<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652</id><updated>2009-12-30T21:31:05.146-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Greg and Kim</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Greg &amp;amp; Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10377026220543309858</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>204</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-1701922796082125854</id><published>2009-12-30T09:35:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T09:38:48.813-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blog is Up!</title><content type='html'>I have officially created my Bible blog and written a few introductory posts.  I can't wait until January 1, when I really get started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you get a chance, stop by.  Here is the &lt;a href="http://bibleblog365.blogspot.com/"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And maybe you could also say a prayer for my dedication in following through on this resolution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-1701922796082125854?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/1701922796082125854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=1701922796082125854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/1701922796082125854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/1701922796082125854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-is-up.html' title='The Blog is Up!'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-7612391347230803137</id><published>2009-12-29T12:40:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T14:08:39.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Motivational New Year's Blog</title><content type='html'>The new year is almost upon us!  You have no idea how excited this makes me!  Okay, maybe you do.  But more and more, I meet New Year's fatalists who refuse to make resolutions that they know they are just going to break.  And on one level, I understand that.  To say you are going to do something and then not do it is a defeating, discouraging experience.  If you have a track record of not following through on resolutions, I can see the urge to just call the whole thing off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But.  On the other hand, that is such a defeatist attitude!  Don't try something because you know you are going to fail??  That's the spirit:).  C'mon, it is the perfect time to resolve to do better.  We just finished a month of gluttony and indulgence; now is the time to get back on track.  Plus, the weather is cold, the days are short...what else are you going to do?  Go to the beach?  No.  You might as well take this opportunity to improve yourself.  You can do this!  It'll be great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To help maybe add some motivation, I will share my New Year's resolutions.  There are four of them, and they predictably have to do with fitness, both physical and spiritual.  My youngest child is about to turn two, so I figure that enough time has passed after all that baby-having to really focus on getting back in shape.  But even if you don't find the prospect of reading about my resolutions compelling (though they are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;groundbreaking&lt;/span&gt;, let me tell you), at least skip down to the fourth one and read that.  It's the most important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Run 150 days this year, and at least 12 days a month. &lt;/span&gt; That might sound crazy, and let me quickly clarify that I am not a runner.  I don't even like to run.  Furthermore, I'm horrible at it.  I feel very strongly that I don't have the respiratory system to be a runner.  When I run, it is two miles.  That's it.  No more.  I will never do a marathon; a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;5K&lt;/span&gt; is highly unlikely.  But I read a very convincing article in one of my teen magazines in high school, which extolled the virtues of running, and so I decided to try it.  The article maintained that running is a great way to keep in shape (which is true); it helps your immune system (which is true); it relieves stress (which is very true); and it leaves you feeling great, what they call a runner's high (which is an outright lie, devised by sick people who enjoy pain).  Though I never, ever get any thing close to a "high" from running, I do love the way it clears my head and relieves the stress of the day.  I'm sure there is a medical explanation for that, but the best I can figure is that the near death experience from lack of oxygen really helps put the rest of my life into perspective;).  This past year, I ran 137 days, so I figure 150 is not too much of a stretch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do crunches.&lt;/span&gt;  Daily.  Bi-daily.  With some regularity.  After gaining 50+ pounds with pregnancy &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;twice, &lt;/span&gt;my abs aren't going to flatten themselves:).  And though I will most likely never regain my pre-baby stomach, I'm tired of hearing John Reuben in my head whenever I see it in the mirror ("I'm not trying to be a nuisance/I just think we can do better than this").  I can count on one hand the number of times I did crunches in 2009.  That needs to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Be smarter about what I eat.&lt;/span&gt;  I know, I know--so ambiguous!  So &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not &lt;/span&gt;measurable.  Here's the thing.  I actually signed up with sparkpeople.com recently and counted calories for the first (and only) time in my life.  Turns out--and I am dead serious about this--I easily consume 2500 calories a day.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Easily.  &lt;/span&gt;Now, on the one hand, I will defend that number.  My body needs a lot of food!  It does!  And sleep, but that's another story.  I'm pretty convinced that my body has NO energy on its own.  I wear out so easily.  And at 5'9'', I'm a large mammal:).  So I need to eat.  Eat &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt;, apparently.  But, I mean, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;guess &lt;/span&gt;I can cut back a bit.  Maybe edge that number closer to 2000:).  For one thing, sparkpeople showed me that I eat way too much shredded cheese, and it would be a big step just to cut back on that.  So that's what I'll do.  Cut back on shredded cheddar.  And generally think more before stuffing my face:).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  This one is the most important.  And it will take more time and effort than the other three combined, but that's okay.   Because it's the most important (I may have mentioned that).  My last resolution is to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;read through the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One Year Bible&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.  I've done F. Lagard Smith's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Daily Bible&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;before, but, unlike the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Daily Bible&lt;/span&gt;, the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One Year Bible&lt;/span&gt; has an Old Testament and New Testament reading each day, along with an excerpt from Psalms and Proverbs.  That means no getting marooned in Ezekiel for weeks at a time.  Now, that resolution is daunting, but doable.  It's the other part of my resolution that has the most potential to crash and burn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other half of my last resolution is to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;blog the Bible&lt;/span&gt;.  In the past, I have loved journaling as I read through the Bible.  But by now, I type much faster than I write, and I am very much in the habit of blogging.  So I want to start a Bible blog, and basically blog about what I'm reading each day.  Or if not every day, then very regularly.  I'm going to confess:  I have planned for weeks to do this anonymously.  I have been harboring fears that if I said the wrong thing about the Bible, or asked the wrong question, or suggested the wrong interpretation, then I would offend someone and, God forbid, Greg may have to deal with some kind of brouhaha, being a paid minister.  Not that my views of the Bible are terribly controversial or anything.  I was just scared.  I like openness, but not controversy (and they often go hand in hand).  But Greg and I talked, and we decided that that is dumb.  The Christian life is not meant to be lived in fear.  I love the Bible, I love my Christian family, and I would love to combine those two loves and get feedback from people better read and wiser than I.  Or anyone, really:).  Plus, my mom is wanting to read the One Year Bible, too, as is my bff, and several members of our adult Sunday school class, so maybe this blog can be a place of mutual encouragement.  Or maybe the idea of reading my thoughts/theories/mental meanderings of Leviticus and Lamentations sounds completely mind-numbing to you.  That's okay, too.  Either way, I'm just putting it out there that it is something I'm going to try to do.  It's not to late to go buy the One Year Bible:).  If you are wanting to read it, just know that you will have company:)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So those are my resolutions.  It is definitely not a guarantee that I will follow through on them.  But better to try and fail than not try at all, right?  Whether you make formal resolutions or not, I hope that you all have a wonderful 2010 and that you step closer toward the person that you were designed to be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I've gotta go eat something....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-7612391347230803137?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/7612391347230803137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=7612391347230803137' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7612391347230803137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7612391347230803137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/motivational-new-years-blog.html' title='A Motivational New Year&apos;s Blog'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-5681216191981510011</id><published>2009-12-26T21:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T21:42:11.177-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Twelfth Day of Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;Christmas 2009:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJNQ9yXLI/AAAAAAAAGLw/vHvQBYnC2pk/s1600-h/100_0368%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0368" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJNqSU57I/AAAAAAAAGL0/ymCE0eo9sRk/100_0368_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="278" height="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Santa came and left gifts, even without the cookie bribe.&amp;#160; Maybe he's on a diet.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJOX0WH9I/AAAAAAAAGL4/Di5R99KSLLE/s1600-h/DSC08893%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="DSC08893" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJOxA7pXI/AAAAAAAAGL8/6IkCuUE1bxg/DSC08893_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="282" height="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The Hair Bear likes her new kitchen:)&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;     &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJPcmm7QI/AAAAAAAAGMA/7RHrotqbj2k/s1600-h/DSC08905%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="DSC08905" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJP2vrpvI/AAAAAAAAGME/X2hWpDw9ZuY/DSC08905_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="290" height="218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Opening the stocking stuffers from Gigi and Papa.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJQgnWneI/AAAAAAAAGMI/5eMdFwEW-Eg/s1600-h/100_0395%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0395" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJREvuD2I/AAAAAAAAGMM/0ENsE8HBUnI/100_0395_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="287" height="216" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Anna in her new apron and hat.&amp;#160; She looks thrilled.&amp;#160; She warmed up to it.&amp;#160; And a word on me posting a picture of myself first thing in the morning with no makeup:&amp;#160; my college roommate, Drea, had kind of a zen philosophy on pictures.&amp;#160; It didn't matter so much if they were good or bad, she said.&amp;#160; What was important was that they captured how you looked at a certain moment in time, whatever that was.&amp;#160; And at this particular moment in time, I was happy.&amp;#160; And I want to remember that.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJRl5LGkI/AAAAAAAAGMQ/Kf8NVW2iuLI/s1600-h/100_0413%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0413" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJRzjOC7I/AAAAAAAAGMU/sfFp1jzxvVo/100_0413_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="212" height="281" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Cooking away.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJSme2VhI/AAAAAAAAGMY/kPM41HHQyik/s1600-h/100_0420%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0420" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJSwUol8I/AAAAAAAAGMc/yGEZm2HJeI4/100_0420_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="264" height="199" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Stirring her spices.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJTpf3fJI/AAAAAAAAGMg/N822eT2bj1U/s1600-h/100_0440%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0440" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJT73FUII/AAAAAAAAGMk/J3GQru2qmiI/100_0440_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="264" height="199" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Based strictly on initial reaction, this was Luke's favorite present.&amp;#160; Who needs a new bike when you have a coffee table book called &lt;em&gt;North American Locomotives&lt;/em&gt;???&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJU3t4TXI/AAAAAAAAGMo/zidnSoJPJKg/s1600-h/100_0411%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0411" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJVGruygI/AAAAAAAAGMs/6pfoNtyNID4/100_0411_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="272" height="205" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I figured this was the best way to get the boy to nail down his teens.&amp;#160; Maybe he will see once and for all that there is &lt;em&gt;no such thing&lt;/em&gt; as &amp;quot;eleventeen&amp;quot;!&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJb3CixGI/AAAAAAAAGM0/ARM0oulBNrw/s1600-h/100_0442%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0442" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJcMHagKI/AAAAAAAAGM4/hyTvpMR6a4c/100_0442_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="271" height="204" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I was also able to pick up some library favorites (&lt;em&gt;Counting Kisses &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;The Goodnight Train&lt;/em&gt;) for really cheap.&amp;#160; Luke, especially, was excited about that.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJc1XLQJI/AAAAAAAAGM8/MUaxsVsaypI/s1600-h/DSC08926%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="DSC08926" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJdcnEgAI/AAAAAAAAGNA/h7fIggAJdjE/DSC08926_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="272" height="205" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Toward the end of the present unwrapping, Greg went to make our chocolate chip pancakes.&amp;#160; That is always a fan favorite in the Kirby house...&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJdyhhVHI/AAAAAAAAGNE/xLALuU1bZZo/s1600-h/DSC08931%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="DSC08931" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJeZacN5I/AAAAAAAAGNI/XVGhgkZimGs/DSC08931_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="278" height="209" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ...as you can probably tell!&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJfI9N35I/AAAAAAAAGNM/30hQbzf21gc/s1600-h/DSC08928%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="DSC08928" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJfULKUXI/AAAAAAAAGNQ/WSM07Czlu3E/DSC08928_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="278" height="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Luke did end up loving his bike...&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJgIZMvUI/AAAAAAAAGNU/SN4POzkf6uc/s1600-h/DSC08936%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="DSC08936" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbJguusA-I/AAAAAAAAGNY/kKS2-BDtUbM/DSC08936_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="285" height="215" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;...as did Anna! &lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; We had a wonderful Christmas and are so thankful to God for our family.&amp;#160; We hope that you had a great day, too!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-5681216191981510011?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/5681216191981510011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=5681216191981510011' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/5681216191981510011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/5681216191981510011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/twelfth-day-of-christmas.html' title='The Twelfth Day of Christmas'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-189299959637094634</id><published>2009-12-26T21:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T21:14:11.099-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Eleventh Day of Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On Christmas eve...&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbC6JBMLQI/AAAAAAAAGLY/jx-MYYAgLsI/s1600-h/IMG_3940%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3940" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbC6ZBGdxI/AAAAAAAAGLc/IhW03kFrfsw/IMG_3940_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="288" height="217" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbC7HlDy6I/AAAAAAAAGLg/HsZhRNgdeck/s1600-h/IMG_3947%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3947" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbC7mQpfxI/AAAAAAAAGLk/6eyu-JewmSs/IMG_3947_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="289" height="218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Gaga and Granddaddy came to our house, and we ate dinner at Carrabba's.&amp;#160; Love that place.&amp;#160; On the way home, we took my parents to see some of the Christmas lights in town.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbC8PxLMJI/AAAAAAAAGLo/ifsaYW2JzRQ/s1600-h/IMG_3949%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3949" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbC8ty_AVI/AAAAAAAAGLs/L0EK3L9U6Fw/IMG_3949_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="297" height="224" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Then, we came home and watched a Christmas movie.&amp;#160; It looks pretty intense, judging by their faces, but it was just a &amp;quot;Really Wooly&amp;quot; Christmas cartoon that Gaga had brought.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; Next, we Luke, Anna, and Gaga put some glittery oats out in the yard so that the reindeer could see them.&amp;#160; (Luke had made these at preschool.)&amp;#160; We totally forgot to bake cookies for Santa.&amp;#160; Luckily, he came anyway:).  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-189299959637094634?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/189299959637094634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=189299959637094634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/189299959637094634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/189299959637094634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/eleventh-day-of-christmas.html' title='The Eleventh Day of Christmas'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-7477256558745991335</id><published>2009-12-26T21:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T21:04:01.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Twelve Days of Christmas, Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Seventh Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAZfpcmfI/AAAAAAAAGKI/lKGdLAFGVsY/s1600-h/IMG_3844%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3844" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAZ-YdzlI/AAAAAAAAGKM/7tvCCkaqtf8/IMG_3844_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="318" height="242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On the Sunday before Christmas, we went to the Senior High Christmas party at the Lesters' house.&amp;#160; It was fun spending time with the teens and watching the &amp;quot;Dirty Santa&amp;quot; gift swap.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Eighth Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAahiaOhI/AAAAAAAAGKQ/Qc3_f6mv_Sw/s1600-h/IMG_3870%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3870" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAa0iLXYI/AAAAAAAAGKU/Z1Ryc7xCags/IMG_3870_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="297" height="226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAbtlO3RI/AAAAAAAAGKY/52Zcn84iUdY/s1600-h/IMG_3872%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3872" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAcKC-YvI/AAAAAAAAGKc/Tvz7M7n9c9k/IMG_3872_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="292" height="222" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAc5tuBPI/AAAAAAAAGKg/d-sxUd0gJR8/s1600-h/IMG_3889%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3889" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAdYTY3mI/AAAAAAAAGKk/0G6FlA9Teg8/IMG_3889_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="289" height="220" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On Monday, we headed to Macon to see my grandparents and parents.&amp;#160; My grandparents were leaving that afternoon for Florida, but were waiting to see us.&amp;#160; It was wonderful to see them!&amp;#160; They also came bearing gifts, which started the present-opening that pretty much didn't stop until Christmas.&amp;#160; My mom is all about early present-opening:).&amp;#160; Anna's favorite gift was a baby doll that she immediately fell in love with and fed and nurtured.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Ninth Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAd0IPZNI/AAAAAAAAGKo/LwBA_kfBIhU/s1600-h/100_0277%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0277" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAefKpw8I/AAAAAAAAGKs/Du68ArycUz4/100_0277_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="300" height="228" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAfFIQaPI/AAAAAAAAGKw/nKu0l_YJqKs/s1600-h/100_0323%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAf4IHW3I/AAAAAAAAGK0/7sMvp-tOpYI/s1600-h/100_0329%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0329" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAgS9IxMI/AAAAAAAAGK4/2eJkBks337w/100_0329_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="297" height="226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0323" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAguOVJNI/AAAAAAAAGK8/gHB0PcHhd7Q/100_0323_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="297" height="226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAhX7VmYI/AAAAAAAAGLA/CzMdYNZD5Q0/s1600-h/100_0350%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0350" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAh4xqiEI/AAAAAAAAGLE/gPHFKLxACNs/100_0350_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="292" height="222" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAighkNMI/AAAAAAAAGLI/-DagFq8zDt8/s1600-h/100_0355%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="100_0355" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAi08hsnI/AAAAAAAAGLM/daIaaLdQ13g/100_0355_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="288" height="219" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On Tuesday, we spent a lazy morning at Gaga's that largely centered around the living room floor and the kids' new sleeping bags from Gaga and Granddaddy.&amp;#160; That evening, the Noes and Prettymans came by to exchange gifts.&amp;#160; It is always good to spend time with them--such a wonderful family!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Tenth Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAjg838sI/AAAAAAAAGLQ/rq9syfN0Ork/s1600-h/IMG_3932%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3932" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzbAkNS7OWI/AAAAAAAAGLU/3VmXHT76Qvk/IMG_3932_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="297" height="226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On the tenth day of Christmas, we had to go home:(.&amp;#160; Poor Anna--she had gotten so attached to Granddad and just squalled when he put her in the car.&amp;#160; And look at mean Gaga, laughing at her pain:).&amp;#160; J/k--we were all pretty amused.&amp;#160; It was sad, but also so cute.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-7477256558745991335?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/7477256558745991335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=7477256558745991335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7477256558745991335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7477256558745991335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/twelve-days-of-christmas-part-2.html' title='The Twelve Days of Christmas, Part 2'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-4382886937004758611</id><published>2009-12-25T13:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T14:50:54.787-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUXfjBwk7I/AAAAAAAAGHQ/9zRDOuJ7vB8/s1600-h/Christmas%20Card.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="Christmas Card" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUVxKHD3wI/AAAAAAAAGHU/Sp700ElUBGQ/Christmas%20Card_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="336" height="259" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;(the front of our Christmas card this year)   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUXnfMpS0I/AAAAAAAAGHs/96CiERS11XQ/s1600-h/christmasinside2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUXnfMpS0I/AAAAAAAAGHs/96CiERS11XQ/s1600-h/christmasinside2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUXnfMpS0I/AAAAAAAAGHs/96CiERS11XQ/s1600-h/christmasinside2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUXnfMpS0I/AAAAAAAAGHs/96CiERS11XQ/s1600-h/christmasinside2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUXnfMpS0I/AAAAAAAAGHs/96CiERS11XQ/s1600-h/christmasinside2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUXnfMpS0I/AAAAAAAAGHs/96CiERS11XQ/s1600-h/christmasinside2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUXnfMpS0I/AAAAAAAAGHs/96CiERS11XQ/s1600-h/christmasinside2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUXnfMpS0I/AAAAAAAAGHs/96CiERS11XQ/s1600-h/christmasinside2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="christmas inside" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzUVycyVGzI/AAAAAAAAGHg/h63L5m-ahn0/christmas%20inside_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="348" height="265" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; (Inside top)  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;This year, 2009, has definitely had its ups and downs, its blessings and its trying times. I think our Christmas photo shoot really encapsulates the spirit of the year. We are blessed beyond measure by our beautiful children who amaze, entertain, and befuddle us at regular intervals. We are also so thankful for the seasons that God gives us. The one in which our family currently finds itself is fun and crazy, and we wouldn't trade it for the world. But it's definitely a tough time to get a decent family photo! We hope your family is enjoying the season of the year and the season of your life.&amp;quot;  &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Wishing you and your family a wonderful Christmas and Happy New Year!    &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-4382886937004758611?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/4382886937004758611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=4382886937004758611' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/4382886937004758611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/4382886937004758611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas!'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-1927348315553053881</id><published>2009-12-25T02:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T02:35:53.198-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa Update</title><content type='html'>3 hours later with the help of Grandaddy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jXBg--WHi1M/SzRqtRAPKqI/AAAAAAAAA8A/oVB21mWTzHs/s1600-h/DSC08885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jXBg--WHi1M/SzRqtRAPKqI/AAAAAAAAA8A/oVB21mWTzHs/s320/DSC08885.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-1927348315553053881?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/1927348315553053881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=1927348315553053881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/1927348315553053881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/1927348315553053881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/santa-update.html' title='Santa Update'/><author><name>Greg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03369241753045956644</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06032515764949721488'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jXBg--WHi1M/SzRqtRAPKqI/AAAAAAAAA8A/oVB21mWTzHs/s72-c/DSC08885.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-2572664645068526777</id><published>2009-12-24T23:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T23:33:17.052-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Photographic Proof</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;...that Greg loves his daughter:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzRAhR4lvOI/AAAAAAAAGGs/rqo_fAfuAt4/s1600-h/DSC08882%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="DSC08882" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzRAh6Fl9xI/AAAAAAAAGGw/Pu9O78h7Ajo/DSC08882_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="221" height="293" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzRAiuqVGoI/AAAAAAAAGG0/88sSi-xEnJc/s1600-h/DSC08881%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="DSC08881" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzRAjHZlW2I/AAAAAAAAGG4/IlBKPDaI3Og/DSC08881_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="297" height="224" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;This picture was taken around 11:20 pm on Christmas eve.&amp;#160; Hopefully by tomorrow it will be a play kitchen.&amp;#160; I won't be around to see the transformation because I'm going to bed:).&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; Merry Christmas, everyone!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-2572664645068526777?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/2572664645068526777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=2572664645068526777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/2572664645068526777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/2572664645068526777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/photographic-proof.html' title='Photographic Proof'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-7112046461161476363</id><published>2009-12-23T18:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T18:47:09.788-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Twelve Days of Christmas, Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;This Christmas season has been full of festivities.&amp;#160; It seems like there is something Christmas-y going on almost everyday.&amp;#160; Here is a sampling:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The First Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqlgF6LmI/AAAAAAAAGFw/niFiJwN9fPk/s1600-h/12-14%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="12-14" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqnXPiNbI/AAAAAAAAGF0/BzjvDZyrZCM/12-14_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="353" height="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Last Monday was Luke's preschool Christmas program.&amp;#160; I was very curious to see how he would handle all the people in the auditorium, but he did great.&amp;#160; Well, he barely sang, really, but he moved his mouth appropriately, and I'm sure that &lt;em&gt;some&lt;/em&gt; sound came out:).&amp;#160; But he also stood still, didn't fidget, and didn't cry, scream, or pick his nose, so I deem it a great success!&amp;#160; Afterwards we went to McDonald's to get ice cream to celebrate.&amp;#160; I have to record this moment:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqul85pxI/AAAAAAAAGF8/e2qYpcds_VM/s1600-h/IMG_3769%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3769" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKquw_oC4I/AAAAAAAAGGA/FGOqeUY6fFQ/IMG_3769_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The play area was way high, and Anna got on a platform from which she could not easily descend...and so Greg had to go up and rescue her.&amp;#160; I really don't think I'll miss the forays into the children's play areas at fast food restaurants.&amp;#160; I'll be happy when my kids are old enough to fend for themselves in there:).&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Second Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On Tuesday, we had our Mommy and Me Christmas party at my friend Courtney's house.&amp;#160; Courtney and I have very similar personalities and party planning tactics.&amp;#160; I'll let you use your own adjectives to describe our way of doing things (there are a wide range, depending on your personal preferences:)), but let's just say that her party had four smoothly-running stations, in which the children made ornaments, mixed together &amp;quot;snowman soup,&amp;quot; listened to Christmas stories, and decorated Cheerio Christmas tree snacks.&amp;#160; It was a lot of fun.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqv1QMrAI/AAAAAAAAGGE/R7oC4r-phaU/s1600-h/12-15%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="12-15" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqwQAmlWI/AAAAAAAAGGI/m1xGyMs9PZk/12-15_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="331" height="226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Third Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On Wednesday, Luke had his Christmas party at preschool.&amp;#160; It was a pajama party, and they had a wrapped book exchange.&amp;#160; Luke came home with a monster book, a tummy full of pizza and chips, and several gifts from his teachers and various classmates.&amp;#160; He was a happy boy!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqxLqU8_I/AAAAAAAAGGM/NFfJ4QX4zoA/s1600-h/12-16%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="12-16" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqxpJOCXI/AAAAAAAAGGQ/C59u3mgxO6w/12-16_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="278" height="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Fourth Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Thursday was our first full day at home in a long while, so we spent it baking.&amp;#160; Because I am a crazy person, I tried four new recipes with varying degrees of success.&amp;#160; But everything came out edible, so that was good.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqybl9r4I/AAAAAAAAGGU/egVinRrJQOE/s1600-h/IMG_3805%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3805" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqy4D98bI/AAAAAAAAGGY/SA2F7W9UnRI/IMG_3805_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;That evening, we went to find Christmas lights.&amp;#160; We had heard of a few good displays in the area.&amp;#160; My favorite was this one house that was set to music.&amp;#160; It was one of those that you tune your radio to a certain station, and the lights move in time to the songs.&amp;#160; I've seen a few, but this one was probably the best I've ever seen.&amp;#160; Locals, ask me where this is.&amp;#160; You have to see it!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqzmKsXXI/AAAAAAAAGGc/JAUxm6MZlXs/s1600-h/IMG_3808%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3808" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKqz68W4cI/AAAAAAAAGGg/08rntc5uQRc/IMG_3808_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="261" height="197" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Fifth Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On Friday, Greg took the kids to go Christmas shopping for me.&amp;#160; What a sweetie.&amp;#160; It did make me feel really guilty that I had not bought him a gift yet, nor did I have any idea what to get him.&amp;#160; It seems that guys tend to have really expensive tastes!&amp;#160; That night, we were going to have a Christmas movie night but could not find any good, toddler-friendly Christmas movies at Blockbuster.&amp;#160; So we rented &lt;em&gt;Up&lt;/em&gt; instead.&amp;#160; I really liked it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;No picture for today.&amp;#160; Sorry:).&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Sixth Day of Christmas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Okay, I can't really think of anything Christmas-y that we did on Saturday.&amp;#160; But our friends, Will and Melissa, were in town (on &lt;em&gt;Christmas break!&lt;/em&gt;&amp;#160; There we go!), and they came over for dinner.&amp;#160; We had a great time catching up with them.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKq0xEqAWI/AAAAAAAAGGk/zf7aBMypL6Y/s1600-h/IMG_3813%5B7%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3813" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SzKq1J4641I/AAAAAAAAGGo/WYm29iujW_w/IMG_3813_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="297" height="224" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; We'll end there for now.&amp;#160; As you can probably tell, we have really been enjoying this holiday season, and we hope that your family has, too.&amp;#160; What a great time of year!  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-7112046461161476363?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/7112046461161476363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=7112046461161476363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7112046461161476363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7112046461161476363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/twelve-days-of-christmas-part-1.html' title='The Twelve Days of Christmas, Part 1'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-3933007041774171863</id><published>2009-12-18T09:23:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T09:32:23.207-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dubious Genius of Toddlers</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;My children regularly do and say things that blow me away.  And I don't necessarily always mean that in a good way:).&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Sometimes, I am sure that they are brilliant.  Sometimes, I'm ready to contact the Rhodes scholar people and send them pictures of my kids just so that they can see the future of their scholarship program.  (I don't really know what a Rhodes scholar is; could you tell?)  But the point is, I'm convinced that these kids are Stephen-Hawking-level geniuses.  Take Anna.  She is one year old.  Less than two.  A little baby.  Have I made my point?  She's young.  And yesterday, with no prompting or previous teaching, she counted to thirteen.  I have never, ever attempted to count past three with her.  Thirteen!  And on Wednesday, when Greg was going over the advent calendar with them, he asked Anna to fill in one.  Here was his prompt: "The angel said...."  And here is what Anna responded: "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God."  I. Kid. You. Not.  I was making my grocery list at the dining room table, and I turned around mid-sentence to gape.  That child is not even two!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;But then...I have to take into consideration other factors.  For instance, that she doesn't know how to eat bread.  It is like a mental block.  If I &lt;em&gt;cut&lt;/em&gt; the bread, or even tear it in half, she's good.  But if I give her a whole piece of bread or a whole sandwich, she looks at it like it's an alien.  She considers how on earth she is going to eat this thing.  And then she always comes to same conclusion.  She goes through the middle:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyuQdTV5wbI/AAAAAAAAGEw/RG76U3AhmBU/s1600-h/IMG_3810%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3810" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyuQdvwAG3I/AAAAAAAAGE0/GPJycoAsoHM/IMG_3810_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="215" width="285" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyuQeWPXjpI/AAAAAAAAGE4/q69FsXum2QU/s1600-h/IMG_3812%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3812" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyuQegv2c6I/AAAAAAAAGE8/qWd3PLzXoIc/IMG_3812_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="215" width="285" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyuQfSrJIvI/AAAAAAAAGFA/m7IvwHc6Cbc/s1600-h/IMG_3809%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3809" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyuQfjGjcuI/AAAAAAAAGFE/mdekmqoFSRg/IMG_3809_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="216" width="286" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Always.  She will inevitably end up with a face full of butter or peanut butter and a piece of bread with a nice little hole in the middle.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; So...she can quote whole verses of Scripture but can't eat bread.  Makes me reconsider contacting those Rhodes scholar people:).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-3933007041774171863?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/3933007041774171863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=3933007041774171863' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/3933007041774171863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/3933007041774171863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/dubious-genius-of-toddlers.html' title='The Dubious Genius of Toddlers'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-5659597168843643522</id><published>2009-12-14T15:10:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T15:34:07.302-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts on Teaching Children</title><content type='html'>First and foremost, I've gotta hand it to the Catholics.  They have some great tricks for teaching kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I only know one, and it's called the Advent calendar.  At least, I think that's Catholic.  Anyway, I have always loved the idea, despite never having one as a child.  I was mainly attracted to it because of the candy and the countdown aspect of it.  So when our friend, Mrs. Noe, got the kids each one this year, I was pumped.  The kind she got were the cardboard ones with the little chocolates behind the doors, and a picture of the nativity scene on the front.  Again, I was strictly in it for the candy, so imagine my surprise when--great day!--there were actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bible verses &lt;/span&gt;behind each door telling the story of the birth of Jesus.  In King James and everything.  These calendars were hard core.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...we started reading them each day.  And then I started leaving out words and letting the kids fill them in.  And now...Luke can practically quote to me the nativity story, and even Anna can fill in some blanks.  Plus, Anna can identify baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the wise men (I know, I know, not an accurate nativity scene, but whatev), the shepherds, the angel, and the camel (was there a camel there?).  And since it's in King James, Luke has learned all sorts of great words like virgin, conceive, womb...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...okay so we haven't overemphasized those.  But that brings me to my second (and final) random thought.  I can't decide if it's that I have no imagination or that I'm a nerd who just finds the truth fascinating, but I have apparently taken the "honesty" approach to answering my children's questions.  Does this make me weird?  From talking to other moms, I am beginning to wonder....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when my son asks me why we can't rewind a song on the radio, I launch into an explanation of how the songs on the radio are really from people in a building across town who are picking out the songs and sending them to us on invisible waves.  And how the songs don't come just to us, but instead go to all the other cars and radios listening to that station.  And so even though you, Luke, would love nothing more than to listen to "Go Tell it on the Mountain" on repeat, other people may not like that song.  So the people who choose the radio songs try not to play the same song too often...okay, I think we all understand the concept of a radio.  You get my point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my child asks a question, I feel compelled to give him an honest answer.  And I try to be thorough, but I also have to factor in his age and maturity and all that.  The other night while the kids were in the tub, for instance, I may or may not have received an anatomical question, which I answered (correctly) with, "To make babies."  And I may or may not have then been asked, "So when can I make babies?"  And the rest of the conversation may or may not have gone:  "Not until you get married."  "I don't want to ever get married."  "Then you can never make babies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's sometimes hard to know how much info to give.  Maybe that was too much (I actually had to restrain myself; I am all about education:)).  But I apparently have a strict policy that all my information be accurate.  That's probably the biggest reason I take the "Santa lives in our imagination" approach.  I just hope that in spelling out the answers to their questions in black and white, I'm not stunting &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;their &lt;/span&gt;imaginations...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-5659597168843643522?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/5659597168843643522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=5659597168843643522' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/5659597168843643522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/5659597168843643522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/random-thoughts-on-teaching-children.html' title='Random Thoughts on Teaching Children'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-4427452805173687887</id><published>2009-12-13T12:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T12:41:45.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Quick Funny</title><content type='html'>So this morning, Luke took my phone off the nightstand and told me he was going to call Gaga.  I said that was fine, so he did.  She wasn't home, so he left a message.  And that's the last time I thought about my phone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...until right before church service, when Greg told me that a certain three year old had gotten a cell phone call during Sunday school.  Unbeknownst to me, Luke had put my cell phone &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in his pocket&lt;/span&gt;, and Gaga returned his call while he was sitting in class.  And the funny thing was, the call was, in fact, for him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, yeah.  I bet his teachers weren't expecting cell phones to be a problem so soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-4427452805173687887?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/4427452805173687887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=4427452805173687887' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/4427452805173687887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/4427452805173687887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/quick-funny.html' title='Quick Funny'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-4617555881277141059</id><published>2009-12-12T14:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T14:12:52.261-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hustle and Bustle</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I've always had an image of the Christmas season being filled with hustle and bustle, with fun and parties and baking and gift-giving and &lt;em&gt;activity&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;#160; And that is what this season has been thus far.&amp;#160; We had the gingerbread house party and the Jr. High Christmas party.&amp;#160; We went to the annual barbecue at the church.&amp;#160; We've been out to celebrate my birthday, and we went to another party today.&amp;#160; We have Luke's Christmas program coming up and two more kids' Christmas parties next week.&amp;#160; We have had something to do every day this week and most of next week.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Which is great.&amp;#160; But I'm also a homebody who likes calmness and peace.&amp;#160; And I find myself really latching on to &amp;quot;interior moments&amp;quot; these last few days, moments of calm and quiet with just our family.&amp;#160; This desire has been reflected in my choices for Project 365 photos, I think.&amp;#160; Yesterday, for example, contained scenes like this:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPql9mr-2I/AAAAAAAAGDo/Q9KDVrbnUR8/s1600-h/IMG_3640%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3640" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPqmSWGdsI/AAAAAAAAGDs/rxOR7Au3-Dk/IMG_3640_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="276" height="208" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;But for my project 365, I went with this:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPqnA3aFaI/AAAAAAAAGDw/hhtr6AQPIxs/s1600-h/IMG_3617%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3617" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPqnuuovqI/AAAAAAAAGD0/eb9SvRwSEIA/IMG_3617_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="280" height="211" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Today has had scenes like this:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPqohi9iGI/AAAAAAAAGD4/SaBQkaCkADc/s1600-h/IMG_3713%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3713" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPqpGjSP_I/AAAAAAAAGEA/zjE1L6VTq4c/IMG_3713_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="288" height="217" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;But instead of going with a party picture, I'm thinking of going with this:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPqqGLWC-I/AAAAAAAAGEE/5D8U2007CQg/s1600-h/IMG_3667%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3667" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPqqqQDlTI/AAAAAAAAGEI/dHl38CU-mLE/IMG_3667_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="285" height="215" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;and this:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPrMe1ohuI/AAAAAAAAGEY/tv-MqVSv_gQ/s1600-h/IMG_3669%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3669" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPrM2oBOOI/AAAAAAAAGEc/JlDQ5X15vW0/IMG_3669_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" height="214" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; Having these moments and seeing these pictures reminds me that as much as I love the Christmas season and all its fun, I love quiet moments with my family even more.&amp;#160; In all the hustle in bustle, it's moments like these that I really want to remember and treasure.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-4617555881277141059?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/4617555881277141059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=4617555881277141059' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/4617555881277141059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/4617555881277141059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/hustle-and-bustle.html' title='Hustle and Bustle'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-5870320562607098205</id><published>2009-12-12T13:16:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T14:16:18.795-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rememberies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPmbpGdyFI/AAAAAAAAGDg/0mk0rCKnxpQ/s1600-h/12-10.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPmbpGdyFI/AAAAAAAAGDg/0mk0rCKnxpQ/s320/12-10.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414424539593295954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after Thanksgiving, our family was eating dinner.  Luke announced that after dinner, he wanted to play his new game, "Membery."  "You mean Memory?" we asked.  No.  He was adamant that it had a "b."  "It makes sense," I told Greg.  "He's probably thinking of the word, 'Remember.'"  Hearing that, Luke clarified that the name of the game was actually, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Re&lt;/span&gt;membery."  We went back and forth, all laughing and being stubborn, each of us insisting on the correctness of our own view.  At one point, Greg turned to me, amused, and asked, "What do you think?  Should we go with the opinion of the 29 and 28 year olds?  Or should we go with the three year old?"  I couldn't respond, because I was too busy laughing at Luke, who had caught on to what Greg was saying and was adamantly jabbing/pointing to his chest, as if to say, "The three year old!"  Greg laughed, too, and said, "We can't tell you anything."  To which Luke immediately retorted, "Yes, you can!  You can tell me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Luke and Anna are always adding to my "rememberies" with the silly things they say.  Last week, Luke was talking on the phone to Gaga as we drove the 45 minutes downtown to the children's museum.  We were well into the "trip" when I handed the phone back for him to talk.  It happened to be just as we passed some animals (I guess; I didn't see them).  And so he immediately said, "Gaga!  I just saw some animals by the road!  I saw some horses, and a...a...rhinoceros!"  I heard my mom laughing and explaining on speaker phone how she didn't think that rhinoceroses lived around our house.  "But Gaga," he intoned seriously, "we are a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;long&lt;/span&gt; way from home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one happened awhile back.  Luke had run upstairs to get one of Anna's ponytail holders to hook together some of his trains.  On the way down, he was explaining to Greg how ponytail holders were for girls and not boys.  "When girls fix their hair, it's called a 'ponytail,'" he explained.  "And when boys do," he continued, "It's called, 'Get a haircut!'"  Greg cracked up.  "That's right.  You tell those hippies," he joked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, Luke has not been wanting to eat green vegetables.  He has tried all manner of evasion, but I was most amused by his "saintly" tactic.  After Greg put some green beans on his plate, he turned to his dad and sweetly said, "Daddy, you can have these green beans if you want.  I don't really like them.  Thank you, though."  Mmm-hmm.  Sweet, but you still have to eat them, buddy:).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing he has been doing is continually asking us what is going to happen tomorrow.  He is very interested in all of our future plans, and he asks about them several times a day.  At one point, Greg got tired of it and said, "We don't need to worry about tomorrow, buddy; we just need to worry about today."  Luke got very serious and responded, "We need to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;worry&lt;/span&gt; about today??"  Oh, for goodness sake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luke is not the only one making us laugh these days.  Anna has been stringing together sentences for a few months now, and it's so funny to hear a one year old put her feelings into words.  It is convenient, because now she can explain why she is upset, and it is also funny, because the reasons that she is upset are such typical one year old reasons.  Once, Greg carried her inside, set her down, and then went to unload some things out of the car.  Well.  She did not take kindly to that and just started squalling.  "What's wrong, Anna?" I asked, even though I had a pretty good guess."  "Daddy &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;put me down&lt;/span&gt;!"  She spat out each word and even bent over and poked the floor for emphasis.  Yep, that's what I figured was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've also had to ban the phrase, "I had it first!" in our house.  Both of them are always saying it in squabbles, even though Anna is clearly fuzzy on the meaning.  So now, no one can say it.  It's annoying, and really, it doesn't matter who had it first when they are both being selfish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though they do have their squabbles, more often than not, they are both sweethearts.  Anna loves to start "fights" with us by saying, "I love &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; more."  When we answer back, "No, I love &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; more," it's on.  Though sometimes she just says it to get us to disagree, and then smiles happily and says, "Yeah."  Like she was just wanting us to confirm that we do, in fact, love her more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then yesterday, it was really cold outside, and I was loading the kids up to go to a play date.  As we pulled out of the driveway, Luke told me earnestly, "Mama, I went outside and touched the leaves, and they were really cold.  I wanted to build a house for them, but I didn't know how."  I had to explain to him that the leaves would be fine, but statements like that just floor me.  What am I supposed to do with that heart?  I feel so unworthy to be a steward of it!  I just pray that God works in spite of all my mistakes and humanity to mold these children into the amazing people He designed them to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then, they will perpetually entertain us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-5870320562607098205?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/5870320562607098205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=5870320562607098205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/5870320562607098205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/5870320562607098205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/rememberies.html' title='Rememberies'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SyPmbpGdyFI/AAAAAAAAGDg/0mk0rCKnxpQ/s72-c/12-10.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-7754976346116445857</id><published>2009-12-10T17:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T17:59:58.924-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Girl's Best Friend</title><content type='html'>I have a confession to make:  I do not understand jewelry.  At all.  Despite my mother's best efforts to get me interested in adornments of all kinds, I don't even wear earrings today.  All I wear are my engagement ring, wedding band, and a cross necklace, and I only wear those because they are outward symbols of deep commitments that I have made.  It's not that I don't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want &lt;/span&gt;to like jewelry.  It's just that I am missing that gene.  The logic of gold and diamonds, especially, makes no sense to me.  The two major characteristics of diamonds are that they are expensive and they are sparkly.  Since I like money and I'm not a crow, neither of those traits really appeal to me.  Thus, when I see jewelry commercials, it is like I am an anthropologist studying a completely different culture.  And apparently, I'm a bad anthropologist, because the culture makes no sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take this commercial I saw a couple nights ago while watching &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Biggest Loser&lt;/span&gt; finale.  A woman is rocking her newborn at 2:00 am when her husband comes downstairs.  She looks up, confused.  "It's two in the morning," she tells him.  "Not just any morning," he replies, "Christmas morning."  And he switches on the lights of the tree.  "I just couldn't wait," he says, and then hands her...some jewelry.  I honestly can't remember what particular jewelry it is because at this point I am yelling at the screen, "She doesn't want &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;jewelry!!  &lt;/span&gt;It's 2:00 am!! She wants to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;go to sleep!!&lt;/span&gt;"  Oh, how I remember those days of sleep deprivation.  When my husband took the baby from me so that I could get some sweet, blissful sleep, he was my personal savior.  If he had instead handed me a ridiculously expensive trinket in the wee hours of the morning, I would have been so peeved.  Do you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know &lt;/span&gt;how many diapers that could buy?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, my husband really likes this about me.  And thankfully, he also fully understands that my love language is not "gifts."  It is "acts of service," which is apparently his forte.  This morning, for example, I was tired and stressed about my disaster of a house.  I was fretting because we're hosting a party tomorrow, and I had stupidly made a childcare commitment that did not allow me to focus on cleaning my house like I needed to.  I could tell that my stress was stressing Greg out, and I felt horrible about that, but I just couldn't get a handle on it.  By the time I got the kids out the door and on to our commitment, I was feeling much better.  Greg was walking out the door himself, to go workout before work.  After my babysitting gig, I saw him at work, and he told me to look in the bathroom when I got home.  "Which bathroom?"  I asked.  "Any of them," he responded proudly.  When I got home, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all three bathrooms were clean.  &lt;/span&gt;CLEAN!!  And they smelled great!  I cried.  Really.  It could have been a commercial.  A commercial for toilet bowl cleaner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I called him, he said, "I thought cleaning bathrooms would be a more productive use of my time than working out."  Do you SEE why I LOVE this man????  Seriously, is he human?  It is truly an amazing experience being married to the best person I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he's just glad he doesn't have to buy me diamonds:).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-7754976346116445857?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/7754976346116445857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=7754976346116445857' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7754976346116445857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7754976346116445857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/girls-best-friend.html' title='A Girl&apos;s Best Friend'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-6348501132263193878</id><published>2009-12-05T21:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T21:49:39.712-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd Annual Gingerbread House Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;After completing all the necessary &lt;a href="http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/gingerbread-party-prep.html"&gt;prep&lt;/a&gt;, it was time for the party to start.&amp;#160; And it went sooooo well!&amp;#160; Unbelievably well.&amp;#160; (I should pray so hard before all my parties!)&amp;#160; My house came through like a champ, even with 55 people inside it (a new record!).&amp;#160; All the kids were amazing.&amp;#160; My two teen volunteers were my heroes (shout out to Lindsey and Olivia!).&amp;#160; The gingerbread houses were adorable.&amp;#160; The adults had a great time talking and helping their kids make the houses.&amp;#160; Good times seemed to be had by all.&amp;#160; And now, the requisite billion pictures:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160; &lt;p&gt;       &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsapF9FT1I/AAAAAAAAGAc/XDTFAl12fxo/s1600-h/IMG_3498%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3498" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsaphe_zrI/AAAAAAAAGAg/9kCNDw4YeW8/IMG_3498_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="263" height="198" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsaqQ9MZHI/AAAAAAAAGAk/RUVKcmBaJas/s1600-h/IMG_2318%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2318" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsaq2wTvyI/AAAAAAAAGAo/0CiqmPtVVzs/IMG_2318_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="260" height="196" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsarYdSmPI/AAAAAAAAGAs/yVClRFD70xw/s1600-h/IMG_2320%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2320" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsar4rw2zI/AAAAAAAAGAw/5AMGg-i87bk/IMG_2320_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="263" height="198" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsaslKizHI/AAAAAAAAGA0/6oigaO9fjZA/s1600-h/IMG_2321%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2321" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsatEjkwtI/AAAAAAAAGA4/jcsv2QMU8aw/IMG_2321_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="269" height="203" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsauAidwHI/AAAAAAAAGA8/yaxiQ8qg2f0/s1600-h/IMG_2322%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2322" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsaugXjlWI/AAAAAAAAGBA/vkDIuKYd-CA/IMG_2322_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="273" height="206" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsavTza0fI/AAAAAAAAGBE/G5QKyoGRheQ/s1600-h/IMG_2323%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2323" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsavhPBzLI/AAAAAAAAGBI/AHewX2uy8cQ/IMG_2323_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="273" height="206" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsawrvI0yI/AAAAAAAAGBM/ZBzox9hQ7fE/s1600-h/IMG_2324%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2324" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsaw_ls7gI/AAAAAAAAGBQ/NAbbb8NgrpI/IMG_2324_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="274" height="206" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsax2JkxjI/AAAAAAAAGBU/BT3Gjl_OeUs/s1600-h/IMG_2325%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2325" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsayTGeDLI/AAAAAAAAGBY/yTUBgo444UA/IMG_2325_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="280" height="211" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsazIfUJtI/AAAAAAAAGBc/LQWSx8Sv6WY/s1600-h/IMG_2330%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2330" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsazr69tcI/AAAAAAAAGBg/Oaq6lAcPaBQ/IMG_2330_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="281" height="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa0nNLhsI/AAAAAAAAGBk/nwnIsXMRq-M/s1600-h/IMG_2349%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2349" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa1DslO5I/AAAAAAAAGBo/TWI9hVwlwA8/IMG_2349_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="280" height="211" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa1y4vMvI/AAAAAAAAGBs/FlUhbu6pohc/s1600-h/IMG_2356%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2356" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa2UInx2I/AAAAAAAAGBw/ch2uRwKndFA/IMG_2356_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="283" height="213" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;       &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa3RETdUI/AAAAAAAAGB0/1mUZXbOMefQ/s1600-h/IMG_2358%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2358" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa3yNDMzI/AAAAAAAAGB4/4SDkchF-zt4/IMG_2358_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="286" height="216" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa4tUj-UI/AAAAAAAAGB8/X6dS2O7cUs8/s1600-h/IMG_2335%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2335" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa5DjchmI/AAAAAAAAGCA/a0aDow3gdwc/IMG_2335_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="289" height="218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa5vnxLhI/AAAAAAAAGCE/y0nnOIUfz3Y/s1600-h/IMG_2336%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_2336" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sxsa6OGKiHI/AAAAAAAAGCI/83mqPoLkDXQ/IMG_2336_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="292" height="220" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Okay, wow.&amp;#160; I have way more cute pictures and am apparently convicted that the world needs to see ALL of them, so the rest will be on my facebook account, probably by tomorrow.&amp;#160; These, I think, will give you a good enough indication of how the party went.&amp;#160; I am already looking forward to next year!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-6348501132263193878?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/6348501132263193878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=6348501132263193878' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/6348501132263193878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/6348501132263193878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/2nd-annual-gingerbread-house-party.html' title='2nd Annual Gingerbread House Party'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-667079789967133874</id><published>2009-12-05T21:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T00:13:21.555-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gingerbread Party Prep</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;This year was our 2nd annual Gingerbread House Party!&amp;#160; I was unbelievably excited about it, which is kind of weird, since hosting big parties does not fit into my personality at all.&amp;#160; Upon reflection, I decided that it was a trait that I got from my mother via osmosis or something.&amp;#160; It definitely was not genetic, but I guess seeing her do it all my life made it seem like a normal thing (despite the fact that my husband repeatedly told me I was on crack throughout the preparation process:)).&amp;#160; This year, we expanded the invites to Anna's class (aka cradle roll) and the class in between them (the 2-3's, as Luke is in the 3-4's).&amp;#160; I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I got RSVP's for 32 gingerbread houses!&amp;#160; 32!&amp;#160; Wow!&amp;#160; Oddly, that made me even more excited (prompting another round of crack-smoking references from Greg, who, really, was totally game for this.&amp;#160; He is a WONDERFUL husband).&amp;#160; So I started the preparations:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWGmuXL5I/AAAAAAAAF_g/2V_cT4ENW8E/s1600-h/IMG_3479%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3479" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWHBYR1GI/AAAAAAAAF_k/9jUFoQCT9Bg/IMG_3479_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="272" height="205" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We went with graham crackers again this year, and will do so indefinitely.&amp;#160; Having read more about real gingerbread houses, I now fully understand that no sane person attempts to make 32 of them at a time.&amp;#160; You can see the milk cartons (purchased from a nearby elementary school) drying in the background.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWH6jd2YI/AAAAAAAAF_o/IJyqqJb0Qto/s1600-h/IMG_3480%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3480" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWIE4mLBI/AAAAAAAAF_s/iRMMaUzSG4Y/IMG_3480_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; On Thursday night, Greg and I assembled the houses.&amp;#160; The graham crackers did not halve into squares, so my triangles were off.&amp;#160; I didn't really care, nor did I know how to fix them.&amp;#160; So the houses looked a little rough before I put the icing around the edges the morning of the party.&amp;#160; Greg referred to them as our &amp;quot;gingerbread lean-to's,&amp;quot; and thus, he described the scene above as a &amp;quot;gingerbread Hooverville.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; (I was like, &amp;quot;O-KAY, I get it!&amp;quot;&amp;#160; But I also thought it was hilarious:)).&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On Friday, I enlisted my children to help.&amp;#160; I am definitely a &amp;quot;work alone&amp;quot; (or with Greg) type person, but the allure of teaching them life skills was too great to resist:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWMFW09TI/AAAAAAAAF_w/SwaAYKeWuUg/s1600-h/IMG_3482%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3482" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWMXh36BI/AAAAAAAAF_0/R7CP2RRwX-I/IMG_3482_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="281" height="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWUt4nWNI/AAAAAAAAF_8/5u9zpr3XkSs/s1600-h/IMG_3483%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3483" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWVAzo5jI/AAAAAAAAGAA/QtBN0Hvro2o/IMG_3483_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="287" height="216" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; There was a lot of sorting and counting going on:).&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The morning of the party also happened to be my birthday, so when I went downstairs at 6:30, there was this:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWVkfKIfI/AAAAAAAAGAE/ASbZM6uIiWc/s1600-h/IMG_3485%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3485" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWWBn_3gI/AAAAAAAAGAI/jeIif7cX96I/IMG_3485_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="280" height="211" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It was a sweet card from my baby, in which he &amp;quot;apologized&amp;quot; for making fun of my &amp;quot;gingerbread shanties.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;After enjoying the card, I completed the prep:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWW6rNXOI/AAAAAAAAGAM/p0Gs5wFvl1E/s1600-h/IMG_3487%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3487" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWXhZUUkI/AAAAAAAAGAQ/k3zyrW498dM/IMG_3487_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="309" height="233" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWYaYaFGI/AAAAAAAAGAU/85fI5F3f5-Q/s1600-h/IMG_3490%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3490" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxsWY2gP1cI/AAAAAAAAGAY/QGfPqGkJTxo/IMG_3490_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="292" height="220" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;My only concern was whether my house could handle the crowd!&amp;#160; Over the three and a half years that I have been a mom, my ever-thinking brain has kind of developed an elaborate philosophy on the role of &amp;quot;home&amp;quot; in the world.&amp;#160; And I always want my home to be an open, welcoming, comforting place.&amp;#160; One of the biggest reasons we picked this house was for its open layout.&amp;#160; I was really hoping (and praying, literally) that its layout, along with Luke and Anna's rooms, would help the party not to be too overwhelming at crowded.&amp;#160; We were about to find out!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-667079789967133874?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/667079789967133874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=667079789967133874' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/667079789967133874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/667079789967133874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/12/gingerbread-party-prep.html' title='Gingerbread Party Prep'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-708315208397199205</id><published>2009-11-30T20:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T21:10:00.830-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Holidays, Part 4:  Kirby Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The day after Thanksgiving, we packed up and headed to North Carolina to see Greg's side of the family.  Because we wouldn't all be able to get together in December, we celebrated Christmas the Saturday after Thanksgiving.  As always, we had so much fun.  Jack and Luke have a ridiculously tight bond for being so young, and Anna thought that Grace and Amelia were the coolest girls in the world:).  And now, the weekend in pictures:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRwyLzqyuI/AAAAAAAAF9U/TiH6RrLEe7E/s1600-h/IMG_3360%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3360" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRwy52SIzI/AAAAAAAAF9Y/r4yZ13_Dqt8/IMG_3360_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="245" width="325" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw0Gmn_kI/AAAAAAAAF9c/2laKjd5d6-o/s1600-h/IMG_3373%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3373" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw1H04RKI/AAAAAAAAF9g/ogXspoGyuyY/IMG_3373_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="245" width="325" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Our attempts to get a picture of all the cousins were predictably disastrous.  *Sigh*  Why is it always my child screaming? (Right now, all my relatives are answering:  "Because it was always YOU screaming in the pictures.  The apples don't fall far from the tree:).")  Regardless, both of them are always happy to fill the "screaming child in group pictures" role, like in this "cousins" pic from Christmas, 2007:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw2R78FhI/AAAAAAAAF9k/OsLCWjdaAMo/s1600-h/DSC00705%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="DSC00705" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw21LRtEI/AAAAAAAAF9o/0kz5rZH0B44/DSC00705_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="224" width="298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Oh, well...moving on:):&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw3jH4SwI/AAAAAAAAF9s/ivcws31ZdyU/s1600-h/IMG_3376%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3376" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw4ZLuWzI/AAAAAAAAF9w/MFzEpE0Bb_4/IMG_3376_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="244" width="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw44tJMfI/AAAAAAAAF90/K7VE6_b_oI0/s1600-h/IMG_3378%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3378" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw5r_rMCI/AAAAAAAAF94/RAqrIyLwKWE/IMG_3378_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="244" width="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw6kUJZaI/AAAAAAAAF98/lq0bNDijPJc/s1600-h/IMG_3379%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3379" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw7CVimQI/AAAAAAAAF-A/b46eggXkJYc/IMG_3379_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="201" width="267" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; When Anna first opened the bassinet and blanket for her baby doll (from Uncle Rob), she decided to try it out herself.  But she soon caught on.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw8MRiXEI/AAAAAAAAF-E/lqHyIP4mFIk/s1600-h/IMG_3387%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3387" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw8wnsS1I/AAAAAAAAF-I/w3L7f2Wi67Q/IMG_3387_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="205" width="272" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRw-H-oj1I/AAAAAAAAF-M/wP_EF1z6J6U/s1600-h/IMG_3394%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3394" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxAulGycI/AAAAAAAAF-Q/py44MKqBj2k/IMG_3394_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="206" width="273" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; All of Anna's gifts were a hit with everyone.  This toy blender (from Uncle Chris and Aunt Jill) is a great example.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxBnSDpAI/AAAAAAAAF-U/p2AebIHa3tg/s1600-h/IMG_3400%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3400" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxCGEV0nI/AAAAAAAAF-Y/ieKv1YB3Qsk/IMG_3400_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="208" width="276" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxDC5oazI/AAAAAAAAF-c/Jox_MRnbu4E/s1600-h/IMG_3405%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3405" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxDi0M69I/AAAAAAAAF-g/cMVCjWSupbY/IMG_3405_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="210" width="279" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Grace and Luke helped Anna open her last present.  She had completely lost interest, and they were still in full present-unwrapping mode.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxEiDW5CI/AAAAAAAAF-k/wUvkcdg0_xI/s1600-h/IMG_3406%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3406" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxFMZbVGI/AAAAAAAAF-o/gvV9jL-wGtQ/IMG_3406_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="215" width="285" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxGEp1K-I/AAAAAAAAF-s/2F1X5EtTYsk/s1600-h/IMG_3427%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3427" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxG07aG5I/AAAAAAAAF-w/4j01TrXKuBo/IMG_3427_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="214" width="284" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The girls (and Gigi) bonded over baby dolls....&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxIFG2bnI/AAAAAAAAF-0/Hk5HS_90XvU/s1600-h/IMG_3428%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3428" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxNoH3Z6I/AAAAAAAAF-8/Zm_vgNJfw0Q/IMG_3428_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="199" width="264" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ...while the boys connected over trains.  They each got a train book from Gigi and Papa, and after finishing up with "Christmas," they quickly headed down to spend some quality time with Papa's trains.  Here they are making a "bridge" over the train:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxOapMf8I/AAAAAAAAF_A/QRQOrZhS9W0/s1600-h/IMG_3432%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3432" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxPA_lB_I/AAAAAAAAF_E/8AgOV3UYKV4/IMG_3432_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="206" width="274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxQCxrsyI/AAAAAAAAF_I/e_UCHOpxTw0/s1600-h/IMG_3433%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3433" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxRxQs-8upI/AAAAAAAAF_M/mrsgi_FVpJQ/IMG_3433_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="207" width="275" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Whew!  What a fun week we had!  We are so blessed with such wonderful friends and family.  Man, we have it good:).  And now...I am caught up on blogging!&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-708315208397199205?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/708315208397199205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=708315208397199205' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/708315208397199205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/708315208397199205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/11/holidays-part-4-kirby-christmas.html' title='The Holidays, Part 4:  Kirby Christmas'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-8082127156121681333</id><published>2009-11-30T14:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T14:43:49.019-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Holidays, Part 3:  Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;em&gt;[I went back and counted, and there are 27 million pictures in this post.  Consider yourself warned:).]&lt;/em&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;     &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This year, my family (including my parents) spent Thanksgiving with our friends, the Noe's, the Prettymans, and the Turnbulls.  As I'm sure I've mentioned before, the Noe's are extremely good friends of our family and have been ever since their daughter, Amanda, dated my brother, Mike, while they were both in high school.  Amanda eventually married Stephen Prettyman, and we love him and his family also.  So, for those trying to keep track at home, we spent Thanksgiving with my deceased brother's ex-girlfriend's eventual husband's extended family.  I love how God works.  You never see it coming:).&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;The Noe/Prettyman Thanksgiving tradition has evolved into a pretty elaborate affair in the few years since Amanda and Stephen's marriage, and it was a lot of fun to be a part of it.  Most importantly, there was a lot of food:&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfQwshgqI/AAAAAAAAF7Q/ZRVhW8yx_yE/s1600-h/IMG_3272%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3272" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfRWX-WPI/AAAAAAAAF7U/sZ5I6CmFghA/IMG_3272_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="244" width="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfSSh3p4I/AAAAAAAAF7Y/ggq247Cpaiw/s1600-h/IMG_3289%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3289" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfSvR--wI/AAAAAAAAF7c/RznL7ZCd_18/IMG_3289_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="184" width="244" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The Noe's also busted out their chocolate fountain from Amanda's wedding.  Do you see why we love them?:)&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;There were also a lot of kids:&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfT7XzGII/AAAAAAAAF7g/MgpndPS2HAI/s1600-h/IMG_3257%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3257" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfUkaGf_I/AAAAAAAAF7k/K8jtpcfig_k/IMG_3257_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="217" width="288" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;And a lot of adults, too:&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfVUvCnNI/AAAAAAAAF7o/qAvlH4bRVZ8/s1600-h/IMG_3292%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3292" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfV7ojtNI/AAAAAAAAF7s/YRT6Wi7t5Xo/IMG_3292_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="227" width="301" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This picture was taken from the center of the "L" shape of the table.  There is a whole other wing to the right.  The Prettymans (sitting nearest in the picture) have five children, so it's a big family.  And this big family likes to play games and plan activities.  For example, they had a scavenger hunt for the kids.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfWiPHMdI/AAAAAAAAF7w/jKfGwGH4S9I/s1600-h/IMG_3298%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3298" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfXBiwhTI/AAAAAAAAF70/I6r9zH_ay1k/IMG_3298_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="219" width="291" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Luke's team.  He was by far the youngest participant, and he spent most of the time trying to track down/keep up with his own teammates:).  But he did find one clue himself:&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfYMlZMwI/AAAAAAAAF74/3NdKp8_J2Os/s1600-h/IMG_3300%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3300" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfYnROZaI/AAAAAAAAF78/7pHUS5Nqod0/IMG_3300_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="209" width="277" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfZ7FTt7I/AAAAAAAAF8A/FQdxaRNuIhA/s1600-h/IMG_3303%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3303" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfafG54hI/AAAAAAAAF8E/-OVM_lJxd7M/IMG_3303_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="218" width="289" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; In the end, both teams found their &lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfblLd-LI/AAAAAAAAF8I/19eWC8PsSRA/s1600-h/IMG_3308%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfblLd-LI/AAAAAAAAF8I/19eWC8PsSRA/s1600-h/IMG_3308%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfblLd-LI/AAAAAAAAF8I/19eWC8PsSRA/s1600-h/IMG_3308%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;prizes:&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfblLd-LI/AAAAAAAAF8I/19eWC8PsSRA/s1600-h/IMG_3308%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfblLd-LI/AAAAAAAAF8I/19eWC8PsSRA/s1600-h/IMG_3308%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfblLd-LI/AAAAAAAAF8I/19eWC8PsSRA/s1600-h/IMG_3308%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfdYK_DPI/AAAAAAAAF8M/8C9Y2APa6kE/s1600-h/IMG_3308%5B6%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3308" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfd5D0HtI/AAAAAAAAF8Q/IvzBbr3RKdE/IMG_3308_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="209" width="277" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p&gt;Next, it was off to a hayride at our church's property, the campground where I used to live:&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfe0qzxcI/AAAAAAAAF8U/7z2uNRnFPFg/s1600-h/IMG_3312%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3312" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQffVuYe4I/AAAAAAAAF8Y/2jkjLAulItk/IMG_3312_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="203" width="269" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfgQpLDmI/AAAAAAAAF8c/4YG9uIDzlSU/s1600-h/IMG_3315%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3315" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfg5jBfDI/AAAAAAAAF8g/PRPJNXMLaBk/IMG_3315_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="204" width="271" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfh0lHe0I/AAAAAAAAF8k/xvdeqVtKVa4/s1600-h/IMG_3320%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3320" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfijj9p5I/AAAAAAAAF8o/luGTIaDYz3s/IMG_3320_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="203" width="269" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;         &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfjaUC5pI/AAAAAAAAF8s/yPFoOhiBU3M/s1600-h/IMG_3332%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3332" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfjq1j54I/AAAAAAAAF8w/vAn5Cw04smY/IMG_3332_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="257" width="194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Leaning against Mr. Noe.&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfnuuMiKI/AAAAAAAAF80/kE_zrE63hSQ/s1600-h/IMG_3334%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3334" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfoLGH5FI/AAAAAAAAF84/omwnLNV8cVM/IMG_3334_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="184" width="244" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p&gt;         &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Whew, is this day still going?  Yes, it is.  After the hayride, we went back to the Noe's for pumpkin carving...&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfoqwKfSI/AAAAAAAAF88/FAs8Rd71aE0/s1600-h/IMG_3343%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3343" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfpOmoVeI/AAAAAAAAF9A/ppV4-DNT0rQ/IMG_3343_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="184" width="244" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p&gt;...and singing.&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfpwMEz9I/AAAAAAAAF9E/knr6mEfKnfs/s1600-h/IMG_3345%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3345" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfqX3cSSI/AAAAAAAAF9I/Av_lkHySQvM/IMG_3345_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="227" width="301" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The Prettymans are a "worship pastor" family (the dad, two sons, and a son-in-law are all worship pastors), so in addition to being amazingly nice, they are also very musically inclined.  And we are, um, a Church of Christ family, which means we like to sing, &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; we own our own collection of hymnals.  So it worked out.  We taught them "The Greatest Commands," and they saw our "Greatest Commands" and raised us one "Hallelujah Chorus."  Wow.  Both sounded incredible in a room full of such talented people. &lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; So, it was a good Thanksgiving.  Still oddly emotional b/c of Mike, but a good day nonetheless.  I could not have picked better people to spend it with.&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfrpD4XVI/AAAAAAAAF9M/ODbnvEddvEc/s1600-h/IMG_3287%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border: 0px none ;" alt="IMG_3287" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQfsGKe74I/AAAAAAAAF9Q/5ZWLjgF6ny0/IMG_3287_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" border="0" height="224" width="298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-8082127156121681333?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/8082127156121681333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=8082127156121681333' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/8082127156121681333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/8082127156121681333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/11/holidays-part-3-thanksgiving.html' title='The Holidays, Part 3:  Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-7661105751715089433</id><published>2009-11-30T14:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T14:00:37.687-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Holidays, Part 2:  Fun with Granddaddy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;Some of my kids' favorite time at their grandparents' house is spent jumping and rolling around on their bed.&amp;#160; Usually, there is at least one grandparent there to join in the fun.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWP1MEw3I/AAAAAAAAF6o/HnKv3igueYA/s1600-h/IMG_3198%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3198" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWQZPfnEI/AAAAAAAAF6s/zopWZy9ku8w/IMG_3198_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="278" height="210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWRBgn2WI/AAAAAAAAF6w/7W6QrgK-Mm8/s1600-h/IMG_3199%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3199" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWRgIRzPI/AAAAAAAAF60/sfcJhZhNvqE/IMG_3199_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="282" height="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWST3QfUI/AAAAAAAAF64/K8uuCQ0iO24/s1600-h/IMG_3206%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3206" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWS96caBI/AAAAAAAAF68/WPScx5Maroc/IMG_3206_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" height="214" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWTYo05FI/AAAAAAAAF7A/J8eyjjgn7_8/s1600-h/IMG_3214%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3214" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWTzOkENI/AAAAAAAAF7E/BxSHzBUAJ_8/IMG_3214_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="282" height="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWU9At1sI/AAAAAAAAF7I/ulohkAQ1Fao/s1600-h/IMG_3223%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3223" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxQWVLDr5tI/AAAAAAAAF7M/JW0dIaBGzrI/IMG_3223_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" height="214" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-7661105751715089433?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/7661105751715089433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=7661105751715089433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7661105751715089433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/7661105751715089433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/11/holidays-part-2-fun-with-granddaddy.html' title='The Holidays, Part 2:  Fun with Granddaddy'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-2592831143506938969</id><published>2009-11-29T21:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T21:44:31.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Holidays, Part 1:  Christmas Confession</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I have a vivid memory of Mike and me at Lipscomb University the week before Easter.&amp;#160; He was a Freshman, and I was a Junior.&amp;#160; Because we are spoiled rotten, my mom still sent us big Easter baskets in the mail while we were at college.&amp;#160; Of course, she sent it a few days early, so we would have it to open on Easter Sunday.&amp;#160; Thus, our baskets arrived on the Thursday or Friday before.&amp;#160; The previous two years, I would take my Easter basket back to my room, not even opening the box it came in until Easter.&amp;#160; So I was shocked--SHOCKED--when Mike took his Easter basket box from the postal worker, walked right into the adjoining student center, and started tearing into it.&amp;#160; I stood paralyzed, mouth agape, until I could find the words.&amp;#160; &amp;quot;Mike!&amp;#160; What are you &lt;em&gt;doing??!!&amp;quot;&lt;/em&gt;&amp;#160; Mike looked at me, surprised.&amp;#160; &amp;quot;You can't open your Easter basket!&amp;quot; I exclaimed. &amp;quot;It's not EASTER!&amp;quot;&amp;#160; At that point, Mike smiled calmly, got up, walked over to me, put his hands on my shoulders, and said in mock earnestness, &amp;quot;Kim.&amp;#160; You're free.&amp;#160; You're &lt;em&gt;free.&amp;quot;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;He was mocking, of course, my strict adherence to rules of all kinds, including holiday rules.&amp;#160; Like, you open your Easter basket on Easter.&amp;#160; And you don't set up Christmas decorations until the day after Thanksgiving (or, at most, three days after Thanksgiving.&amp;#160; You have the weekend:)).&amp;#160; I thought of this memory several times as I succumbed to Luke's pleas and put up the Christmas decorations the Thursday and Friday &lt;em&gt;before&lt;/em&gt; Thanksgiving.&amp;#160; He was so excited, and it made sense to our family, since we were going to be out of town the whole week of Thanksgiving, coming back tonight (Sunday) to start a busy week.&amp;#160; It was wonderful to come home to Christmas decorations.&amp;#160; Even though it did break &amp;quot;the rules.&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I must say that having the kids participate in the process was a &lt;em&gt;huge&lt;/em&gt; help.&amp;#160; For one thing, they helped me haul the boxes down the stairs:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMw371AUMI/AAAAAAAAF4Q/fbbe4GaziKc/s1600-h/IMG_3123%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3123" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMw4TJVOqI/AAAAAAAAF4U/yIKs3Puaq5E/IMG_3123_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="224" height="297" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;They helped me get out the ornaments:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMw5dkqKeI/AAAAAAAAF4Y/5kS08S5scOs/s1600-h/IMG_3160%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3160" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMw57R_ayI/AAAAAAAAF4c/5Zg97VnPn1s/IMG_3160_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="292" height="220" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;And unload the rest of the decorations:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMw6yIeH5I/AAAAAAAAF4g/Stpsmbtcl6c/s1600-h/IMG_3166%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3166" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMw7cl3VAI/AAAAAAAAF4k/x_9DuPgh5qw/IMG_3166_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="281" height="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;And hang the ornaments:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMw8OQ8xMI/AAAAAAAAF4o/2I1gSPlFCro/s1600-h/IMG_3167%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3167" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMw8nPB_OI/AAAAAAAAF4s/JycRMiu6XDM/IMG_3167_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="282" height="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMxE82-FNI/AAAAAAAAF40/hJL28luLdWk/s1600-h/IMG_3169%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3169" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMxFBWn7GI/AAAAAAAAF44/JdvRDRsrUsE/IMG_3169_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="280" height="211" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; After years of being neglected, the bottom of the tree finally got its due!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;They helped me put the Christmas sheets on the bed:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMxggM60lI/AAAAAAAAF5A/3K75W4Q8J4o/s1600-h/IMG_3153%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3153" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMxhDuTcbI/AAAAAAAAF5E/oPBxJyeO2Yc/IMG_3153_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="208" height="276" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;And they thought the whole process was loads of fun:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMxhzm3xXI/AAAAAAAAF5I/YLvsAp_51XM/s1600-h/IMG_3138%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3138" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMxifakK5I/AAAAAAAAF5M/hJTVpyn9HfI/IMG_3138_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMxi-swLqI/AAAAAAAAF5Q/9CMeAcsDWHo/s1600-h/IMG_3172%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3172" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SxMxje5jg8I/AAAAAAAAF5U/yL9Mh9DtMrQ/IMG_3172_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="197" height="261" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And now, we're all finished!&amp;#160; Let the holidays begin!  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-2592831143506938969?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/2592831143506938969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=2592831143506938969' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/2592831143506938969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/2592831143506938969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/11/holidays-part-1-christmas-confession.html' title='The Holidays, Part 1:  Christmas Confession'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-8509813150356964246</id><published>2009-11-18T15:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T15:53:42.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>On most mornings, we ask Luke what he dreamed about.  He always says the same thing:  "Trains."  I don't think he has dreamt about trains every night of his life.  I'm not sure he understands what dreams are, despite our attempts at explanations.  Either that, or he doesn't remember his dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day after Anna woke up from her nap, I asked her if she dreamed.  She immediately responded, "Yeah."  Since that's what she responds to everything, I asked her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what &lt;/span&gt;she dreamed about.  She paused.  "Ganddad."  "You dreamed about Granddaddy?"  "Yeah."  Aw, that's nice.  We were silent for awhile while I played with her hair.  Then she said, "Ganddad fish."  "You dreamed that Granddaddy was fishing?"  "Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm.  That was interesting.  But the next time we asked what she dreamed about, she again responded, "Ganddad."  "Were you and Granddad fishing?"  "Yeah."  "Were you out on the lake?"  "Yeah."  "Were you in the pool?"  "Yeah."  "Were you in the house?"  "Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, hmmmm.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the "dreaming" has continued.  Yesterday morning, I asked what she dreamed about.  She immediately answered, "Hop."  "Hop" is one of her classmates at church.  Most other people call her "Hope." :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then this morning, she &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;volunteered&lt;/span&gt; her dream, before I even asked.  Out of nowhere, she said, "I jeamed bout Miss Lindsey, Mama."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.  I don't know what is weirder:  that my not-quite-two year old daughter remembers and relays her dreams to me, or that she remembers to make up what she dreamed about.  Both possibilities baffle me:).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-8509813150356964246?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/8509813150356964246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=8509813150356964246' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/8509813150356964246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/8509813150356964246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/11/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-6949597802614072359</id><published>2009-11-15T15:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T15:05:26.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Project Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Anyone who I talk to on even a casual basis probably knows that I am doing a scrapbook called Project 365 this year.&amp;#160; I even blogged about it &lt;a href="http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/01/project-365.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;And now, as the year is rapidly drawing to a close, I have to gush about how much I have LOVED Project 365.&amp;#160; It was work to take a picture every day, but it does get easier once you are in the habit.&amp;#160; I only missed five days, and each day, I was able to go back and take a picture of something representative of that day.&amp;#160; For instance, I forgot to take a picture one day when Anna was sick all day with a mystery fever.&amp;#160; Well, the next day, I just took a&amp;#160; picture of the Tylenol and Motrin that we had been alternating throughout the day.&amp;#160; And that was my picture for the day before.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Project 365 is the easiest &amp;quot;scrapbooking&amp;quot; I have ever done.&amp;#160; In fact, I can hardly call it scrapbooking, though I do have a scrapbook to show for my efforts.&amp;#160; Here is what it looks like:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SwBe90FhR6I/AAAAAAAAF2w/XonFO1r5ozg/s1600-h/IMG_30612.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3061" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SwBe-DNH_DI/AAAAAAAAF20/Ay7G-5N7qrg/IMG_3061_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;And here is a sample layout from a week in June:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SwBe-wKSleI/AAAAAAAAF24/FZ60XlMo1Dk/s1600-h/IMG_30622.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3062" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SwBe_Y7YiMI/AAAAAAAAF28/FQnTkik7v-g/IMG_3062_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SwBfALk-32I/AAAAAAAAF3A/7m2QOvdKBCg/s1600-h/IMG_30632.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3063" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SwBfAW6AE1I/AAAAAAAAF3E/n3XRG1F-Ixs/IMG_3063_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SwBfBEZRPiI/AAAAAAAAF3I/Dh8T7Kb9dyU/s1600-h/IMG_30642.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3064" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/SwBfBnHCtfI/AAAAAAAAF3M/wdW6L2K5xPI/IMG_3064_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The convenience of it is one of the things I love most about this scrapbook.&amp;#160; The other thing I love most is that &lt;em&gt;it tells about our lives&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;#160; I mean, REALLY tells about our lives.&amp;#160; I have been a scrapbooker since high school.&amp;#160; I have scrapbooked wonderful baby books for the kids, and one &amp;quot;family scrapbook&amp;quot; that picks up where Luke's baby book ends and continues a year and half, up to where Project 365 starts.&amp;#160; I put a lot of time into that 2007-08 family scrapbook.&amp;#160; And now, when I look back, I realize that I still don't have a great idea of what our life was like then.&amp;#160; Oh, don't get me wrong.&amp;#160; I see all of the holidays and birthdays we celebrated.&amp;#160; I see the trips we took.&amp;#160; And there are some wonderful pictures from those events.&amp;#160; But I have no memory, and no record (other than my blog, of course) of day to day life during that time period.&amp;#160; And since I'm a &lt;a href="http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/03/why-i-blog-and-scrapbook.html"&gt;historian&lt;/a&gt;, as opposed to an artist, that bothers me.&amp;#160; I want to record the blessings of my family's days.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;THIS year, in 2009, I know what happened.&amp;#160; I know what life was like.&amp;#160; I know what parks we went to and when my kids got sick and when Gaga visited.&amp;#160; I know our schedule and when we struggled with nap times.&amp;#160; I know when Luke took swim lessons, and when he started preschool, and when he played soccer.&amp;#160; I know when we had good days and bad days.&amp;#160; I know how my kids changed every day.&amp;#160; I know about the phase where Luke always had to wave goodbye to whoever left, and about the time he walked into preschool with no shoes and the teacher had to call us.&amp;#160; I have pictures of his different train layouts.&amp;#160; I will remember the car carts we got at Publix and the cute dresses Anna wore to church and my first experience teaching 2-3 year olds at church.&amp;#160; I will remember because I have pictures.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I have pictures of every time we saw Uncle Mike before he died.&amp;#160; I have a picture of him and Luke holding the lizards they caught together, Luke's first lizard-catching experience.&amp;#160; I have a picture of him and Luke in the attic, where Uncle Mike had hidden a &amp;quot;treasure map&amp;quot; for him.&amp;#160; I have a picture of him lying on the floor with Luke stacking up blocks.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I have a picture of every day, and that is amazing.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;quot;Okay,&amp;quot; you might be asking, &amp;quot;What does this have to do with me?&amp;quot;&amp;#160; Well, I'll tell you.&amp;#160; The woman who designed Project 365 has designed another scrapbook called, &amp;quot;Project Life.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; It is very similar in concept except that it is much more flexible.&amp;#160; You can easily do the picture-a-day route with this new kit, OR you can be looser.&amp;#160; I must say, I am SO glad that I did Project 365, but I can't aim for a picture a day again.&amp;#160; It is just too much.&amp;#160; BUT I love that I am taking pictures regularly instead of just once or twice a month.&amp;#160; So I think I'm going to do a spread for the week, just like I did with P365, but this time, I might have all pictures from one or two days.&amp;#160; Just 7 pictures a week, not one pic a day.&amp;#160; Believe me, that is a BIG difference.&amp;#160; And it will help when I get a bunch of really cute photos one day, but nothing for the next two.&amp;#160; With P365, so many cute photos fell by the wayside, because I didn't have enough room.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Project Life just went on sale, and it is less than $40.&amp;#160; Since my finished Creative Memories scrapbooks have cost around $150 (once you buy the album, the pages, the protectors, and the yearly kit), I view that as an amazing deal.&amp;#160; Plus, you don't have to actually &amp;quot;scrap,&amp;quot; and yet, you have a beautiful album at the end.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; So that's my commercial for Project Life (and I didn't even get paid!).&amp;#160; You can read all about it for yourself &lt;a href="http://www.beckyhiggins.com/projectlife/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.    &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-6949597802614072359?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/6949597802614072359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=6949597802614072359' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/6949597802614072359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/6949597802614072359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/11/project-life.html' title='Project Life'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-2856673804784688290</id><published>2009-11-14T13:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T13:02:02.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lazy Saturday</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;Okay, this morning wasn't very lazy because Greg had a flag football game at 8:00 (8:00!!!&amp;#160; WHAT were they thinking?!), and Luke had a soccer game at 9:00.&amp;#160; But now that they are over, we have a totally clear day.&amp;#160; The teen's soccer game that Greg was supposed to go to was rescheduled for last night, so now we have total freedom.&amp;#160; And I think we are going to putter it away at home:).&amp;#160; As an example of our puttering, Greg took some pictures of the kids sharing Anna's rocking chair.&amp;#160; The room is a mess, and Luke is wearing the remnants of his soccer uniform (having ditched the jersey and socks), but the faces are priceless:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7weLuwhRI/AAAAAAAAF14/7CP-he3IzAA/s1600-h/IMG_3051%5B10%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3051" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wedupkFI/AAAAAAAAF18/mIZ-JVS9ufw/IMG_3051_thumb%5B6%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt; The standard, &amp;quot;Cheese.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; With Project 365, my kids are so very used to getting their picture taken.&amp;#160; Can you feel their enthusiasm?&amp;#160; Well, Greg decided to try to make them laugh.&amp;#160; See if you can guess what he did:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wexwXsUI/AAAAAAAAF2A/p1pEcX3hALs/s1600-h/IMG_3055%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3055" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wfNUta3I/AAAAAAAAF2E/k-GbFxa0om8/IMG_3055_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="230" height="305" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wfj9WiHI/AAAAAAAAF2I/7ssFCDRk1sw/s1600-h/IMG_3056%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3056" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wgDgwE1I/AAAAAAAAF2M/N2QPt2swpao/IMG_3056_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="219" height="291" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wk2rZBzI/AAAAAAAAF2U/UCVoaCwyEhQ/s1600-h/IMG_3057%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3059" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wlM4P1NI/AAAAAAAAF2Y/A0nH8c4AGI0/IMG_3059_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="309" height="233" /&gt; &lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3057" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wlj-k81I/AAAAAAAAF2c/aD-5C3Z5d2E/IMG_3057_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="232" height="308" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wmEPjEeI/AAAAAAAAF2g/TbRFzPaoCYw/s1600-h/IMG_3060%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_3060" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Sv7wmi5YOPI/AAAAAAAAF2k/cYwZeAFjm_8/IMG_3060_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="296" height="223" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-2856673804784688290?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/2856673804784688290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=2856673804784688290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/2856673804784688290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/2856673804784688290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/11/lazy-saturday.html' title='Lazy Saturday'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27609652.post-993788993729666899</id><published>2009-11-14T12:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T12:47:10.544-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Man of the House</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;With youth ministry, Greg is gone many evenings around dinner and bath time.&amp;#160; Apparently, Luke has noticed the absence of a strong male figure in the house at those times and has decided to stand in the gap:).&amp;#160; The benefit is that Anna always has two parents around, even when Greg's not here!&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;For instance, last night at dinner, Anna was sitting across from me, and Luke was sitting between us at our round table.&amp;#160; Anna dropped her fork on the ground, and I sighed.&amp;#160; &amp;quot;It's okay!&amp;#160; I'll get it&amp;quot; Luke said immediately.&amp;#160; &amp;quot;Well,&amp;quot; I responded, &amp;quot;I'm going to get her a clean one, because I don't want her eating off the floor.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; &amp;quot;Okay, I'll get her one from the drawer,&amp;quot; Luke volunteered.&amp;#160; Then he turned to Anna, and in his best parent voice said, &amp;quot;Anna, I'm only getting you &lt;em&gt;one&lt;/em&gt; other fork, so &lt;em&gt;don't &lt;/em&gt;drop it.&amp;#160; If you drop this one...[he thought about possible consequences]...you'll have to eat with a spoon!&amp;quot;&amp;#160; &amp;quot;Yeah!&amp;quot;&amp;#160; Anna dutifully responded.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;So Luke got up and got her a fork.&amp;#160; A few minutes later, it went clanging to the ground.&amp;#160; Luke looked at me, exasperated.&amp;#160; He sighed. &amp;quot;I'm getting her a spoon.&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;Later that night in the bath tub, Anna bonked him on the head with a drumstick (musical bath toys...who knew?).&amp;#160; It wasn't a very hard hit, but Luke matter-of-factly took the drumstick from her and lightly bonked her back.&amp;#160; Then he ducked down to make eye contact and said, &amp;quot;Do you see how that feels, Anna?&amp;#160; That's what you did to me.&amp;#160; Don't do that--it hurts!&amp;quot;&amp;#160; (I may or may not be known to employ that tactic sometimes with the kids, especially when Luke does something to Anna.)&amp;#160; He explained it all very patiently and clearly, and Anna wasn't a bit bothered.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; Then, when I was rocking Anna, Luke brought her a doll and a plastic toy.&amp;#160; I let Anna keep the doll, but handed Luke back the plastic toy, explaining that I didn't want her to take it in the crib with her.&amp;#160; &amp;quot;Oh,&amp;quot; he said, frowning thoughtfully, &amp;quot;I was going to let her have it in the crib.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; Well, thanks, Dad, but I'll have to overrule you on this one:).    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;Along those lines, a couple weeks ago, I gave Luke an apple in the car and then ran back in to get the kids some water.&amp;#160; When I came back out, Luke informed me that &amp;quot;I am turning my ears off to 'apple'.&amp;quot;&amp;#160; Turning our ears off to whining or to certain requests is another technique Greg and I employ on occasion.&amp;#160; &amp;quot;Oh, really?&amp;quot;&amp;#160; I asked.&amp;#160; &amp;quot;Why?&amp;quot;&amp;#160; He responded, &amp;quot;Because Anna keeps saying, &amp;quot;Apple!&amp;#160; Apple!&amp;quot;&amp;#160; He looked at me, flustered.&amp;#160; &amp;quot;I think she thinks that this is &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; apple!&amp;quot;&amp;#160; So then, of course, I had to run back in and slice Anna an apple:).&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; Lucky Anna.&amp;#160; Not every kid has &lt;em&gt;three&lt;/em&gt; parents at home!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27609652-993788993729666899?l=bitonline.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/feeds/993788993729666899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27609652&amp;postID=993788993729666899' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/993788993729666899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27609652/posts/default/993788993729666899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitonline.blogspot.com/2009/11/man-of-house.html' title='Man of the House'/><author><name>Greg and Kim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03705061720552592112</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09989707415965230494'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry></feed>