<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747</id><updated>2011-07-29T04:10:32.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>no day but today</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-6302382968822266910</id><published>2010-10-28T21:07:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T22:13:36.978-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Far Away for Far Too Long</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo4lC2gb8I/AAAAAAAAAPs/FUqWCFp7nlo/s1600/084.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo4lC2gb8I/AAAAAAAAAPs/FUqWCFp7nlo/s320/084.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533297301249880002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;since it's been oh, what? close to a year since the last time i posted anything on this blog, i find myself not knowing where to start. imagine that! for awhile there, life was mostly about surviving and making sure my kids did too. then, there were so many changes happening at once that the last thing i had time to think about was writing them down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now that we have started to settle- at least a little- into our new routine, i decided the least i could do is post some pics of my precious babies. just to give a quick update, as of august, i am back to teaching full time, lorelei is in kindergarten, and everett james spends his days hanging out at mrs. janice's. and i feel like we're all adjusting quite well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0vZGzD2I/AAAAAAAAAPM/NWlrxGyFkxo/s1600/061.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0vZGzD2I/AAAAAAAAAPM/NWlrxGyFkxo/s320/061.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533293080975970146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i llllove my job and my students almost every day. and on the days i don't, i still feel abundantly blessed to be able to do something that i feel good about and make some small difference in the world. if i could hire some sort of education minion to do all my paperwork and grading for me, i'd have the perfect job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0u-ZmTtI/AAAAAAAAAO8/05zdYuIs7Uw/s1600/IMG_7968.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0u-ZmTtI/AAAAAAAAAO8/05zdYuIs7Uw/s320/IMG_7968.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533293073807068882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lorelei is doing really well so far at school, and she just loves her teacher, student teacher, and her new friends at spring valley. she also just finished her first season of soccer where- though definitely not the most competitive little athlete- she had a blast and looked cute doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0voinP3I/AAAAAAAAAPU/_2a9q9veHc8/s1600/028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0voinP3I/AAAAAAAAAPU/_2a9q9veHc8/s320/028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533293085119168370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am such a sucker for the fall weather, and when we have pretty days like today, the kids and i spend as much time outside as possible. i tried to get shots of them looking "fall-ish" after church one day, but of course these were the best ones i got:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0v0F3pTI/AAAAAAAAAPc/1uxmStiSjko/s1600/080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0v0F3pTI/AAAAAAAAAPc/1uxmStiSjko/s320/080.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533293088219833650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo6QepAwHI/AAAAAAAAAQE/XBCLzB033KA/s1600/081.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo6QepAwHI/AAAAAAAAAQE/XBCLzB033KA/s320/081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533299146955473010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everett is approaching his 3rd birthday so quickly that i wish i could yank on the emergency brake. he talks all day, every day now, whether the rest of the world understands him or not. some favorite words to use right now are "at-shully" and "i need...somefing!" he's working on potty training and doing pretty well most days, and his "big boy" bedding arrived last night via u.p.s. he's super excited about having a big boy bed soon as well as a construction themed birthday party. i had been calling it a dump truck party, but yesterday he said, "i change my mind. i want back-hoe party instead." hmmm...not sure they make those, son, but i'll see what i can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0vHUAaJI/AAAAAAAAAPE/m6jJ5Ej7Adk/s1600/IMG_7961.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo0vHUAaJI/AAAAAAAAAPE/m6jJ5Ej7Adk/s320/IMG_7961.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533293076199532690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's all the catching up i have time for right now, but in case anyone still looks at this blog, i'll leave you with a little more cuteness from uncle cody's wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo4ldTqEWI/AAAAAAAAAP0/N5kgaqJm_ZM/s1600/flower+girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo4ldTqEWI/AAAAAAAAAP0/N5kgaqJm_ZM/s320/flower+girl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533297308351467874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo4lvDzg3I/AAAAAAAAAP8/1UMzeqpQoF0/s1600/ring+bearer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo4lvDzg3I/AAAAAAAAAP8/1UMzeqpQoF0/s320/ring+bearer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533297313116816242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-6302382968822266910?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/6302382968822266910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=6302382968822266910' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/6302382968822266910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/6302382968822266910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2010/10/far-away-for-far-too-long.html' title='Far Away for Far Too Long'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/TMo4lC2gb8I/AAAAAAAAAPs/FUqWCFp7nlo/s72-c/084.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-4379742383805982530</id><published>2010-01-31T15:10:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T15:15:27.583-06:00</updated><title type='text'>30 reasons we can't help but love michele</title><content type='html'>1. If you ever need the materials to make a scrapbook page of, say, a hamster playing softball in the Olympics with the Jamaican bobsled team, Michele will have them on hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. When you call and tell her you need her help, no matter where she is, she’ll drive fast enough to be on your doorstep within an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Michele is the kind of friend who is loyal from the moment she meets you until the day she dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The girl will tell you if you don’t look good in yellow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. She is such an amazing interior decorator that if the blue in the throw pillows doesn’t exactly match the color on the opposing wall in every light, she and Robert will re-paint the wall in their spare time on a Tuesday evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Michele is the kind of mother who spends hours riding stick horses with her sweet son, and prays fiercely for him to become the man God intends for him to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. She is such a disciplined dieter that she would eat nothing but Caesar salad and granola bars all week if it meant her weekend reward could include a chicken fried steak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Michele is the best shopping buddy ever. She finds sales where no matter what you buy, it’s supposed to be half off at the register.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Her marriage to Robert is a true picture of how two best friends can stay madly in love by continuing to make each other a top priority in their busy lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Though she has her reservations about making a good “preacher’s wife,” all who meet her know that her heart for people and ability to listen without judgment make her a perfect fit for the job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. You can live with the girl for years and still genuinely enjoy every minute you get to spend laughing, chatting, and reminiscing with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Michele was tough enough to teach teenagers with rough backgrounds for many years, and she never stopped working tirelessly to find new ways to inspire and connect with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. The girl really “brings the heat” when pitching a softball, and manages to look cute while doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. If you check her pre-set radio stations, you are likely to hear Rascal Flats on one, Sandi Patti on the next, and an up-and-coming rapper on another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. She says that she doesn’t cook, but she makes delicious dips and addictive chex mix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 16. She’d run a wiener dog rescue if she could, and her beautiful home would be over-run with little old dogs with wheels on their hind legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Sweet Michele hates asking for favors so badly that her voice rises an entire octave when she states her request.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. She’s an amazing combination of protective big sister as well as understanding encourager to her brother and sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. If I ever have another wedding, and decide it should be outdoors-- in January-- in  Minnesota, I know that my Shelly will be thoughtful enough to make me a planning notebook, throw on warm socks and a bridesmaid’s dress, and stand by my side with tears of joy spilling out of her pretty brown eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Michele lovingly named her first car “Poo-Poo Brown,” and then made up for her lost youth by getting a sweet mustang about a year before motherhood struck and the family car was needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. If you ever have a hankering for a marathon of movies featuring either Tim McGraw or Martin Lawerence, Michele’s got the hook-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Michele has such a giving spirit that if you marry her 3rd cousin, you can expect a thoughtful birthday present in the mail each year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Canton is no match for those shopping and decorating skills we mentioned earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Her dedication to Cade was evident when she started pondering whether he should go to college first or take a job as a pro-athlete before the sweet boy was even born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. She may not know her own strength, but she is a true rock when it comes to following the plans God has for her life and her family, no matter what the cost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. The girl always rises to a challenge, whether it be managing a church softball team or playing a beautiful ballad on a flute for a packed house at UMHB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. She’ll cry with you when you’re sad and laugh when you tickle her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Michele does a great leprechaun impression, in fact, that's the only impression she can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. She keeps herself feeling young by using phrases like, “fo shizzle my nizzle,” with her students.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. Michele will not only laugh at herself while reading this, but she’ll still be our friend tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy Birthday, Shelly bell! We love you!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(written by Mandy and Jill)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-4379742383805982530?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/4379742383805982530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=4379742383805982530' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4379742383805982530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4379742383805982530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2010/01/30-reasons-we-cant-help-but-love.html' title='30 reasons we can&apos;t help but love michele'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-2444167563812884191</id><published>2009-09-27T20:57:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T21:47:43.289-05:00</updated><title type='text'>all i need to know</title><content type='html'>as i come to the end of a day filled with a roller coaster of emotions, complete with waves of overwhelming exhaustion, i am so thankful to be grounded in the truth of the god i serve and his unchanging character. it is my belief that when we experience gut-wrenching, knock-you-off-your-feet tragedy in our lives, most humans do one of two things. we either doubt the god we thought we knew and run in the opposite direction, or we embrace him. well, maybe it's more accurate to say we cling to him out of the desperation of knowing that there is nothing and nobody else that can get us through this. knowing that he is our only means of survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;does this mean that the people who do the latter never doubt him for a second? do they never wonder why a loving god would allow such searingly painful circumstances to befall his followers? do they never question how being faithful to this god landed them in relationships where other people could be so unfaithful to their promises?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't answer for anyone else, but to the question of whether i have ever felt this way, the answer is a resounding, "OH YEAH." though i love to imagine the idea of being a person who possess super powers, trusting god every second of every day with never a doubt or a question would certainly not be my power. and in all honesty, giving the world the answers to all these questions wouldn't be my power either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all i can tell you is what i know; and i know that my god is real and he is good. i see the evidence when i take the time to stare at the stars as they twinkle, see the artistry ingrained in every sunset, and look at the toothy grins of the beautiful children he gave me. i hear him speak to my heart through time spent reading scripture- for the first time or the hundredth, and through other christians who love me as they come to my side to encourage and pray over me. i have watched eagerly as time after time he has answered my prayers in the most creative and obvious ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and he knows i still have questions, and he knows i still have moments of doubt. yet he continues to love me lavishly, pursue me passionately, and fight for me faithfully. in the face of this truth, my pain and my anguish seem all but washed away by the wake of his glory. so for now i put away the questions, the requests, and the anxiety; and i rest in knowing that the answers don't really matter. if the god who created me and the jesus who died a wretched death to save my soul mean anything to me, how can they not mean everything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the train of his robe fills the temple, and he is bigger than this current crisis. he's big enough to handle whatever we throw at him, so throw whatever you've got. please-- i beg you-- don't let the cloudiness of your reality get in the way of the clarity of his divinity. he's waiting. he loves you. he's got eternal life and abundant life, and he's offering both. "abundance" isn't the part where the roller coaster gets to the top of the tallest hill. it's where you have the freedom to ride through all it's ups and downs with your hands held high in the air, knowing you are safe and secure in the arms of your savior.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-2444167563812884191?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/2444167563812884191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=2444167563812884191' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/2444167563812884191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/2444167563812884191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/09/all-i-need-to-know.html' title='all i need to know'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-8280787978212640817</id><published>2009-09-09T20:32:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T23:45:00.585-05:00</updated><title type='text'>isn't she lovely?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqhv95LxcgI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Fko97Km7eeQ/s1600-h/jill+b-day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 308px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379672864006959618" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqhv95LxcgI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Fko97Km7eeQ/s320/jill+b-day.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;30 reasons jill is the coolest chick ever&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. she loves jesus fiercely&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. she could live on pop tarts and cereal if anyone would let her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. since high school, i have never seen the girl in public with a single hair out of place&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. she was an amazing teacher who was adored by students, parents and administrators alike&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. scott bryant, careful planner that he is, couldn't resist her pouting any longer and proposed marriage earlier than he had scheduled (and he's still glad he did)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. she prays on her knees for her family and friends on a daily basis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. jill's bedtime ritual could put most OCD sufferers to shame with it's complexity&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. she is strikingly beautiful, yet not the least bit conceited&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. she's been putting up with me in her life since the 7th grade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. her faith has stood firm through many trials, and she uses her experience to minister to others&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. she might panic over a hair on the bathroom floor, but when faced with a true crisis, she's really handy to have around&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. did i mention her hair already?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. she is the most dedicated, patient, understanding mother i know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. she can spend an hour trying to choose a restaurant, then get there and still not like anything on the menu :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. she is so giving that her friends are able to experience christ's love through her attitude&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. our senior year of high school, she was able to easily wear a cheer leading uniform that belonged to our friend tiffany- who happens to be a good 6 inches shorter- and jill rocked it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. she stands up for those she loves and makes them feel good about themselves&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. she always eats with me whatever crazy thing i'm baking at the time, and never puts on a lb.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. she has been married for 7 years, and she is still constantly striving to better herself in her role as a wife&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. for all the high maintenance jokes we make, she is great at laughing at herself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;21. if you ask her what time it is, she's likely to say, "it's 5 to the 30," or some similar statement&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;22. god has blessed her with a beautiful voice, and she uses it to glorify his name&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. her precious daughter hasn't slept well since birth- but instead of complaining about it, jill will say things like, "at least none of us has a terminal illness"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;24. i once told her i had the urge to push her off the balcony of a hotel- just to see her fall- and she's still my bff&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;25. she's encourages by writing sweet cards, praying scripture over people, and giving gifts when people are down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;26. once the girl gets a tan, it lasts for like a year&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;27. she can scrapbook like no body's business-- and she's even frugal about it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;28. she dove head first into my icy river with me, and she's content to ride it out until it gets better&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;29. every boy who ever knew her fell in love with her, but it still broke her heart when she had to let them down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;30. she asks really poignant questions like, "how will we know when the bus comes?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY JILLY BEAN! I LOVE YOU!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-8280787978212640817?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/8280787978212640817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=8280787978212640817' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/8280787978212640817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/8280787978212640817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/09/isnt-she-lovely.html' title='isn&apos;t she lovely?'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqhv95LxcgI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Fko97Km7eeQ/s72-c/jill+b-day.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-4735229394790963438</id><published>2009-09-03T14:00:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T15:08:28.661-05:00</updated><title type='text'>oh, how he loves us</title><content type='html'>it has been a long time since i've posted on my blog. i've been busy. busy drowning in an ice cold river. this river is filled with doubt, anger, fear, and self-pity to name a few. the cold is not the least bit refreshing, but rather paralyzing. it leaves me disoriented, numb, and struggling to catch my breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not sure when i fell in, or how i'll pull myself out. i'm battered and bruised from slamming into one rock after another, each one causing enough pain to break through the numbness and remind of the reality of the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fortunately, i have some life preservers. they come in the form of my friends and family. i have many encouragers standing on the bank of my river, cheering me on and praying for my safety. there are also some who are as close to the rapids as possible, allowing themselves to be cut and bruised, while reaching into the icy cold to try and pull me out. i am sometimes able to grab on to them and get a break from the beating, but the current is too strong for me to remain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;still, there are a select few who do all they can to save me from this, and who would willingly trade places with me if they could. of course, i would never let them, but they will never know how much it has meant to me to have such overwhelming help and hope and love to remind me to keep breathing and fight for the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i awoke this morning at 2:00 am, engulfed in the raging chill of the river and feeling the weight of the water on my chest, i was afraid this would not be a good day. certainly- some days are better than others, but i had a feeling this day would bring no relief. i thought about my life preservers, but even the most dedicated would be sleeping at this hour, and i know that none of them has the ability to actually pull me out of this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i began to pray to the one person who is big enough to calm the water, dry it up, or pluck me out, if he so desires. and something miraculous happened. i began to smell salt in the air, and feel a warm breeze pushing through the oppressive clouds. ever since i was a child, the smell of the salty ocean has been as instantly calming as a valium for my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as i drew nearer to my savior, the raging rapids became the slow, lulling waves of an enormous new body of water. i felt myself begin to relax as the water temperature increased and warmed me from the outside in, and there was no more need to struggle. i was peacefully surrounded by the real, living ocean of god's love. my breath came effortlessly as he held me in his hand, and i was able to glimpse the beauty and glory of the dawn breaking way off in the distance. i could sense that sunrise would be majestic, and i know now that it is coming for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know the "new day" may be a long way off, but for now i will wait here and try to be patient. will there be moments where i once again experience the fear of the icy abyss? without a doubt. but i pray that in the pain of those times, i can remember the calm of my ocean, and the faithfulness of my god. my prayer for you is that even if your day begins in with you drowning in a raging river, it will end with you sinking in the ocean of jesus's unconditional, lavish love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe this song will help us all grasp that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoC1ec-lYps"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoC1ec-lYps&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-4735229394790963438?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoC1ec-lYps' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/4735229394790963438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=4735229394790963438' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4735229394790963438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4735229394790963438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/09/oh-how-he-loves-us.html' title='oh, how he loves us'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-7402052844586120173</id><published>2009-06-03T19:13:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T19:45:25.615-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tiny dancer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SicWcfDgt1I/AAAAAAAAANg/SkQ51W2WdDw/s1600-h/DSC04409.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343264161526757202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SicWcfDgt1I/AAAAAAAAANg/SkQ51W2WdDw/s320/DSC04409.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;well, my sweet lorelei had her very first dance recital last weekend. i have to say that i couldn't have been more excited, but i did set my expectations for her performance fairly low. that's because the child just turned 4, and i have taught classes this age where they know the dance perfectly in class but still just stand there awestruck on such a big stage with the bright lights.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SicWcleOK8I/AAAAAAAAANo/NgWiZbgsx3I/s1600-h/DSC04414.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343264163249400770" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SicWcleOK8I/AAAAAAAAANo/NgWiZbgsx3I/s320/DSC04414.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;the best part about this dance class is that she got to do it all year with her bff's, sohie and lucy. they are both still 3 years old, and they did a great job at the rehearsal and recital. all of our precious girls had great attitudes through the entire weekend, and i couldn't be more proud.we had a small celebration playdate at chuck e. cheese with the girls, the babies, and hudson on the morning of the recital. i made a ballerina cake to pump them up, and i think it was a hit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;at one point in the dress rehearsal meg, who also used to dance, just looked at me as the older girls danced their hearts out on the stage and asked if i was jealous. yes- i was, but i suppose no one wants to see an almost 30 year old mother of two up there shaking her groove thing, so i'll continue to try to be the supportive- but not psychotic- stage mom for now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SicWdKRQEDI/AAAAAAAAANw/FNkMn6zx3po/s1600-h/DSC04424.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343264173127110706" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SicWdKRQEDI/AAAAAAAAANw/FNkMn6zx3po/s320/DSC04424.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;anyway, watching my first born dance and smile at the audience brought tears to my eyes. even if that's the only recital she ever does, i will cherish the pictures and memories forever. can you believe how cute they are?&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343266912550991634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SicY8nazNxI/AAAAAAAAAOA/tj7U67jrQ7U/s320/DSC04422.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-7402052844586120173?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/7402052844586120173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=7402052844586120173' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/7402052844586120173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/7402052844586120173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/06/tiny-dancer.html' title='tiny dancer'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SicWcfDgt1I/AAAAAAAAANg/SkQ51W2WdDw/s72-c/DSC04409.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-583293424744960955</id><published>2009-05-23T21:35:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T22:17:13.171-05:00</updated><title type='text'>goin' to the chapel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;it has been so long since last i posted, that i'm just going to let the pictures update you on the happenings of our last month or two. here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi0ERiOLyI/AAAAAAAAAMA/7MST7tN8Dok/s1600-h/DSC04220.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339215343767138082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi0ERiOLyI/AAAAAAAAAMA/7MST7tN8Dok/s320/DSC04220.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; my boy is still a monkey...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339215352772870386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi0EzFWwPI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/uqnZ-jJYYHA/s320/DSC04293.JPG" border="0" /&gt;who got his first haircut... given by his daddy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339219776478779698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi4GSrCGTI/AAAAAAAAAMo/cYSrBfM0FYk/s320/DSC04296.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;on our kitchen table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339215361651728402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi0FUKPYBI/AAAAAAAAAMg/jFuKOOyyEIM/s320/DSC04321.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;our easter (which was also my birthday) was great...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339215350149829410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi0EpT-UyI/AAAAAAAAAMI/ut5ChlOnKj0/s320/DSC04227.JPG" border="0" /&gt;complete with the bunny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339215358187241346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi0FHQPf4I/AAAAAAAAAMY/W2gOZWlyi68/s320/DSC04236.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;we met my precious nephew, wallace... &lt;/div&gt;and found out that uncle michael and aunt brook will give us another niece or nephew in nov!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339219789887222754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi4HEn2s-I/AAAAAAAAANA/3ww3UqXeeqc/s320/DSC04355.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;my girl is still a princess...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339219786920044674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi4G5kbKII/AAAAAAAAAM4/9D8i-9dc7zU/s320/DSC04346.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;who loves bluebonnets...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339219783770457858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi4Gt1gRwI/AAAAAAAAAMw/AUYnPPa83bs/s320/DSC04341.JPG" border="0" /&gt; and her brother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339221824561746226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi59gYEETI/AAAAAAAAANQ/FbfQhdQgKOQ/s320/DSC02856.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;my sister is anxiously awaiting the day she holds her first child...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339221822133548114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi59XVItFI/AAAAAAAAANI/R9VeIJ8oMew/s320/Copy+of+DSC02241.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;which should be sometime in june... and i can't wait!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;what else was i going to tell you about june?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;oh yeah...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;my mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;is getting&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;married!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;pics of the diamonds and the man soon to come. we couldn't be more excited!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-583293424744960955?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/583293424744960955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=583293424744960955' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/583293424744960955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/583293424744960955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/05/goin-to-chapel.html' title='goin&apos; to the chapel'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Shi0ERiOLyI/AAAAAAAAAMA/7MST7tN8Dok/s72-c/DSC04220.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-994408577483254010</id><published>2009-03-30T12:36:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T21:52:29.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>how great is our god</title><content type='html'>i have to begin today by telling you about a challenge i made to myself a couple of weeks ago. at a sunday school lesson on the subject of prayer, i was disheartened to realize that my prayer life was far from being the way i desired. i made a commitment to try to stay more focused on god's presence throughout the day and have an ongoing conversation with him like i used to do. this may sound strange to some of you, but it is simply about taking the time to pray for my needs and the needs of others as i go about my day. and- most importantly- tuning out the other noise in my life to make me more in tune to what god is trying to tell me. the lord has been amazing to me in all the days that i have focused on our communication, but today i had to share some specifics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so this is not the best day in our household. today i should be working, and the kids should be at school playing and learning. instead- my sweet everett woke up with the stomach bug that lorelei had late last week. poor thing, at almost 16 months old, he was impossible to console this morning as i first tried a bath to wash all the nasty off of him. he fought me tooth and nail, and it was physically impossible to get him to sit down in the tub. he kept grabbing me around the neck, trying to climb out of the tub and into my arms. he didn't understand that i was right there with him, but it was necessary for me to clean him up before i could snuggle him as close as he wanted me to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;god spoke to my heart:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;why do you fight and scream and try to scratch your way out of the cleansing flood i sometimes bring? can't you see that in those moments, the filth of your sin is coming between the two of us? don't let anyone convince you that you are drowning- i will not let you. just allow me to clean you up so that i can fully embrace you and wrap you up in my arms.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i pulled him out of the bath tub as quickly as i could, but some of his stench still lingered. i held him close, kissed his head, and loved him anyway. that's just what a mother does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the lord said:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;even when you are caught up in the guilt and the shame of the way you've been living... even when you're just sure that all those around you can still smell the odor of your indifference, disobedience, or unworthiness, i hold you close and love you anyway. you are mine. that's just what your father does.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next battle of the morning was that he was hungry. starving by his standards i'm sure, and genuinely confused as to why there was no breakfast on the table like most mornings. i tried to explain, "baby, your tummy is sick. putting food in there right now would only make it worse." he- of course- didn't even hear my words because he was too busy begging and screaming, and pointing to the highchair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;i heard his sweet voice say:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;my child, so many times you have asked me for something, maybe even expected it, but i couldn't let you have it. those things you were begging for would not have saved you or brought real comfort or satisfaction. only i can do that. they would have made the situation worse, but you couldn't see that. in my time, you may still have the things you've been pleading for and waiting for, but for now you must trust that i know my reasons, and you could not even understand them. be patient. i'll never let you starve.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just held everett through the rest of the morning, and i let him cry in my arms when he needed to. i hate that my sweet boy is sick, but i relish every moment i have to hold him close and comfort him. finally, he decided he was too hungry to wait any longer, and he again began to cry and beg for food. i felt it might be a good time to test the waters because he hadn't been sick in awhile. so- i set him down- which he hated, and ran to get the saltines. he literally stopped in his tracks, wiped tears off his face, and smiled when he saw them coming. the first cracker made his day. a few minutes later, i gave him another, but this time his response was different. he took this wonderful, square piece of yummy goodness, and he began to run to me. i thought he wanted to sit in my lap while he enjoyed it, but he did something that really surprised me. the precious baby held out his cracker and offered it to me. when i took it in my hand, he didn't fuss, he took the last two steps to my arms, embraced me with his, and laid the biggest kiss on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;i prayed:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;father, god- make me more like everett as i pursue a deeper relationship with you. help me to be grateful for every blessing you give me, while offering it back to you as a sign that nothing brings me more joy than our fellowship together.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what a sweet sick day i had with my son and my heavenly father.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-994408577483254010?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/994408577483254010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=994408577483254010' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/994408577483254010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/994408577483254010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-have-to-begin-today-by-telling-you.html' title='how great is our god'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-4950361100972535527</id><published>2009-03-17T19:33:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T19:09:05.257-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hey hey! we're the monkeys.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314651990398261842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/ScFv07iC2lI/AAAAAAAAALw/W-AW8Pghruc/s200/DSC03735.JPG" border="0" /&gt; very early in everett's life, we began to call him "monkey." i have always loved monkeys and longed to have one for a pet- except that whole thing about them throwing their poo deterred me. anyway, i believe that rett got this nickname because he was so chunky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i guess this nickname has become a self-fulfilling prophesy, because lately i cannot think of a better way to describe my chunky, adorable, mischievous boy. it is physically impossible to keep up with him through every minute of the day, so i thought i'd share some of his shenanigans. every one of these things happened during his waking hours today- between 10:00 am and 8:00 pm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#1: within 5 minutes of pulling him out of his crib this morning, i noticed a red spot on his head. after further investigation, i realized that right under his hairline on his forehead he had a mark that looked like a rug burn. he likes to kick his legs and bang his little head on his crib mattress largely due to the drum like sound it makes, so my only guess here is that he was doing this when he woke up this morning and somehow managed to rub that spot almost raw.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#2: the moment we walked into the kitchen to get his breakfast ready, i let go of his hand and turned to get his milk out of the fridge. by the time i grabbed it and turned back around, the boy had crawled up on to my small kitchen step stool, grabbed onto the sink, and pulled himself up to a standing position. by the time i could lunge and grab him, he had lifted up one leg in an attempt to scale the cabinet and climb into the sink.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#3: about an hour later, lorelei and i sat on the couch in the living room to put her shoes on. everett james entered the room with us, and by the time i got sister's foot into just one of her shoes, he had opened the door on our coffee table, pulled out an old set of head phones, tried to put them on his head while already dancing to the "music" and began to scream and cry. he had his back to me, so i leaned over and grabbed him to give hugs. when i did, i saw that he had somehow managed to pinch his eyelid- i guess in the adjustable band on the headphones, and it had left a red, almost bleeding mark.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#4: from this incident, we headed to lorelei's preschool registration. it was quick and easy. we were in the building maybe 8 minutes. i knew it was close to rett's nap time, so i brought him his cup of milk and a small bag of cheerios. he has eaten out of a small ziplock sack many times before with no problems, mind you. i was filling out the form for lulu, and i looked down at him in the stroller just in time to see him dump the last of the cheerios out of the bag and onto the carpet in the church foyer. there was a large circle of snacks surrounding him on the floor, and he looked up at me with a grin and the expression of true accomplishment as if to say, "look mommy! i got every last cheerio into my floor art!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#5: sophie came over to play this afternoon, and rett was napping most of the time. at the end of her visit, meg came to pick her up, and the 3 kids were playing in the family room. suddenly i hear meg say, "everett james! mandy- does he do this all the time?" i look and see that he has launched his chubby little leg up and over the side of our tall basket full on blankets that we have always used to block him from the buttons on the tv. this is not the first time he has hurled his body into the basket, but this time he got up to his knees in front of the tv and pushed the power button. "no, everett," i said firmly, and he proceeded to look at me and do it several more times despite my warnings. i finally grabbed him to take him to his crib for his 1 minute time out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314337584233857490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/ScBR4FTEQdI/AAAAAAAAALg/b9KeWIj7SH8/s200/DSC04105.JPG" border="0" /&gt; #6: he was awfully quiet during the time out, and when i went to get him i found the reason. he had been up on his tippy toes on the bumper pad, and he was able to grab the first letter of his name hanging high above the crib and drop it down into the 1 inch space between the crib and the wall. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#7: he was a great eater at supper. so was sis. hallelujah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;#8: tonight, after about 3 repeat episodes of the climbing into the basket and up on the kitchen stool, i needed to do some dishes. i let him play in the kitchen with me, and he found all kinds of "treasures" that had fallen between the refrigerator and the cabinet. he brought most to me, but took a couple to the trash can and disposed of them himself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#9: the worst news is that i realized that the boy can just about climb onto the ottoman that we use to keep him blocked in the family room with all his toys where he's the safest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#10: i didn't mention the squirming, hollering, rolling, and running away he does each time he needs a change of clothes or diaper, but there was plenty of that. i have actually started to pray before we go out in public that my baby will not have a poopey diaper because it is almost impossible to change him anywhere other than home. this wiggle fest, however, came before bed when i realized he needed a good nail clipping. i had him sitting on the counter beside the kitchen sink while i (obviously) held on to him tightly. during the experience of trying to trim toe and finger nails, i found myself actually breaking a sweat because it was so crazy. he wasn't crying or sad in any way. he just decided he needed to grab everything in sight, and when i moved those things, he continued to slide his sweet bobo into the sink over and over again without me being able to stop him. i seriously stopped 3 nails short of finished, kissed his precious mouth, and put him to bed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;maybe after a good night's sleep, i will have the energy to tame my monkey man tomorrow. the biggest problem in the situation is how completely smitten i am with him. i suppose it might have something to do with the fact that every time he flashes me that silly grin, i feel as if i'm looking at a baby version of the adorable man i married. i'm going to have to stop melting at the sight of the kid and become a better disciplinarian before we end up making a trip to the ER.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314651997052333458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 132px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/ScFv1UUf7ZI/AAAAAAAAAL4/Mdfvfx8bUdA/s200/rettnaked.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-4950361100972535527?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/4950361100972535527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=4950361100972535527' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4950361100972535527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4950361100972535527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/03/hey-hey-were-monkeys.html' title='hey hey! we&apos;re the monkeys.'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/ScFv07iC2lI/AAAAAAAAALw/W-AW8Pghruc/s72-c/DSC03735.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-8617317437185123957</id><published>2009-02-21T23:21:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T22:03:49.812-05:00</updated><title type='text'>... and party every day</title><content type='html'>we had lorelei's 4th birthday party today at chuck e. cheese. i'm sorry- did you say 4? how can this sweet tiny little curly headed person be 4 years old, i bet you wonder. i do too, not to mention the way i feel about being the mother of a 4 year old, but that's a whole different post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306585619780306930" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SaTHgXUzh_I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Rk5U9UecY2U/s200/chucke.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306589929596818994" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SaTLbOpIljI/AAAAAAAAALA/_RbexDtvFkY/s200/DSC04132.JPG" /&gt;my sweet little shortie wanted a strawberry shortcake theme, so we made the invitations and sent them to her dearest friends. almost everyone was able to come, so it was a great party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;my mom made her the cutest strawberry shortcake skirt and top to match, and mimi found the adorable hat online. we have a fantastic time celebrating our girl with friends and family!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306585617936686082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SaTHgQdQHAI/AAAAAAAAAKY/zBMBnMvisIc/s200/lucy.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(opening gifts with lucy and sophie)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;if you are looking for an easy place to party- i have to suggest chuck e cheese. we arrived 10 minutes before, sat the cake and the favors on a table, and walked out the minute it was over with all the other guests and left the mess behind. now that's my kind of party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306585615690139426" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SaTHgIFohyI/AAAAAAAAAKI/d-Ct6Y1s3xM/s200/parker2.JPG" /&gt;(all smiles with parker)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;the most difficult thing i did in planning the party was to make her cake. i've been working on my cake decorating skills a bit lately, but this was my first public attempt. it's not perfect by any means, but i have to say that i didn't allow myself to obsess or be a perfectionist. it's a lot more fun that way. there are actually 2 cakes, one stacked on top of the other, and it's a good thing the pink one was the bottom layer because after i finished icing it i saw lorelei admiring it as it sat on the kitchen table well within her reach. next thing i know, i look over and she has made 3 little finger holes on the top of the cake. oh- and she also grabbed one of the piggy bank party favors and stuck it smack dab in the middle of the cake- which of course made a large dent. i walked over, picked up the piggy bank and gave her a look that must have had more an impact than i inteded because she immediately burst into tears. i told her it was fine because the other cake would sit right there and cover it up- and the day was saved. so here's how it turned out:&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306582602034488242" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SaTEwtWIo7I/AAAAAAAAAKA/c755rMwoqIM/s200/cake.JPG" /&gt; we did greatly miss all of lulu's aunts and uncles, but the grandparents came out in full force. after the party, we had them all over to our house for a more low key celebration. i know i say it all the time, but these people are the best at loving us and our kids and being there any time we call on them!&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306585622509519378" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SaTHghfgAhI/AAAAAAAAAKg/9sxnUPfcmrM/s200/mimi.JPG" /&gt;(with mimi and grandaddy)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306589920524380050" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SaTLas2GJ5I/AAAAAAAAAKw/jpZcmOQUPRw/s200/papa.JPG" /&gt;(with papa and grammy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306589921964198818" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SaTLayNYC6I/AAAAAAAAAK4/f90v1e4_B1k/s200/nana.JPG" /&gt;(with nana and g.g.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-8617317437185123957?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/8617317437185123957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=8617317437185123957' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/8617317437185123957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/8617317437185123957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/02/and-party-every-day.html' title='... and party every day'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SaTHgXUzh_I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Rk5U9UecY2U/s72-c/chucke.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-5854997558798438351</id><published>2009-01-13T18:39:00.013-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T11:39:41.304-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My girl</title><content type='html'>so i spent an hour writing a post about our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;christmas&lt;/span&gt; a few days ago, and somehow it got deleted. maybe &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;i'll&lt;/span&gt; get back to that someday. for today, however, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; feeling convicted about the fact that i have an adorable daughter who says &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;hilarious&lt;/span&gt; things, and i never write them down. i figure if i blog about a few of my faves, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;i'll&lt;/span&gt; at least be able to remember them forever. i hope it doesn't bore you. i will start with the earliest i remember and attempt to stay in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;chronological&lt;/span&gt; order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;age: under 1 year&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291567195860820002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW9sVCZk4CI/AAAAAAAAAJI/ubdjarCRYtg/s200/babylu.jpg" border="0" /&gt;-her first word was "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;dada&lt;/span&gt;." that was followed closely by "tot." it was her way of talking about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;scott&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;bryant&lt;/span&gt;, a friend of ours who is like an uncle to her. their sweet friendship later led to moments like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291567194496141490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW9sU9UNiLI/AAAAAAAAAJA/A2Mt3qcTc8M/s200/dressup.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;age: around 18 months&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-one day we were laying in my bed as i desperately struggled to hold my little wiggle worm still in the hopes that she would fall asleep for a nap (which never worked.) suddenly, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;lorelei&lt;/span&gt; used all her strength to try to dive out of my arms and shouted out "pees &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;desus&lt;/span&gt;!" (please &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;jesus&lt;/span&gt;) as if beckoning the lord to save her from her mean old mother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290971389514621666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW1OcizGIuI/AAAAAAAAAIo/75WprO2YJ3Y/s200/Copy+of+DSC01813.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;age: between 1-2 years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;she would try so hard to say "i love you," but it always came out "i goo goo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290963121752725570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW1G7S_DWEI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/QUUfKHXPe0A/s200/DSC01823.JPG" border="0" /&gt; age: 28 months&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-i was pregnant and tired, and she was going through a defiant streak. i sat her in the time out chair for disobeying and she kept talking to me. i told her there was no talking in time out, hoping to make it a real punishment for her, but she thought she could outsmart me. as i washed dishes in the kitchen, i heard her singing (not talking, mind you) "time out---is--- a good place" in a sort of old school rock and roll voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291567194509929602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW9sU9Xf7II/AAAAAAAAAI4/Z9G_iijpQZY/s200/summer+%2707+232.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;age: 2 1/2 years&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;halloween&lt;/span&gt; day 2007, i explained to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;lorelei&lt;/span&gt; that we would go trick-or-treat then head back to our house to have pizza with our friends. her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;response&lt;/span&gt; to this was, "and then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;parker&lt;/span&gt; will marry me in my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;minnie&lt;/span&gt; mouse skirt." "why do you think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;parker&lt;/span&gt; wants to marry you?" i prodded. "because he's my friend and he 'finks' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;bootiful&lt;/span&gt;.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290953529049693666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW0-M7YbPeI/AAAAAAAAAII/E1QejXretcQ/s200/DSC02544.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;age: nearing 3 years&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-soon before &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;everett&lt;/span&gt; was born, people started asking her if she was excited to be getting a baby brother. she would always reply, "yes... but he won't talk or play for a long time. just lay there and be a baby. but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;i'll&lt;/span&gt; share my snacks '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;wif&lt;/span&gt;' him."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291572636796876354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW9xRvd0dkI/AAAAAAAAAJg/127b0ENDZcA/s200/oct.+%2707+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;age: 3 years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-my sweet girl was melting down one day in what i only imagined would be more of a teenage girl drama, and i told her that when she stopped crying we could go play together. she replied through her sobs, "i don't want to play or do '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;anysang&lt;/span&gt;.' i don't '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;yike&lt;/span&gt;' '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;anysang&lt;/span&gt;.' not even light pink. i just want to '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;yay&lt;/span&gt;' here and cry." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290963129300805954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW1G7vGp6UI/AAAAAAAAAIY/7Xcq5mQh2No/s200/914289251705_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;age:3 years &lt;div&gt;-i walked in to the family room one morning while she and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;everett&lt;/span&gt; were laying on the floor watching cartoons. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;lorelei&lt;/span&gt; shouted, "mom! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;everett&lt;/span&gt; got a tooth!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;when i asked how she knew she responded, "i felt it when he was chewing on my toes. i let him do that 'cause he really 'yikes' to do that."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291572640286726210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW9xR8d3WEI/AAAAAAAAAJo/Xs2RCHpoMgo/s200/340518855307_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;age: 3 years&lt;/div&gt;-again one day she talked about marrying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;parker&lt;/span&gt; and stated that they would live in a pink house. i told her i wasn't sure if &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;parker&lt;/span&gt; would want to live in a pink house, and she replied in a very serious tone, "mom-- &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;parker&lt;/span&gt; just wants me to be happy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291567210963334354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW9sV6qS9NI/AAAAAAAAAJY/YHz2mArA-aA/s200/luparker.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;age: closing in on 4 years (3 weeks ago)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-the day aunt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;steph&lt;/span&gt; and uncle &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;ryan&lt;/span&gt; told her that she was going to have a cousin, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;lorelei&lt;/span&gt; was sitting in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;steph's&lt;/span&gt; lap. they talked about her having a baby in her belly, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;lu&lt;/span&gt; jumped up and said "right there? where &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;i've&lt;/span&gt; been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;sittin'&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290953495883040114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW0-K_04RXI/AAAAAAAAAHo/m7945QR-UVE/s200/DSC03970.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;last week&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;she was in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;mimi's&lt;/span&gt; bathroom with her and the following conversation transpired:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;L:"Mimi, how did you get those decorations way up there on that shelf?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;M: "Well, I climbed up on a ladder."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;L: "Oh- that's not safe even for grown-ups. Only God and Jesus should climb up ladders."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291572649469629474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW9xSerPVCI/AAAAAAAAAJw/BZxwgeu4SX4/s200/DSC03585.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-5854997558798438351?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/5854997558798438351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=5854997558798438351' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/5854997558798438351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/5854997558798438351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-girl.html' title='My girl'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SW9sVCZk4CI/AAAAAAAAAJI/ubdjarCRYtg/s72-c/babylu.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-3643632254882159951</id><published>2009-01-03T19:19:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T10:29:27.149-06:00</updated><title type='text'>10 things...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SWA-BTilRHI/AAAAAAAAAHg/ZnLUki1emrI/s1600-h/honest_award.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287294154679075954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SWA-BTilRHI/AAAAAAAAAHg/ZnLUki1emrI/s200/honest_award.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"When you receive the prize, you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link them back. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in their content or design. Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing that they were prized with 'Honest Weblog'. List [if you can and/or dare] at least ten honest things about yourself. Then, pass it on!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been given this award twice- a long time ago, by &lt;a href="http://the3bryants@blogspot.com"&gt;jill&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://rkhiggins.blogspot.com/"&gt;kylie&lt;/a&gt;, two of my most precious friends. jill has stuck with me through thick and thin (the pun is intentional when it comes to my weight) since 7th grade when we were forced by the school to share a locker with each other. kylie is a friend who i have become close to in the last couple of years as we share our adventures in parenting together, and it makes me really sad that i didn't make the effort to know her better way back at midway high.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ok- let the honesty begin...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. cleaning house is the bane of my existence. it seems that no matter how hard i try, one day it's clean and the next it's a pit. it's not that i don't enjoy having a clean bathtub. it's the fact that i have to spend a good part of my day on my hands and knees with a sponge surrounded by chemical fumes strong enough to burn the hair out if my nose that i have a hard time with. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. i have an addictive personality. this is the reason above all moral or health standards why i stay far away from alchohol, cigarettes, coffee products and soft drinks. try to get between me and my chocolate, sugar, or tv, though, and you'll see what i mean by "addicted."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. i'm a procrastinator. and i have ADD. this can be a near fatal combination. if not for my addiction to chocolate i could feasibly starve. i might seriously put off eating all morning in favor of doing other things i'm already behind on, then finally get to the kitchen and still forget to eat because i got distracted by the magnets that are so out of place on the fridge. before you know it i'd be on my way to target to get some sort of refridgerator organization tool and run out of gas because i waited until the tank was almost empty and then still passed up the gasoline in favor of the candy bar i saw inside the station. ok- so i would never starve. but madness can insue at any minute in my life. be careful not to get too close!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. i literally just heard myself say to my daughter, "hey- we never sit on our brother's head whether he likes it or not."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. i often reveal too much about myself to people i hardly know. my friend describes my disorder as "compulsive honesty," but i think it's more of a desire to hear people tell me that they have done that or felt that way too. it makes me feel more normal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. i'm not shy, but when faced with meeting lots of new people or an uncomfortable situation, i tend to talk way too much. i can sometimes hear myself and in my mind i'm thinking "just shut-up already." but i almost never do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. i was witness to a christmas miracle. for over 2 years, my dear friend meg had been trying to get pregnant and struggling with all the problems that infertility can bring. though she and shane did an amazing job of keeping the faith, i knew that her sweet heart just couldn't take much more disappointment. we found out she was pregnant on december 8, then on christmas eve that she's having twins! woo-hoo! notice i say "we" as if i had any part at all in the process except praying and crying each time the news was stinky. praise god for this gift to the watwood clan!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. i am procrastinating right now and need to go do dishes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. i spent the first 27 years of my life trying to find ways to straighten out my frizzy, curly hair to look sleek and shiny like a pantene add. i am now either being extremely lazy or just learning to embrace the curls, and i attribute this to my overwhelming love for my sweet curly lu of a daughter. i wouldn't change her curls for a million dollars!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. i sometimes say things wrong. in a way that seems quite dirty. when it's the furthest thing from my mind. these statements have been coined as "mandyisms" and i'm thankful that they seem to be getting fewer and far between now that i watch every syllable so closely having a 3 year old "parrot" at home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;once again- i have waited so long to answer this challenge that there is nobody left for me to tag. i need to get more friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-3643632254882159951?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/3643632254882159951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=3643632254882159951' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/3643632254882159951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/3643632254882159951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2009/01/10-things.html' title='10 things...'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SWA-BTilRHI/AAAAAAAAAHg/ZnLUki1emrI/s72-c/honest_award.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-1059499828120437635</id><published>2008-12-05T13:45:00.012-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T16:33:07.291-06:00</updated><title type='text'>525,600 minutes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmp1ezoZcI/AAAAAAAAAHY/8b1br9p3S1Q/s1600-h/birthday+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276435174709028290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmp1ezoZcI/AAAAAAAAAHY/8b1br9p3S1Q/s200/birthday+006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i've been trying to write this post all week now, and every time i sit down i get too emotional. my baby boy celebrated his first birthday on monday. notice i didn't say that i celebrated. of course we had a party, but i feel more like i'm in mourning than anything else. where has the time gone? how is it that an entire year has gone by and i feel like it's been a matter of days?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;it's odd how it can feel like he's been a part of our family forever, yet it also seems that just yesterday he was still growing inside of me. last christmas he was less than 4 weeks old. up all night and sleeping all day, and completely unaware of what was happening around him. this year is a real person- complete with talking, giggling, excitement over christmas decorations and almost walking on his own. i know by christmas morning he'll be waddling around independently getting into even more than he does now. of course i love watching him grow and learn and change, but i can't help but be sad that i'm losing my baby. i think the best way to cheer myself up and celebrate his first year is to post a few favorite pics and memories.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276420495849634578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 161px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmcfDy1OxI/AAAAAAAAAGI/iCsH_Nt9jcA/s320/DSC02685.JPG" border="0" /&gt;#1: the day he was born- god had blessed us beyond measure with another healthy, beautiful baby. i remember thinking it was appropriate that he came in december because he looked like a little elf baby. he had one pointy ear and was red as a christmas ball.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276418153190718514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 144px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmaWsta_DI/AAAAAAAAAFw/vIPNahGIsgo/s320/lu%26rett.jpg" border="0" /&gt; #2: his relationship with lorelei- truly, we could not be more blessed by the way she adores her brother. not one moment of jealousy- she has been nothing but protective and loving to him from the very beginning, and he is crazy about her too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276420517747646002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmcgVXuXjI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Ix79LgDqmHc/s320/DSC03360.JPG" border="0" /&gt;#3: grins and giggles. his sweet laugh is so manly and contagious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276420527890519618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 159px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmcg7J-VkI/AAAAAAAAAGg/EEmLldmMTxM/s320/DSC03404.JPG" border="0" /&gt;#4: best friends. here he is with cade (born in june) and hollyn (april)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276422669842683570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 219px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmedmjKlrI/AAAAAAAAAGw/ZIjZZZjIfMw/s320/DSC03465.JPG" border="0" /&gt;#5: bath time- this was such fun before he started trying to stand up and climb out. notice the matching faux-hawks. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276427828554817202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 147px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmjJ4P-3rI/AAAAAAAAAG4/PmHAWwhpI-w/s200/grandaddy.JPG" border="0" /&gt;#6: time with grandparents- here are the kids with grandaddy, who moved to hewitt with mimi in may. we now have all 3 amazing sets of grands in town, and we love them dearly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276422663464986002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 221px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 161px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmedOympZI/AAAAAAAAAGo/VHLom3Kh5cw/s320/DSC03417.JPG" border="0" /&gt; #7: this face- kissing that sweet mouth is worth it- no matter how much drool i encounter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276435139762257234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmpzcnq_VI/AAAAAAAAAHA/RzpgXHErKXI/s200/birthday+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#8: teeth- getting them is no fun, but they sure do make a sweet smile!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276435157558875298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmp0e6t1KI/AAAAAAAAAHI/53bvEwJ-vME/s200/birthday+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#9: family dedication- both kids were great on stage, and it's great to know people are praying for us as we teach our children about jesus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276418158083295730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 206px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmaW-75yfI/AAAAAAAAAF4/Cr_AFqPl8ys/s320/rettbanana.jpg" border="0" /&gt;#10: chunky monkey- i cherish every roll and crease on my precious boy, and this was even the theme for his birthday party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276435163189010898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmp0z5C4dI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/6JZ159pwNm8/s200/birthday+008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;                                                              happy birthday, baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-1059499828120437635?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/1059499828120437635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=1059499828120437635' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/1059499828120437635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/1059499828120437635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/12/525600-minutes.html' title='525,600 minutes'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/STmp1ezoZcI/AAAAAAAAAHY/8b1br9p3S1Q/s72-c/birthday+006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-3403547689015529679</id><published>2008-11-26T21:59:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T22:00:26.032-06:00</updated><title type='text'>a few of my favorite things</title><content type='html'>okay- i've been tagged at least twice now, and i need to get to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8 TV shows I love to watch:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. house&lt;br /&gt;2. one tree hill&lt;br /&gt;3. how i met your mother&lt;br /&gt;4. gray's anatomy&lt;br /&gt;5. smallville&lt;br /&gt;6. private practice&lt;br /&gt;7. the office&lt;br /&gt;8. friends- always!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8 favorite restaurants:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. cheesecake factory&lt;br /&gt;2. carino's&lt;br /&gt;3. cheddars&lt;br /&gt;4. schmaltz&lt;br /&gt;5. on the border&lt;br /&gt;6. chili's&lt;br /&gt;7. logan's&lt;br /&gt;8. little mexico (in temple)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8 things that happened today:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. did some housework (don't ask me what- i've already forgotten)&lt;br /&gt;2. went to the grocery store in the crazy thanksgiving rush&lt;br /&gt;3. had lunch at my mom's&lt;br /&gt;4. took everett to see mimi&lt;br /&gt;5. took lorelei to see high school musical 3- and it was fabulous!&lt;br /&gt;6. decorated cookies to look like turkeys&lt;br /&gt;7. hung out with my in-laws and had lots of fun&lt;br /&gt;8. shopped for a new free phone online&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8 Things I am Looking Forward to:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. everett's first birthday party&lt;br /&gt;2. the wedding of my cousin wendy and her fiance' dave&lt;br /&gt;3. returning to teaching middle or high school someday&lt;br /&gt;4. christmas shopping, songs, eggnog and decorations&lt;br /&gt;5. the birth of my nephew wallace in march&lt;br /&gt;6. healthy babies for my sister and preggo friends&lt;br /&gt;7. the days when each of my kids accept christ&lt;br /&gt;8. the day i get to fall alseep at night without 2 baby monitors in my room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8 Things on My Wishlist:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. lorelei completely getting past her sleep issues for good&lt;br /&gt;2. a weekend away with jeremy&lt;br /&gt;3. baby watwood #2&lt;br /&gt;4. more time with my girlfriends&lt;br /&gt;5. to take a cake decorating class&lt;br /&gt;6. to slow time and be able to enjoy every minute of my kids' "babyhood"&lt;br /&gt;7. a new fm transmitter for my ipod&lt;br /&gt;8. new clothes that fit and don't have formula stains&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***i have no one to tag b/c they have all been tagged already.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-3403547689015529679?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/3403547689015529679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=3403547689015529679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/3403547689015529679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/3403547689015529679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/11/few-of-my-favorite-things.html' title='a few of my favorite things'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-4999953076695489436</id><published>2008-11-18T10:58:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T11:52:43.794-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm so excited!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;finally, after almost 4 years of being a mother, i'm going to be an aunt! twice! my brother and sister-in-law robert and leslie are getting ready to welcome a sweet baby boy in early march, and i can't wait. then, in june, my sister and brother-in-law stephanie and ryan will be having their first child as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270055528540110018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SSL_lM03fMI/AAAAAAAAAEw/IGl_fg9L-5k/s320/DSC02003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;                                                                     leslie and robert&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;i'm just about to pop with excitement, and i'm saying multiple prayers a day for healthy pregnancies and babies. i have to say that i have selfishly decided that i might like it if steph and ryan have a girl so that lorelei won't be the only one in the family. i feel that i can safely announce my desire because the day my sister found out i was pregnant the first time she put in her request for a niece. she said she wouldn't know what to do with a boy. so- i suppose i'm returning the favor now. somebody really needs to wear all the frilly little clothes in have boxed up in my attic.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270055537801560850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SSL_lvU-AxI/AAAAAAAAAE4/w1Kaj_mxWUE/s320/DSC02006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;                                                      ryan, stephie and lorelei ( 2 yrs. ago)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;being an aunt sounds great because you get to spoil the babies, cuddle them, then send them home with their parents. but- i must say that i have alot to live up to in this department. my kids have 3 aunts and 4 uncles, and they are all amazing. they go above and beyond in so many ways, and my children can't wait to see them any time they come to visit. i suppose their extra time, patience and consideration for lu and rett has come naturally to them because they just love them so much. praise the lord for that! so- i know i won't have a problem falling in love with these 2 babies, as the infatuation has already begun just from seeing ultrasound pictures. i guess the rest of the "aunting" will just fall into place once i get to kiss their little button noses and hear their giggles and gurgles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i also have 3 other dear friends due in the month of june, so it will be a big month around here. here's to getting babies to love without having to endure pregnancy and childbirth!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-4999953076695489436?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/4999953076695489436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=4999953076695489436' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4999953076695489436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4999953076695489436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-so-excited.html' title='i&apos;m so excited!'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SSL_lM03fMI/AAAAAAAAAEw/IGl_fg9L-5k/s72-c/DSC02003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-4402437169606690554</id><published>2008-11-06T18:59:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T19:14:58.024-06:00</updated><title type='text'>a pirate's life for me</title><content type='html'>i'm on a blogging roll today. i'm about typed out, but i had to share pics of my halloween cuties before christmas gets here. here's my tinkerbelle chasing a butterfly with friend sophie (ariel):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265715946609221154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SROUwSXAniI/AAAAAAAAAEA/R9j-1RwEUGE/s320/DSC03681.JPG" border="0" /&gt;and here's our captain hook:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265717304414452354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SROV_UlAOoI/AAAAAAAAAEI/JqqB3Pa-l_k/s320/DSC03698.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-4402437169606690554?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/4402437169606690554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=4402437169606690554' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4402437169606690554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4402437169606690554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-on-blogging-roll-today.html' title='a pirate&apos;s life for me'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SROUwSXAniI/AAAAAAAAAEA/R9j-1RwEUGE/s72-c/DSC03681.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-3940299096843454167</id><published>2008-11-06T18:07:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T18:50:28.790-06:00</updated><title type='text'>almost doesn't count</title><content type='html'>my sweet friend kylie "photo tagged" me so long ago that i had to go to her archives to find the blog where she stated the instructions. i almost responded to the challenge immediately, but didn't get to it then- or in the next couple of weeks that followed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;so here i am. rising to the occasion. finally. whoever coined the phrase "better late than never" must have been thinking of me because on any given day i could say that about myself more than once. anyway, on with the show. the instructions were to go to your 6th picture photo, find the sixth picture, and write about it. then tag 5 other people. i have to admit that i am so unorganized that on my desktop alone there are actually 6 folders that contain some type of unsorted, random photos- so here's what i found:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265704403257259122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SROKQYBb9HI/AAAAAAAAAD4/P4K5zHozjxo/s400/DSC03244.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;i realize that this picture desperately needs to be cropped, but i don't know how to do that on here. stop laughing- i'm still new to the blogging scene. anyway, there is beautiful scenery in the background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this was taken last april on pacific beach in san diego. although i haven't framed it- or even printed it for that matter- it is no doubt precious to me. first of all because of the subjects involved. seeing my sweet husband jeremy holding my precious blessing lorelei on her first ever trip to the beach just makes my heart flutter. i adore that man and all the ways that he enriches my life and the lives of our children with his presence. as i write this, he is working late and i am missing him. lorelei had such fun on the beach that day, but the water was so cold that it scared her. her daddy, her hero, wasn't going to let her miss the experience of standing in the ocean with the waves crashing around her- so he carried her. safe from the frigid water temperature and snug in her daddy's arms, she was having a great adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i also love this memory because san diego has such a special place in my heart. if i could live anywhere other than here- or possibly manhattan- san diego would definitely be the place. we've been vacationing there since i was a small child, and the smell of the ocean water is like valium to my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the final reason why this trip meant the world to me was because we were there for my sister's wedding. this was the second time she had gotten married. in the one year. to the same man. i know what you're thinking, "mandy, you got some 'splainin' to do." stephanie and ryan were married in a small, beautiful, backyard wedding in july of 2007. though they had planned to marry later that year in a ceremony filled with family and friends from across the globe, they decided to move the wedding up because ryan is an officer in the marines, and he was being deployed to iraq in august. her returned home safely (praise god!) 8 months later, and we traveled back to SD to be present as they celebrated their incredible love story with the wedding of their dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everything about that trip was great fun, and i can't think of a better memory than one filled with the people i love, in a place that i love, experiencing new things and celebrating together! thanks for tagging me, kylie. and i now tag jill, alison, tiffany, kyna and the forrest family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-3940299096843454167?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/3940299096843454167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=3940299096843454167' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/3940299096843454167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/3940299096843454167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/11/almost-doesnt-count.html' title='almost doesn&apos;t count'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SROKQYBb9HI/AAAAAAAAAD4/P4K5zHozjxo/s72-c/DSC03244.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-4029832494556439102</id><published>2008-10-21T12:01:00.020-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T13:53:09.315-05:00</updated><title type='text'>oh midway high forever</title><content type='html'>last weekend was my 10 year high school reunion. i was actually able to set fairly low expectations- thanks in part to the reflections in my last blog- and i have to say i was not disappointed. honestly, the highlight of the weekend was having so many of my friends here at one time. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259678778319689842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SP4h-15n2HI/AAAAAAAAADg/vn0a4HgGLxg/s320/reunion.JPG" border="0" /&gt; tiffany, one of my bff's since 3rd grade, and her sweet husband steven came and spent the whole weekend at our house while the kids were sleeping away with their grandparents. friday night before the football game 10 of us got together for pizza at my house and i just loved looking around the room seeing the faces of those who were so important to me in high school and remain the true staples of my life today. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259679441568087282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SP4ilcsXPPI/AAAAAAAAADo/JRmpS12zmeA/s320/tif+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt; we were then off for a whirlwind weekend full of conversations with old friends. it was really fun to catch up and see how people were and what they are doing now. i have to say that there weren't many huge changes- at least not in the people who showed up. most people still looked about the same, but i did really enjoy seeing their children at the family picnic we had on saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that night was the big event, and i enjoyed having a reason to get dressed up. there were people i definitely missed seeing, but for the most part i had 4 hours of fun while my dear husband endured 4 hours of slow torture. he was such a trooper, though. not one complaint all weekend. even when tif and i were up until 2:00 am both nights reliving our high school experience through year books, old pictures, and a box of notes i dug up at my mom's house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;did i mention in my last blog not only my tendency to idealize the future but also to romanticize the past? i mean, i love, love, love my life now as a wife and a mother, but it have to say that inside i still don't feel like a "gown-up." when lorelei was learning to speak, she couldn't say grown-up so she instead used the word "grumps." i've gotta say that the life i lived 10 years ago still feels like yesterday in some respects, and as much as i wouldn't ever trade what i have now to go back there, i don't know that i'm ready to be a "grump" either. =&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so is there anything i really miss about high school? other than panther football season, of course? sure. i miss having my friends like tif, marc and alison a few streets away instead of out of reach for real daily contact. though i don't really miss the drama and insecurities that are common for teenagers, i do sometimes think of the freedom that i had then to make all the decisions (and mistakes) i wanted based solely on my emotions and the way i felt that day because they didn't affect anyone but me. i also know i was busy then, but my whole calendar was filled with things that i wanted to do instead of the busyness i have now that relates to cleaning, laundry and diaper changing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the point is- it was fun acting like the 16 year old version of myself this weekend and catching up with people who made those times so turbulent and exciting, but today i am glad to wake up back in my current life filled with little voices, big smiles, a handsome husband and yes- even a diaper or two!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-4029832494556439102?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/4029832494556439102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=4029832494556439102' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4029832494556439102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/4029832494556439102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/10/oh-midway-high-forever.html' title='oh midway high forever'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SP4h-15n2HI/AAAAAAAAADg/vn0a4HgGLxg/s72-c/reunion.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-8014058419749128897</id><published>2008-10-13T13:33:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T21:55:11.371-05:00</updated><title type='text'>where the green grass grows</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SPOk-TWEOEI/AAAAAAAAAC4/YyWyf4i-Iz0/s1600-h/said+mama.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; FLOAT: right; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256726580323170370" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SPOk-TWEOEI/AAAAAAAAAC4/YyWyf4i-Iz0/s320/said+mama.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i am not a pessimist, an optimist or a realist. i am the worst kind of "ist" a person can be. i am an idealist. that means that i tend to build things up- like people, events or projects to be so grand in my mind that the real thing can never live up to my dream. then, i am ultimately disappointed and find myself often giving in to the "grass is always greener" way of thinking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;don't get me wrong... i always know that i am blessed and that my momentary struggles are nothing compared to those of most, but today is a day when i'm particularly thankful as i begin counting my blessings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;this time last year, i was pregnant and miserable- looking like i swallowed the halloween pumpkin. but this year, i have the sweetest baby boy to show for it. last week, with a face full of yogurt, he looked right at me and muttered, "mama" for the first time! (see picture)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; this time last year, i had a sweet, smart 2 year old who was being tested for some terrifying medical conditions. but this year she is even sweeter and smarter, completely healed, and watching her take on the role of big sister in such a loving way has brought me enormous joy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;this time last year, i was missing my sister and praying for my brother in law as he served in iraq. now i'm still missing them both but incredibly grateful that ryan came home safely and they have been reunited.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;my mom was constantly busy and stressed, and although usually surrounded by people i knew she was lonely. now, she is still quite busy and stressed for different reasons, but she's happier than i've seen her in a long time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;* &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;my in-laws were in pflugerville and still waiting on a job transfer 3 years after they asked for it. now they live 5 minutes away, and we could not be happier to have so much time with them and the help they provide.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ok- you get the idea, but i'm just so thankful for all these answered prayers along with the fact that i have a great job, even better friends and the best family ever. thank you, jesus!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-8014058419749128897?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/8014058419749128897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=8014058419749128897' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/8014058419749128897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/8014058419749128897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/10/where-green-grass-grows.html' title='where the green grass grows'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SPOk-TWEOEI/AAAAAAAAAC4/YyWyf4i-Iz0/s72-c/said+mama.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-1107431049901862145</id><published>2008-10-03T23:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T00:27:46.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>play that funky music</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;i cannot find the words to express the meaning that music has in my life. there are songs that  make me weep either because of the way the lyrics are paired with the melody, or- more often- because of the memories that flood my mind each time i hear them. then there are songs that can lift my spirits  and relax me no matter how bad my day has been, and songs that make me double over with laughter thinking about how i misheard the words the first time i heard them (like the JLo song that i thought said "think i want to drive your pants -i don't.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;so it has always brought me joy to see lorelei's love for music and ability to remember songs and carry a tune. one prayer i have for my children is that they will have nice enough voices that if they love to sing they don't have to wait until they are alone in their cars to belt out their favorite songs like their mommy does. i was always so disappointed with the fact that i could dance pretty well, had a love for musical theater, but didn't have the voice to take me beyond being a chorus girl. yep- i'm sure that my lack of vocal talent is the ONLY thing that came between me and broadway ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;everett is still a bit young to show whether he will have such a passion for music, but this week i started to see a real connection. sweet rett is so busy these days, always pulling up and cruising around while holding on to furniture, and he just loves his mobility. therefore-- he has been very unhappy when strapped into his carseat lately. the entire time we are driving in the car, he is either crying, screaming, or hollering, "nana nana nana!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;so the other day while jeremy was driving, everett was wailing, and lorelei was covering her ears, i remembered something that worked while he was a newborn. i reached down and grabbed my rent soundtrack, popped it in, and started the song Seasons of Love. he heard the first note of the song, and he became silent. i've been doing it every day now, and it always works. only that song- but as soon as it begins, he calms down, gets quiet and turns his head to look out the window and relax. i love it! praise god it is a song i enjoy and not something that will get stuck in my head and keep me up at night like the 2 line songs sweet lulu sometimes sings like a broken record.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-1107431049901862145?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/1107431049901862145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=1107431049901862145' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/1107431049901862145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/1107431049901862145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/10/play-that-funky-music.html' title='play that funky music'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-1029708464280008654</id><published>2008-09-23T09:48:00.021-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T23:37:32.985-05:00</updated><title type='text'>catching up with my munchkins</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNkJqEfZSLI/AAAAAAAAACs/JmKfupIr-_E/s1600-h/rett+elmo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249237459041601714" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNkJqEfZSLI/AAAAAAAAACs/JmKfupIr-_E/s200/rett+elmo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Everett James&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AKA:&lt;/strong&gt; Rett, Little Buddy, Pudge Rodriguez, Jamesy Boy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Age:&lt;/strong&gt; 9 1/2 months&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Height:&lt;/strong&gt; 28 1/4 in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Weight:&lt;/strong&gt; 24 lbs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Loves:&lt;/strong&gt; eating (anything we'll give him), pulling up, "cruising,"&lt;br /&gt;giggling, giving kisses, telephones, and finding trouble&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cutest Quirks:&lt;/strong&gt; stubborn refusal to say "Mama," often gets stuck in strange places&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vices:&lt;/strong&gt; cannot resist other people's toes, cords, or food he finds&lt;br /&gt;on the floor, climbing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite words:&lt;/strong&gt; "DaDa," "Daddy," "Gandad," "Nana"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNkJicoQ2RI/AAAAAAAAACk/2vOmreS-Qbg/s1600-h/lu+cheeseburger.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249237328082295058" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNkJicoQ2RI/AAAAAAAAACk/2vOmreS-Qbg/s200/lu+cheeseburger.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Lorelei Camille&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AKA:&lt;/strong&gt; LuLu, Lulabelle, Belle, Sweet Pete&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Height:&lt;/strong&gt; 36 in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Weight:&lt;/strong&gt; 30 lbs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Age:&lt;/strong&gt; 3 1/2 yrs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Loves:&lt;/strong&gt; light pink, friends, sleepovers with grandparents,&lt;br /&gt;"Poke" (Poage) park, the "nuseum", movies, picnics on the floor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cutest Quirks:&lt;/strong&gt;puts ranch dressing on everything, insists on a new made up bedtime story from each parent every night, is the master of silly dance moves, watches herself&lt;br /&gt;cry in the mirror&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vices:&lt;/strong&gt; snacks and thumb sucking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite words:&lt;/strong&gt; "I'm hungry," and Knock-Knock jokes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta love 'em!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-1029708464280008654?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/1029708464280008654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=1029708464280008654' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/1029708464280008654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/1029708464280008654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/09/catching-up-with-my-munchkins.html' title='catching up with my munchkins'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNkJqEfZSLI/AAAAAAAAACs/JmKfupIr-_E/s72-c/rett+elmo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-6049160906139120864</id><published>2008-09-19T11:39:00.015-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T23:33:30.960-05:00</updated><title type='text'>nature or nurture?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNPr-V4510I/AAAAAAAAAAc/rvy1l5X0sP0/s1600-h/ballet.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247797447076992834" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNPr-V4510I/AAAAAAAAAAc/rvy1l5X0sP0/s200/ballet.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNPr-9jZg4I/AAAAAAAAAAk/aO1-POEI-Jg/s1600-h/sophie+ballet.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247797457724212098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNPr-9jZg4I/AAAAAAAAAAk/aO1-POEI-Jg/s200/sophie+ballet.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333399;"&gt; first off, let me say that my kids are AMAZING. i love them so much, and i wouldn't change a thing about either of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333399;"&gt;my sweet lorelei recently started taking dance class, and it got me thinking about how so many parents want their children to grow up to be just like them. i am not one of those parents. i so often find myself hoping that my daughter will be able to find her own way and be her own person while learning to love jesus and follow his plan for her life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333399;"&gt;so if she loves dance and wants to pursue it, i'll be there for every recital and competition. but- if she would rather play soccer, join the marching band or become an artist or accountant- i plan to be equally supportive. i just wonder how much of her already developing personality comes from genetics and how much she's picked up by living in our home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333399;"&gt;like the fact that her teachers told me this week that when her bff sophie (pictured above) is out of school, lorelei plays only with the boys. when i asked her about it, she responded, "sophie is a girl, but otherwise i just like devin and kyle at school." no matter how much this may sound like me- i did NOT teach it to her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333399;"&gt;or last halloween when she was 2 years old and i told her some of her friends were coming over. "we'll eat pizza and play," i said. and she quickly shot back, "and then parker will marry me in my minnie mouse skirt!" again- NOT my doing. sure we watch our share of cinderella and little mermaid around here, but i make sure to mix in an equal amount of bugs life and robin hood to keep the balance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333399;"&gt;now, i admit that the day she looked at jeremy across the dinner table and commanded, "daddy, stop pushing my buttons,"- that was all me. i guess i just wonder how much of this stuff she's learning from my example and how much i'm just trying to fight genetics when she seems too emotional or stubborn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333399;"&gt;luckily, she has picked up a few of her daddy's most admirable qualities like being extremely observant and having a memory like an elephant. about two days ago i was combing her hair and out of the blue she said, "hey mom- remember that day at swim lessons when hudson kept a bite of his dinner in his mouth the whole time? that was funny, huh?" that incident was in early june, and no one has mentioned it since. this girl remembers everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333399;"&gt;she got some of my good qualities, too. the kid can sing sone lyrics back to you after only hearing it once, and she is so maternal that she has never become jealous of her baby brother. so- next time i find myself worrying that she will make the same mistakes i do, or getting a bit weary from her endless banter and emotional melt downs- i'll just thank god for this precious, unique creation... and thank my mom-- once again-- for putting up with me all these years!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-6049160906139120864?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/6049160906139120864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=6049160906139120864' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/6049160906139120864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/6049160906139120864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/09/nature-or-nurture.html' title='nature or nurture?'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/SNPr-V4510I/AAAAAAAAAAc/rvy1l5X0sP0/s72-c/ballet.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4406732489135181747.post-7972010766431198700</id><published>2008-09-16T18:01:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T23:31:52.250-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Everybody's doing it!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;In recent weeks, I have become aware of the fact that most of my friends- especially the ones with kids- have all entered the world of blogging as a way to help friends and family keep up with their lives. I have never been one to give in easily to peer pressure. I mean, no matter how cool everyone thought the New Kids on the Block were, I didn't buy in to the boy band craze until N'SYNC came along with their real talent. And so- after much deliberation and procrastination- I have decided to jump on the bandwagon and become a blogger. Hopefully I'll have something interesting to say soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4406732489135181747-7972010766431198700?l=mandywalton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/feeds/7972010766431198700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4406732489135181747&amp;postID=7972010766431198700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/7972010766431198700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4406732489135181747/posts/default/7972010766431198700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mandywalton.blogspot.com/2008/09/everybodys-doing-it.html' title='Everybody&apos;s doing it!'/><author><name>Mandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o57RS4jH7vE/Sqh0uem5icI/AAAAAAAAAOU/qf0F54-lbJo/S220/blog.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
