.jibjab.com&partnerID=JibJab'></param><param name='allowScriptAccess' value='always'></param></object><div style='text-align:center; width:435px; margin-top:6px;'>Try JibJab Sendables® <a href='http://sendables.jibjab.com/ecards'>eCards</a> today!</div></div>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-44359167982749103022009-09-09T13:21:00.005-05:002009-09-09T13:36:23.700-05:00Round ThreeAfter the older boys were back in school, I started doing a little preschool at home with Nicholas and Eliana. We're just learning a letter a day - trying to keep it simple. We learn the letter and its sound, practice writing it, make a letter craft, then read stories relating to the letter. When we've completed the whole alphabet, we'll move on to numbers and then it's back to letters.<br /><br />Nicholas and Ellie call it "Mommy Preschool." I call it "I'm sorry that you are almost four and I'm only now beginning to talk with you about the alphabet" school. Thank goodness he doesn't start kindergarten for another two years . . . maybe by then we'll be caught up. At least Ellie will be ahead of the game.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sqfy1n3rVNI/AAAAAAAABiU/JSoV5Tx7G6s/s1600-h/IMG_0023.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 312px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sqfy1n3rVNI/AAAAAAAABiU/JSoV5Tx7G6s/s320/IMG_0023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379535282966844626" border="0" /></a>A is for Alligator<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sqfy1OGihzI/AAAAAAAABiM/KdEaiSNHOvc/s1600-h/IMG_0015.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sqfy1OGihzI/AAAAAAAABiM/KdEaiSNHOvc/s320/IMG_0015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379535276049860402" border="0" /></a>E is for Elephant<br />The multi-colored elephants are because we read this story.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sqfz4l70UgI/AAAAAAAABic/iJ2s-k9ZgQU/s1600-h/51D0NTRK99L._SS400_.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sqfz4l70UgI/AAAAAAAABic/iJ2s-k9ZgQU/s320/51D0NTRK99L._SS400_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379536433498575362" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">And tomorrow . . . it's G for Gruffalo.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sqf0-GamS6I/AAAAAAAABik/z8OrUBdS3Sw/s1600-h/gruffalo1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Sqf0-GamS6I/AAAAAAAABik/z8OrUBdS3Sw/s320/gruffalo1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379537627628587938" border="0" /></a>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-36994913087384869312009-08-28T08:27:00.001-05:002009-08-28T08:29:23.361-05:00Too cute to miss out onHolly is giving away a box of adorable cute pumpkins. Go check it out <a href="http://bloggingwithholly.blogspot.com/2009/08/more-requests-for-pumpkins.html">here</a>.Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-2584548080338478882009-08-26T13:51:00.007-05:002009-08-26T14:08:40.179-05:00A New Chapter<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWGK1eYi8I/AAAAAAAABhs/vxyS8fDeD_w/s1600-h/boys1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWGK1eYi8I/AAAAAAAABhs/vxyS8fDeD_w/s320/boys1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374349251047885762" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">August 2004</span><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWGL5z2KAI/AAAAAAAABh8/9Nt5q0aLvok/s1600-h/boys3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 294px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWGL5z2KAI/AAAAAAAABh8/9Nt5q0aLvok/s320/boys3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374349269391517698" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWGLduto8I/AAAAAAAABh0/iSCEPX6kJAk/s1600-h/boys2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWGLduto8I/AAAAAAAABh0/iSCEPX6kJAk/s320/boys2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374349261853795266" border="0" /></a>In August of 2004 Sam started pre-k, and after a few weeks decided he liked school. Today was Sam's sixth first day of school. He started fourth grade. It's his last year of elementary school. He is part of the "biggest kids at school" group. Watching him leave for school this morning was hard. How is he growing up so fast and how can I stop it? How do I only have nine years left until he graduates from high school. The past nine years have flown by. How do I make the next nine years slow down?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWFfpVk9LI/AAAAAAAABhc/k2f4oNpInmE/s1600-h/s1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWFfpVk9LI/AAAAAAAABhc/k2f4oNpInmE/s320/s1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374348509055349938" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWFgCU5DGI/AAAAAAAABhk/Cngo-pC2gik/s1600-h/s2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWFgCU5DGI/AAAAAAAABhk/Cngo-pC2gik/s320/s2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374348515763358818" border="0" /></a>And Benjamin . . . how did he get to be so wise, so confident, so funny? Just yesterday he was a tiny little boy, and now he's in second grade. Next year he'll be at school all by himself. How is it possible that my little Benjamin is big enough to even be in school?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWFesbp_qI/AAAAAAAABhM/-zlYulIwCwI/s1600-h/b1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWFesbp_qI/AAAAAAAABhM/-zlYulIwCwI/s320/b1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374348492706283170" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWFfChW4GI/AAAAAAAABhU/CcfyPHr7VYs/s1600-h/b2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SpWFfChW4GI/AAAAAAAABhU/CcfyPHr7VYs/s320/b2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374348498635776098" border="0" /></a>I'm so excited for the boys. They both have great teachers and they have great friends. They are going to have a fantastic year. Still, I can't help but notice the quiet in the house this afternoon. I don't have to break up any fights or broker any peace treaties, but I also don't have my buddies to hang out with. I don't have Sam to show me what cool things he just invented or Benjamin to share some odd fact he just read. It's the first day of school and I miss them already.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> It's going to be a long year.<br /></div>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-51428898291033841702009-08-13T21:39:00.008-05:002009-08-13T21:57:33.780-05:00The Nature of the BeastsHaving Sam and Nicholas together is like having a lion and tiger together. Both frightfully strong willed and stubborn. Both eager to fight and assert dominance. And even though Sam is five and a half years older that Nicholas, we can never really be sure who will win the match. Nicholas got the point this time, and we all got a good laugh.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> (Nicholas is the one wielding the water gun and Sam is the one trying to escape.)<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='382' height='316' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyq2U86XVF5mQX0c8jS7O_F9jpMh1a_4QWz5eRxe9ATdLJsgsK-VmLT_PhjNyv_UtKLn8vG6ozZYiw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-69245243334529601232009-08-12T11:17:00.004-05:002009-08-12T11:22:34.383-05:00I can't believe it's that time againLast Friday was Eliana's second birthday. It's hard to believe that in two years, our beautiful little princess has grown from this<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SoLr3iBpgfI/AAAAAAAABhE/vUEt_2Te3bY/s1600-h/DSC02505.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SoLr3iBpgfI/AAAAAAAABhE/vUEt_2Te3bY/s320/DSC02505.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369113045038105074" border="0" /></a>to this.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SoLr275f7WI/AAAAAAAABg8/-1rJWdE-DPo/s1600-h/IMG_0101.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SoLr275f7WI/AAAAAAAABg8/-1rJWdE-DPo/s320/IMG_0101.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369113034803375458" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SoLr2vUdb9I/AAAAAAAABg0/vgqOzfpoeX8/s1600-h/IMG_0094.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SoLr2vUdb9I/AAAAAAAABg0/vgqOzfpoeX8/s320/IMG_0094.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369113031426797522" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SoLr2ELqJoI/AAAAAAAABgs/EsX0UTST-Z4/s1600-h/IMG_0093.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SoLr2ELqJoI/AAAAAAAABgs/EsX0UTST-Z4/s320/IMG_0093.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369113019847157378" border="0" /></a>Round four of the terrible two's.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />Bring. It. On.<br /></div>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-80064650296549246302009-07-23T14:30:00.006-05:002009-07-23T14:50:04.436-05:00Ellie's Birthday Party<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi9TGfk-nI/AAAAAAAABgg/vvO4hlt52oA/s1600-h/birthday6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi9TGfk-nI/AAAAAAAABgg/vvO4hlt52oA/s320/birthday6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361743492242799218" border="0" /></a>We had Ellie's birthday last Friday. It was really simple and she loved it! She had definite ideas of what she wanted at her party . . . some worked, some not so much. We started off with bubbles, which were a big hit - even for the older boys.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi9IP5hxxI/AAAAAAAABgQ/yJY9R_EzGtA/s1600-h/birthday7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi9IP5hxxI/AAAAAAAABgQ/yJY9R_EzGtA/s320/birthday7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361743305788999442" border="0" /></a>Then the girls got their tutus and wands for dancing. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi7HcrX8DI/AAAAAAAABfo/T-Q_qXu9gC4/s1600-h/tutu1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi7HcrX8DI/AAAAAAAABfo/T-Q_qXu9gC4/s320/tutu1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361741093016170546" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi7GhIczAI/AAAAAAAABfg/E3jACT-Z4vk/s1600-h/tutu3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 107px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi7GhIczAI/AAAAAAAABfg/E3jACT-Z4vk/s320/tutu3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361741077031996418" border="0" /></a>Ellie LOVES to dance. She loves to twirl and prance and all sorts of girly things. However, at her party, she would not dance at all. I even put on her favorite Wiggles song - the Shimmy Shake. But we had no shimmying and no shaking. We had catatonic stares from Ellie and Chole, and crying from Reagan. Thankfully Riley busted a move and made the dancing worthwhile.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi8I2Q0oeI/AAAAAAAABfw/jd6Subfpbp8/s1600-h/birthday1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 304px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi8I2Q0oeI/AAAAAAAABfw/jd6Subfpbp8/s320/birthday1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361742216575623650" border="0" /></a>Then we had cupcakes and fruit and cookies -- all per Ellie's request. We even had a princess tablecloth that she picked out. The boys were disgusted by the tablecloth and complained about it every time they walked past the table. What do they know?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi9H5TUEoI/AAAAAAAABgI/ZycQPByuELw/s1600-h/birthday4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi9H5TUEoI/AAAAAAAABgI/ZycQPByuELw/s320/birthday4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361743299723137666" border="0" /></a>After cupcakes came presents. Little girl toys are so much fun! She got a little Belle dress-up doll, a my little pony with a movie and stickers, a pink bubble machine, and a pony with its own purse. She was in HEAVEN!<br />Ellie's last request for her party was stories, but as soon as the presents came out, the stories were forgotten.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi8JzGtYRI/AAAAAAAABgA/Lrj7tP8pE3A/s1600-h/birthday3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi8JzGtYRI/AAAAAAAABgA/Lrj7tP8pE3A/s320/birthday3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361742232907768082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">{The only picture I was able to get with all four of them in it. Two year olds do NOT hold still for anything!}<br /><br /></span></span></div>It was a fun little party. She loved it! And I'm glad we got to have it before her little friend Reagan moves away. (although there's still time for Reagan's mom and dad to change their minds and realize that Waco is WAY better than Vegas. . .)<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi8Jfkb-QI/AAAAAAAABf4/FaZHSGqt7TA/s1600-h/birthday2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 223px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi8Jfkb-QI/AAAAAAAABf4/FaZHSGqt7TA/s320/birthday2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361742227663747330" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">{Reagan and Ellie, after Regan had some of my famous drugged cupcakes}</span></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi9IQj6LxI/AAAAAAAABgY/8WP5pUAfBtk/s1600-h/birthday5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/Smi9IQj6LxI/AAAAAAAABgY/8WP5pUAfBtk/s320/birthday5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361743305966759698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">{The only time Reagan wasn't crying . . . I think she's still mad at me because I tricked her into going to nursery at church and then left her to fend for herself}</span><br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Thanks for coming girls!</span><br /></span></div>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-59724952199746424452009-07-10T21:55:00.003-05:002009-07-10T22:08:34.674-05:00An Almost Birthday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlgCGSWitII/AAAAAAAABfY/brPPzgwGCHw/s1600-h/tutu1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlgCGSWitII/AAAAAAAABfY/brPPzgwGCHw/s320/tutu1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357034063786062978" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We've always had a party for the kids when they turn two. I'm not exactly sure why because at two, they could really care less about having friends over. And they only kind of get the present idea. Or maybe that's just boys . . .<br /><br />Eliana's birthday is a few weeks away. We're having a party early because one of her little friends is moving. When I asked Eliana if she wanted a party, she got really excited. Really excited. She said, "I want cookies and cupcakes and juice and fruit." And every time we go to the store, she asks if we're buying things for her party. She is constantly talking about the party - currently, she's added bubbles and dancing to her list of party ideas.<br /><br />I decided to make tutus for all her guests instead of a goody bag. I started on them when Eliana was napping, to lessen the amount of helping hands. When she woke up and saw the tutu, she was overjoyed. She ran to it and said, "Oh! It's for my party! I'm going to be a princess!" She had to have it on immediately. And then she begain dancing around on her tip toes (it's the honest truth!)<br /><br />But the best part came after the dancing stopped. She twirled around for the last time and said, "I look so pretty. I'm a princess! I love my party!"<br /><br />I can only imagine how excited she's going to be at the real party. Who knew girls could be so fun?Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-66243455078052821072009-07-06T12:11:00.008-05:002009-07-06T14:45:18.563-05:00Vacation Slide ShowAbout five hours south of Waco is a tiny little beach town called Port Aransas. Last week, we went there for the first time. It was wonderful! We went to the beach as soon as we got into town - and the kids loved it! Every morning, as soon as they woke up, they would ask when we were going to the beach. Eliana would practically jump out of her carseat as soon as she could see the ocean. It was a fabulous vacation! We're already planning our next trip to the beach.<br /><br />All of the kids tried body surfing. Some were more successful than others, but here are some highlights.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJTZxW3yZI/AAAAAAAABe4/-DW_AyWQR4o/s1600-h/1elliesand1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJTZxW3yZI/AAAAAAAABe4/-DW_AyWQR4o/s320/1elliesand1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355434609108044178" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJS8wPsbII/AAAAAAAABew/arjpcLtCofs/s1600-h/1littlesboard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJS8wPsbII/AAAAAAAABew/arjpcLtCofs/s320/1littlesboard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355434110593297538" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJS8U2kiMI/AAAAAAAABeo/1BmU09EAStY/s1600-h/1ellieboard1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJS8U2kiMI/AAAAAAAABeo/1BmU09EAStY/s320/1ellieboard1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355434103240165570" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJS8GMfiVI/AAAAAAAABeg/okRROBqOPcM/s1600-h/1ellieboard2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJS8GMfiVI/AAAAAAAABeg/okRROBqOPcM/s320/1ellieboard2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355434099305580882" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJS78pk-7I/AAAAAAAABeY/HTtVH8OJsZE/s1600-h/1ellieboard3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJS78pk-7I/AAAAAAAABeY/HTtVH8OJsZE/s320/1ellieboard3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355434096743218098" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJRgGEyuDI/AAAAAAAABeQ/5LL6mJAR_Qs/s1600-h/1nicholasboard1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJRgGEyuDI/AAAAAAAABeQ/5LL6mJAR_Qs/s320/1nicholasboard1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355432518725318706" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJRftO7zAI/AAAAAAAABeI/vcuK7ozdqmQ/s1600-h/1nicholasboard2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJRftO7zAI/AAAAAAAABeI/vcuK7ozdqmQ/s320/1nicholasboard2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355432512056970242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJRfQGJ1SI/AAAAAAAABeA/8u7k2JpfvP4/s1600-h/1samboard1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJRfQGJ1SI/AAAAAAAABeA/8u7k2JpfvP4/s320/1samboard1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355432504235513122" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJQVeNfDRI/AAAAAAAABdw/Wtupe7ca6FY/s1600-h/1boysboard1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJQVeNfDRI/AAAAAAAABdw/Wtupe7ca6FY/s320/1boysboard1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355431236714040594" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJQUz7pyVI/AAAAAAAABdo/3zUAgLWNIwk/s1600-h/1benjboard1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJQUz7pyVI/AAAAAAAABdo/3zUAgLWNIwk/s320/1benjboard1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355431225364957522" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We were also able to visit the Texas State Aquarium. They have a small dolphin pool where they show you how they train dolphins.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJUJJ7QyYI/AAAAAAAABfI/upxqbwCMQwQ/s1600-h/1boys1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJUJJ7QyYI/AAAAAAAABfI/upxqbwCMQwQ/s320/1boys1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355435423156980098" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJUIlFVOiI/AAAAAAAABfA/Ws28tBZnWQ4/s1600-h/1dolphis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SlJUIlFVOiI/AAAAAAAABfA/Ws28tBZnWQ4/s320/1dolphis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355435413267102242" border="0" /></a>Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35119478.post-52664384413773759042009-06-23T13:21:00.003-05:002009-06-23T13:27:48.300-05:00Daddy's Girl<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SkEdQBiwewI/AAAAAAAABcM/RI_kuBoCt-E/s1600-h/web+4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SkEdQBiwewI/AAAAAAAABcM/RI_kuBoCt-E/s400/web+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350589993422191362" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SkEdQHsgHfI/AAAAAAAABcE/wC8xLlvvYZo/s1600-h/web+3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SkEdQHsgHfI/AAAAAAAABcE/wC8xLlvvYZo/s400/web+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350589995073674738" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SkEdP2uuaJI/AAAAAAAABb8/Kjk1Li0_dJM/s1600-h/web+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kFodcX2GFpo/SkEdP2uuaJI/AAAAAAAABb8/Kjk1Li0_dJM/s400/web+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350589990519597202" border="0" /></a><br />The other night when dinner was over, Josh got up from the table. Eliana, who was still in her high chair, said (without any prompting) "Father, Don't leave me!" We all started laughing, so she started saying it over and over. Josh came back and took Eliana out of her chair and the two spent the evening together.<br /><br />Eliana is becoming a Daddy's girl. She asks for something and he delivers. Last night, for example, Josh was putting her to bed. She didn't want to go to bed, she wanted to stay up with everyone else. So she started to cry. Josh tried to soothe her by reading books and playing puppet theater with her stuffed animals. That wasn't enough. Eliana didn't want to be left out. Josh finally asked her if she wanted him to stay. She said yes, stopped crying immediately, and Josh spent the next hour in her room. <br /><br />I'm working on teaching Eliana to say "Father, would you please buy my mother some new clothes."Rachel Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16138727485208561620noreply@blogger.com5