tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66146633561077296812023-11-16T08:37:19.343-05:00sandberggirlssandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-53064341756420762872010-01-12T17:13:00.002-05:002010-01-12T17:40:54.715-05:00Missing their PapaMy dad is my children's "Papa". They love their Papa! He does all the funny things with them that he used to do with my sister and I when we were kids.<div><br /></div><div>My dad never ran out of songs to sing in the car. He'd break out his best singing voice for "Five Little Speckled Frogs" or "On Top of Spaghetti". We never needed HD radio when the three of us were in the truck. We always rode in style, and in tune to our favorite kids songs.</div><div><br /></div><div>My dad was a master magician. He could make coins come out of our ears and buckeye nuts disappear quick-as-a-wink. He could even pull your nose right off of your face between his two fingers. He'll show you, too, just ask him.</div><div><br /></div><div>My dad's "selective hearing" has always made him the funniest guy in town. He'd recount a story he'd heard at the bowling alley with not even one correct piece of information. When we told him we had got "new shoes", he asked to see which one was our "loose tooth". He was totally serious, but we'd double over laughing at what made no sense at all.</div><div><br /></div><div>My dad's idea of fun was going to the park for the evening, spending time with his mother (love you grandma!), gushing about my mom's good cooking while he finished off his second plate, and cheering us on at every sporting event we participated in.</div><div><br /></div><div>He's such a great dad. And a great Papa, too! Which is why my girls miss him so much.</div><div><br /></div><div>So much, in fact, that they've taken up acting like him... which can be scary, at times (in a silly way, of course).</div><div><br /></div><div>Like the other day: Audrey and I had mixed up some muffins, and put them in the oven while we ate dinner. The oven beeped, JJ pulled the muffins out of the oven, and tipped the muffin pan towards the table for all to see. "Lookie," he said. "Ohhhh," we replied. When Mallory had cleaned her plate, she said, "I'm ready for a cookie." We all looked at each other strangely. Where on earth did she come up with that? "Lookie", "cookie". Oh boy! Looks like Papa's genes are running through her blood. Wasn't she sad to learn there were no cookies!</div><div><br /></div><div>And on the very same day: The girls and I went to the grocery store (don't try this on your own... ever) and on the way home. I hear this conversation in the back of the car:</div><div>Audrey: "Look Mallory."</div><div>Mallory: "What is it?"</div><div>Audrey: "It's your nose. I got it in my fingers. See?"</div><div>Mallory: "Where is it?"</div><div>Audrey: "Right hear. See? I got your nose."</div><div>I just laughed to myself, and remember when I was two and my sister was four. I'm sure my dad had taught that to us by that age, too. And, in a funny way, I'm glad my kids know that trick! In fact, I hope they can learn many more silly tricks from their Papa.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, that's right, my kids love their Papa. They miss their Papa. And more and more lately, they act like their Papa.</div>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-69903828803830748572009-10-07T15:33:00.010-04:002009-10-07T16:05:23.208-04:00Hindsight is 20/20<div style="text-align: center;">Had I known <i>this</i> would happen...</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBNZTMWHGMEnjnq9RY3awLil_8vTFnl5gUXXu6t5YxckcH3VwLPCgmOU1HPmkw5Va9HhECj6-nuhv_gtyZP3mZGh75LB59OucfK1Y-76frqRxuVHkgCcnSxuZsXR5AvuLpO7AOYeApfbq/s1600-h/image1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 169px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBNZTMWHGMEnjnq9RY3awLil_8vTFnl5gUXXu6t5YxckcH3VwLPCgmOU1HPmkw5Va9HhECj6-nuhv_gtyZP3mZGh75LB59OucfK1Y-76frqRxuVHkgCcnSxuZsXR5AvuLpO7AOYeApfbq/s320/image1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389947072585062754" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I would <i>not</i> have left my then-two-year-old alone with her BFF</div><div style="text-align: center;">while the mommies watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcd45KS8RinXb6ltH963vNvZ39Z8k6bCf1Ky48pHKGXpdaj_HeMN5AiWriHOcgEoMIb5e_6JJ_AKSaszZ33AyP4xBfMd5-fsOSaVpdrEfGY7p_bhOS7Vg9iGYr_hCV5DI3_JeFymyNkSXC/s1600-h/image.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcd45KS8RinXb6ltH963vNvZ39Z8k6bCf1Ky48pHKGXpdaj_HeMN5AiWriHOcgEoMIb5e_6JJ_AKSaszZ33AyP4xBfMd5-fsOSaVpdrEfGY7p_bhOS7Vg9iGYr_hCV5DI3_JeFymyNkSXC/s320/image.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389946829108636802" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Yeah...I know!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So instead of mommy-movie-time...</div><div style="text-align: center;">one mommy did <i>this</i>...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6X_z-Am27fExTs8oIvFBJ6pg3Epnf2NRQcWwg0og6Ocqy-ChnKf8Eo0adU32teEXfC8kiZ5ZUgY_yeeo-zuL0LdBf2W1JE5K5xWHClMMkwuy4KmlHc3bMG_JKlROh36CmJxszxJ5PI622/s1600-h/image5.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6X_z-Am27fExTs8oIvFBJ6pg3Epnf2NRQcWwg0og6Ocqy-ChnKf8Eo0adU32teEXfC8kiZ5ZUgY_yeeo-zuL0LdBf2W1JE5K5xWHClMMkwuy4KmlHc3bMG_JKlROh36CmJxszxJ5PI622/s320/image5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389950969734302226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMxCwQdhExGXbl4yniF5L4_t3s9yMkqrghiApVhMTeAC3RqBuh9OfE4NDo_eJGUhaXICVhvRJ55k1MCLohjXR6_ZC6YFOq0RZejOMgZcOdcyMCLryN3am9fK94y33boLLc9JQiuUsrk90/s1600-h/image4.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMxCwQdhExGXbl4yniF5L4_t3s9yMkqrghiApVhMTeAC3RqBuh9OfE4NDo_eJGUhaXICVhvRJ55k1MCLohjXR6_ZC6YFOq0RZejOMgZcOdcyMCLryN3am9fK94y33boLLc9JQiuUsrk90/s320/image4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389950565185475458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 299px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">while the other mommy (me) got to clean up <i>these</i>...</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhLxjInf_Lyaj2a7w84HHZ01scOFYg60vyaLp-f448Vo-Y931BZksHJwYKvF_Ebtgr4eRSLlRIBa17B_pbrfrkTM7er5kQy7pBLUFaolto2LhI3ZI1BZX7AffhB4c1LFVEcOjEDKszuaV/s1600-h/image3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhLxjInf_Lyaj2a7w84HHZ01scOFYg60vyaLp-f448Vo-Y931BZksHJwYKvF_Ebtgr4eRSLlRIBa17B_pbrfrkTM7er5kQy7pBLUFaolto2LhI3ZI1BZX7AffhB4c1LFVEcOjEDKszuaV/s320/image3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389946700376656866" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Good Gravy! Why is <i>my</i> daughter <i>covered</i> in paint?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Thank you, Crayola, for making your paint washable. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Because hindsight... is 20/20.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Missy</i></span></span></span></div>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-32694411060770443922009-09-17T15:43:00.010-04:002009-09-17T16:34:16.326-04:00Catching Up in Pictures<div style="text-align: left;">Wow! Back to school has me so busy. I hardly have time to post anymore. So, I have a lot of catching up to do.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Audrey started PreK. Don't call it preschool, or she'll correct you. She loves her new teachers, her new room, and her new class has three toads named after the Jonas brothers. She told me last week they were looking for another toad to name Frankie?!? Sometimes I just don't ask. Last week, she was the weather girl in her class. She made us watch the weather channel in the evenings, so she would know what to tell her class. That channel is extremely boring, but I was all smiles at my budding researcher. There was also a lot of fog that week, so the whole class talked about what fog was.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Mallory moved up to the older toddler class. She has buddied up with a little girl and they cause all sorts of havoc. Last week, I picked her up the teacher said, "If you are wondering why her hands are purple, it's because she kept putting them in the stamp pads." Yesterday it was, "I was just changing another friend's diaper when Mallory and (aforementioned buddy) decided to get the paint out. That's why she's in new clothes. Sorry!" Mallory Kathleen!!! I have no idea where she learned to get paint out on her own. None of you readers have seen the pictures from Audrey's paint exploration days, right?? That's a whole blog post in itself. Oh well, thank</div><div> goddness our money allows them to paint at school and not at home, so these mishaps are not on our watch or our carpet/furniture/walls.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Moving on... Audrey is playing soccer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJi9v9T6k0tsSchWZW46-Y-DuZ5cwilpHuon-w8NwEztNYNfv4jLX0ObnvzqdkV4Ef6X_GtjhjLflmn3IA9LXZ4kwrer5r2NxI0nC9b-QqHPfoR9pj5E4wuJuONPKJZRC7o-WpYjliuMa/s320/DSCN3223.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382528837978508466" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">She's still adjusting to the terms "out-of-bounds", "goal kick", and "We're going THAT WAY!" But she sure looks cute in her Eastwood Eagles uniform.</div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXalXRgimjK7_zRaImXQQp6Qb-Mgf73g_0p3KfqAQoRt-D_FSto2FT5M6wTrhpyS7_ecT5GXH7xjrQTrxGeupLIlBLm8crGdj6yLdsnqeZzDfUKUNGqIQBFURFefr0x0FX7nwIoUKyIXlx/s320/DSCN3228.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382529468073894562" /><div style="text-align: center;">An appropriate caption for the next picture could be "Go Eagles", but since all the teams are Eagles, hmmm, the caption just doesn't fit. "Go Coach Jay and Coach Lee's Team"!</div><div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhxlXecifKCXqCHht_qiLDj79yPLxfdyiL1MaWss0B2FyDJ8Ykv05XFDx59bsCan7zPzrlUWFyCkTJ5PU4qCVmvSSgOMZxYfoTRjouu9XQDtyRhnd_lePcDOsg6-GomD7EsWVDFB-AG-s/s320/DSCN3226.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382531126907994642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><div style="text-align: center;">Mommy and Daddy got to go on a getaway without the kiddos. We went to one of </div><div style="text-align: center;">our favorite destinations, the Horseshoe in Columbus, Ohio. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We watched The Best Damn Band In The Land enter the stadium.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxD7jhM8-k7sAkrqnKPJtHGhkUvU5XQstzRsv7WcBzw3qdut8php_Arj4Ofg8zYvbSYPiqsGB-lxDJ2VicVSxcKnhaI3c9oYz8cHOsVpuqD09fsbQBtizX_kEsYOOb14p2ngaFMbnHcxIh/s1600-h/DSCN3209.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxD7jhM8-k7sAkrqnKPJtHGhkUvU5XQstzRsv7WcBzw3qdut8php_Arj4Ofg8zYvbSYPiqsGB-lxDJ2VicVSxcKnhaI3c9oYz8cHOsVpuqD09fsbQBtizX_kEsYOOb14p2ngaFMbnHcxIh/s320/DSCN3209.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382532306529980226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And everyone's favorite, Brutus the Buckeye.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhonjwW5EzFQZPN749yRC9h2nOBXwLJVl-7n6n0cGyNwVxkIYR2yfQZn0CZHJt9t7z_bApOEcK7ohcbX-XDqvvotvpgG5jpfQfiUkcuTZunY783JTGvcm9Nvz3WHlgWINRp3BR845JwRmC9/s1600-h/DSCN3212.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhonjwW5EzFQZPN749yRC9h2nOBXwLJVl-7n6n0cGyNwVxkIYR2yfQZn0CZHJt9t7z_bApOEcK7ohcbX-XDqvvotvpgG5jpfQfiUkcuTZunY783JTGvcm9Nvz3WHlgWINRp3BR845JwRmC9/s320/DSCN3212.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382532632350254530" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">We waited in large masses to enter the stadium. I thought we were going to miss </div><div style="text-align: center;">my favorite part, but alas, we found our seats in time for Script Ohio.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKOp7M2o3TEVj8HsFF4ImYHot4SZTC-9li9wfKebVH4wzUs9Z3Z3nzPRRQPuXrWrIrNSjtVx8ogchzTvpKCNptHjgsDtKUEkJ9I8YTOt2rOCNrRzE7e6fi5fKoGcNzZ3u0bLobOrZgEfS/s1600-h/DSCN3217.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKOp7M2o3TEVj8HsFF4ImYHot4SZTC-9li9wfKebVH4wzUs9Z3Z3nzPRRQPuXrWrIrNSjtVx8ogchzTvpKCNptHjgsDtKUEkJ9I8YTOt2rOCNrRzE7e6fi5fKoGcNzZ3u0bLobOrZgEfS/s320/DSCN3217.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382533340391239442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div style="text-align: left;">The fans were crazy, and spirit was high, and the momentum was in our favor for most of the game. They did lose in the last two minutes of the game, but I don't think I'll attend another game as exciting as that one was. Even JJ said the crowd was more pumped than any Ohio State/Michigan game he has been to. I really enjoyed every minute and look forward to going again. Maybe this season?!?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One more thing, Miss Mallory is sleeping in a Big Girl Bed now! She's very excited about it, until bedtime. She does not like to slow down, or quit playing when it's time for lights out. Same as her sister. Monkey see, monkey do. And speaking of monkeys...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-h3HKcewqr34AqAz7vOjPk2qgN9hGiF-Unrf2X7XUarLLI5XRxSu_eqsj78qJhihlwb0M5tuzSiLk9P53zJB6rQ25nubcINsMrOrfqRb40jmFduvBWD33fV4xs-sv5qacWZrlq87buXS/s1600-h/DSCN3080.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-h3HKcewqr34AqAz7vOjPk2qgN9hGiF-Unrf2X7XUarLLI5XRxSu_eqsj78qJhihlwb0M5tuzSiLk9P53zJB6rQ25nubcINsMrOrfqRb40jmFduvBWD33fV4xs-sv5qacWZrlq87buXS/s320/DSCN3080.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382535424921658290" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">we have the cutest ones in the whole jungle!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNDqAQXklYVX6MmXG2wtn2ImAbneW5AJZFgyZshxxYPbJQny_fFjjuDc4GYf86Rx7-fkuZjnpB9manDKHxHYHEIVM-Gfy2okN47Oxw-2irsal4UQWUSZ1LwXxhi6VGdR5pVV__7OWL43m/s1600-h/DSCN3081.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNDqAQXklYVX6MmXG2wtn2ImAbneW5AJZFgyZshxxYPbJQny_fFjjuDc4GYf86Rx7-fkuZjnpB9manDKHxHYHEIVM-Gfy2okN47Oxw-2irsal4UQWUSZ1LwXxhi6VGdR5pVV__7OWL43m/s320/DSCN3081.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382535747788682098" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't you agree?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitXS0knUrxthfFFwyLQfbBPrrmY2vsxEDNrhxv2p2Eg7S8qVKX05pmm23pCtaTdvfoemYUi70MkxDEVHEEq61mjuHE7IKOhnCJZUGAYeYtkcVBqnIXBHHn8YFuKrTJZnfdOA4JFsJUwhB3/s1600-h/DSCN3084.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitXS0knUrxthfFFwyLQfbBPrrmY2vsxEDNrhxv2p2Eg7S8qVKX05pmm23pCtaTdvfoemYUi70MkxDEVHEEq61mjuHE7IKOhnCJZUGAYeYtkcVBqnIXBHHn8YFuKrTJZnfdOA4JFsJUwhB3/s320/DSCN3084.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382537214169226850" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Missy</i></span></span></div></div></div>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-58238124742867792102009-08-05T15:19:00.008-04:002009-08-05T15:39:33.122-04:00Idlewild, PA<div align="center">Good ol' <a href="http://www.idlewild.com/">Idlewild</a>. Our favorite summer hot spot. </div><br /><div align="center">A place where sisters actually act like best friends.</div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvPkAKTd6_2_Lvee-CFTT29mRCIFFWAWFdnzqLiriGdN0FUX-2hwoPy5AsgDZ5Qvkgh_3HJJynKVWU_z3cbMhkACQX0obG73Wtz1j8qOTEcZtDqOILzsJKRAmqf9TTX9CPiU979TcoAja/s1600-h/DSCN2906.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366564598553821234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvPkAKTd6_2_Lvee-CFTT29mRCIFFWAWFdnzqLiriGdN0FUX-2hwoPy5AsgDZ5Qvkgh_3HJJynKVWU_z3cbMhkACQX0obG73Wtz1j8qOTEcZtDqOILzsJKRAmqf9TTX9CPiU979TcoAja/s320/DSCN2906.JPG" border="0" /></a> A place where one-year-olds are within legal driving age.<br /><br /><em></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5hzZ8MB2YYzZ0ec5CxIGIMmvS8swkUz1xSaCUlgZY7POglB4UBrizDeO1MXKuy4A5FKhcwN1UzJ74reiu4EEYdG-zyyWT1ZmAq_eUqFEYHEu_1BYCgPivhhSZd796FlBhJTofwiafDs9j/s1600-h/DSCN2910.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366564178965272466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5hzZ8MB2YYzZ0ec5CxIGIMmvS8swkUz1xSaCUlgZY7POglB4UBrizDeO1MXKuy4A5FKhcwN1UzJ74reiu4EEYdG-zyyWT1ZmAq_eUqFEYHEu_1BYCgPivhhSZd796FlBhJTofwiafDs9j/s320/DSCN2910.JPG" border="0" /></a> A place where dinosaurs fly.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCceUhJAcPv-sEdIpBUZiABHmubTVHDK4CVbfdFuoOg1SFksbT5OrspnzbD1uHRtknDlTI30LjWWxZvo69RUgS4S_RuHZgDVg7iIWXR4e4wkHfZnf-v_q0n0zgxpaTpMGSMqVsclXkXpu/s1600-h/DSCN2908.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366563679866674450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCceUhJAcPv-sEdIpBUZiABHmubTVHDK4CVbfdFuoOg1SFksbT5OrspnzbD1uHRtknDlTI30LjWWxZvo69RUgS4S_RuHZgDVg7iIWXR4e4wkHfZnf-v_q0n0zgxpaTpMGSMqVsclXkXpu/s320/DSCN2908.JPG" border="0" /></a> A place where bikers girls pose for pictures.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIHR9aLwHM6bSbSI6nzeEvV2aZK7UUhNVjUpxo1aGAI7dISSNHyOqlBDpgSsZHsXjVVlRd6gNTmGFyageg5V7lQ-8j84357Gi5mmZeIunxMsYP_GlxxaxS3Q0u1uOn3zz2EN2w2LKRFmJ/s1600-h/DSCN2919.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366563260021545378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIHR9aLwHM6bSbSI6nzeEvV2aZK7UUhNVjUpxo1aGAI7dISSNHyOqlBDpgSsZHsXjVVlRd6gNTmGFyageg5V7lQ-8j84357Gi5mmZeIunxMsYP_GlxxaxS3Q0u1uOn3zz2EN2w2LKRFmJ/s320/DSCN2919.JPG" border="0" /></a> And just when you think there's no more fun to be had...<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFPWYTtLwh4CD5rTp1vSpy9C_48AzCNj45gjuKS9vGXzID3xaY_JuC_xPhduOkMCuwig88AuNyHIK4WeeOU_UF_f4XOmpJRFpCGZmgBmf_2MGCJPnbYwL2BqGZFAbdAa4DshP-DRXpx1x/s1600-h/DSCN2928.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366562755046079458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFPWYTtLwh4CD5rTp1vSpy9C_48AzCNj45gjuKS9vGXzID3xaY_JuC_xPhduOkMCuwig88AuNyHIK4WeeOU_UF_f4XOmpJRFpCGZmgBmf_2MGCJPnbYwL2BqGZFAbdAa4DshP-DRXpx1x/s320/DSCN2928.JPG" border="0" /></a> You enter the Soak Zone!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26Je6uLQcaPJ0srRvf3aHXnaTvsgzqQ8GZDrrn9RPB83isG1Ud575-ikCUfm-cqkbA_mYFfCI3RgmcKKGg9YZOTYCwxYtMBogTY4PyqZYrsJIT8Tl6i9rZLVN_srDYjHt5qUEjwh__ulW/s1600-h/DSCN2924.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366562415291250834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26Je6uLQcaPJ0srRvf3aHXnaTvsgzqQ8GZDrrn9RPB83isG1Ud575-ikCUfm-cqkbA_mYFfCI3RgmcKKGg9YZOTYCwxYtMBogTY4PyqZYrsJIT8Tl6i9rZLVN_srDYjHt5qUEjwh__ulW/s320/DSCN2924.JPG" border="0" /></a> Great way to cool off after a <em>hot, hot, hot</em> day of <em>fun in the sun</em>.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtReSMVqR_hBB8nJFc3vHywLJFHL7vR11bzGde1uTuFzP4VQ7nTT804mGX_ep33nZpxabi6ZyNVRC5dOYYS0Xu0FXQysQoypzF9gC19xkz8YpQyvN5Pkno6yOGvlLxlvIOE_MI5ZJvrjAH/s1600-h/DSCN2929.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366562004557513538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtReSMVqR_hBB8nJFc3vHywLJFHL7vR11bzGde1uTuFzP4VQ7nTT804mGX_ep33nZpxabi6ZyNVRC5dOYYS0Xu0FXQysQoypzF9gC19xkz8YpQyvN5Pkno6yOGvlLxlvIOE_MI5ZJvrjAH/s320/DSCN2929.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div><p align="center">We love Idlewild in the <em>sum, sum, summertime.</em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:180%;color:#3333ff;">Missy</span></em></p><br /><p></p>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-60411219498954606462009-08-05T14:52:00.014-04:002009-08-05T15:18:50.567-04:00There's Magic in the Air<div align="center">When your photo session goes like this...</div><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkgD2l1TatTVDBpejqHQNlFGkxWEl-YCzSia4062oB-SsW6Isl_wdcOutAuiAUMPQX1wss6UevEauSgjbvLmPkt4Bin_mOl0YyRHAddWWe2rtPY1ayW5-ENal_T7RsSymro_1Yq9qbjdeb/s1600-h/0074.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366558503736144466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkgD2l1TatTVDBpejqHQNlFGkxWEl-YCzSia4062oB-SsW6Isl_wdcOutAuiAUMPQX1wss6UevEauSgjbvLmPkt4Bin_mOl0YyRHAddWWe2rtPY1ayW5-ENal_T7RsSymro_1Yq9qbjdeb/s320/0074.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD3RyvvWczrSjFuGks3Iaa01eXH5FqXIO1-hLBpO6HsipfL6LNpyMC9jhh9uM5pEvdf8YMtMX5tPzAIbNtrEc7BtDqZ_63CPY320tHCKeXISm3dyUqj35UzYbx7XidXS4JiYPq3n_rOqq0/s1600-h/0059.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366558343288350466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD3RyvvWczrSjFuGks3Iaa01eXH5FqXIO1-hLBpO6HsipfL6LNpyMC9jhh9uM5pEvdf8YMtMX5tPzAIbNtrEc7BtDqZ_63CPY320tHCKeXISm3dyUqj35UzYbx7XidXS4JiYPq3n_rOqq0/s320/0059.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366558152150890770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDqj9No-qnhfgTfmeMj1cV5rRI5krVJYjsIluPHhBHY_je_cb5S1epvol6ajHTSq6Y8kWDNUKF2wsaUUd0IxFSNBXqeXhQS6ywAyaUrt5_1D7zIPspsOAjTrtH3z7sQF_LY2XgdPk5BmYD/s320/0073.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrplEEKL_K8HF9E18FFU2BOIe8g0ic_XDlzHCjWdwSjTSr3ygyTE27YwCGIBsScuwOM03ayAK2P5gkADKkk38XGcCCb_Up6ycgLLpTjEZ1-0329c3thBCQqJFVa2OZ-GaZjBT0Gj4G3wlj/s1600-h/0054.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366557982036986226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrplEEKL_K8HF9E18FFU2BOIe8g0ic_XDlzHCjWdwSjTSr3ygyTE27YwCGIBsScuwOM03ayAK2P5gkADKkk38XGcCCb_Up6ycgLLpTjEZ1-0329c3thBCQqJFVa2OZ-GaZjBT0Gj4G3wlj/s320/0054.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And turns out like this...<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMViA0fWjh9gwdX78dfD7Jan7_XEmfPs0FIaU0sMqmfd9jyeG_E3T5uygAZwrM8KN84j9X6zRITIm1dC3VBvNlTgFl-A2cszuGqJIfAvq30hxd6mXHAQu4C9AI-dJHn3tJ5h4dzqU72Jj/s1600-h/0013.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366557704147558546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMViA0fWjh9gwdX78dfD7Jan7_XEmfPs0FIaU0sMqmfd9jyeG_E3T5uygAZwrM8KN84j9X6zRITIm1dC3VBvNlTgFl-A2cszuGqJIfAvq30hxd6mXHAQu4C9AI-dJHn3tJ5h4dzqU72Jj/s320/0013.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyRFav2erFHgQPYIh1a87aoiE6XweXtaVDpfeUJHweR8wp2xKvZ6USOmeob8v3Tz8Dlcn-V5WSJFHg4s49pvpd4bPY61yK27WFpLa4UxXrO5OxT7BmxTm19bp5Gc6u54PU7ck1zLpcyvRJ/s1600-h/0002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366557536530929522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyRFav2erFHgQPYIh1a87aoiE6XweXtaVDpfeUJHweR8wp2xKvZ6USOmeob8v3Tz8Dlcn-V5WSJFHg4s49pvpd4bPY61yK27WFpLa4UxXrO5OxT7BmxTm19bp5Gc6u54PU7ck1zLpcyvRJ/s320/0002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgaBbl2AH_8D9ANLRxgBE6uDKldwbUMF3vN3XUxzcMVO4rn3JyzbQvfM37I5JtJWeOrCNHAL9sEIpCrgZM7Vk-y6f8BfO5R6Va3_XVOYeh5ltmQVJw4osx41nrbCFrbPqKI4WPdpw1lMV/s1600-h/0038.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366557449511720002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgaBbl2AH_8D9ANLRxgBE6uDKldwbUMF3vN3XUxzcMVO4rn3JyzbQvfM37I5JtJWeOrCNHAL9sEIpCrgZM7Vk-y6f8BfO5R6Va3_XVOYeh5ltmQVJw4osx41nrbCFrbPqKI4WPdpw1lMV/s320/0038.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPxy1ZXNbjrnxNR9j1o-kryVR8tn5hyphenhyphenBQ7uE4SoITtAtMKaca05IVJ0hGP80UtbUpZli5CdeGIfdwHDCKdWRscPCJrpYS3cJnvBPkHFETgC4dUcC_lltpZaalIrMzJ2RUibl8WsU0ax1m/s1600-h/0046.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366557337765409426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPxy1ZXNbjrnxNR9j1o-kryVR8tn5hyphenhyphenBQ7uE4SoITtAtMKaca05IVJ0hGP80UtbUpZli5CdeGIfdwHDCKdWRscPCJrpYS3cJnvBPkHFETgC4dUcC_lltpZaalIrMzJ2RUibl8WsU0ax1m/s320/0046.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggkb7E-1pDwHI9eAb8I87h6bYjhfSmYDF2pw3XDUeSRy2EGVbnFnxa5MVYQOabk40m2ySuH120cPI3GMxBv5fwWWm7ITDAAFYelTZUnpxw-v-9ZcF3_dvL9HYPHHr7X_PnRTIlcIyIbWLz/s1600-h/0050.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366557232388985538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggkb7E-1pDwHI9eAb8I87h6bYjhfSmYDF2pw3XDUeSRy2EGVbnFnxa5MVYQOabk40m2ySuH120cPI3GMxBv5fwWWm7ITDAAFYelTZUnpxw-v-9ZcF3_dvL9HYPHHr7X_PnRTIlcIyIbWLz/s320/0050.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduUnU3bxiRXnuSRMt6gYEQsMn7HY00J6khNXqokhbRIOJ54IOrSo330D2J8LVvltv3yyg3q4LuaYrVtPRIWFnaeHy2GYSEagsVI-mc1pkmorsgXBUezwvx9pKpnqxMV5sYnJMoeQ7Kjl0/s1600-h/0052.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366557128999823666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduUnU3bxiRXnuSRMt6gYEQsMn7HY00J6khNXqokhbRIOJ54IOrSo330D2J8LVvltv3yyg3q4LuaYrVtPRIWFnaeHy2GYSEagsVI-mc1pkmorsgXBUezwvx9pKpnqxMV5sYnJMoeQ7Kjl0/s320/0052.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366560731703624050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCUkMqevEdPUNM_-cAco219ev7ED-rDON_KZA06jgvq0HydHsXTTqOLGx9x8mCuntqk64qyPiQo7KZfVOaVdCs3AGgQBUjWPyXViGZS9RM-qceMJwaDiRtfi3JzjmPaZgW1iP5XbItvqMd/s320/0068.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RdzkuqIyHWMO_hwK1Wru63EXOGG_Ot8uCP6ThANmXEnYDgLK-l4rk7mR3OWowHOcp6yhWp3_bS64HNcYwEAm-PNQRbrms8YenTYSLXDoNy5hUve6-1b1sjhBWA_KYBty5qnG6ONzc1lF/s1600-h/0078.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366556855683580258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RdzkuqIyHWMO_hwK1Wru63EXOGG_Ot8uCP6ThANmXEnYDgLK-l4rk7mR3OWowHOcp6yhWp3_bS64HNcYwEAm-PNQRbrms8YenTYSLXDoNy5hUve6-1b1sjhBWA_KYBty5qnG6ONzc1lF/s320/0078.jpg" border="0" /></a>You know <em>there's magic in the air</em>!<br /></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:180%;color:#993399;">Missy</span></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-47463769239463825692009-07-29T16:32:00.009-04:002009-07-29T17:07:10.328-04:00Sauder Village<div align="center">Last week, we went to Sauder Village with some friends of ours. It is a historic park donated to show life and times from Native Americans in Ohio through pioneers of 1910. They have a little barber shop, cooper's shop, basket weaving shop, broom shop, cabinet making shop, etc. You can go in each shop and learn about that place during that time period.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Here are the girls looking out a window. Peek-A-Boo!</div><div align="center"><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEz1Vm0oi1Xduhow00WsCVWThZRtl6XzVTxEZO-SD6tOOheM5Qiw_GeJs207Hh6CeCtUbJaKHjODoOvd2yjX5EL4zWObfdZjCfjDOFssQd7EDYtgoow7muokyFJ2u-EvgzkmX0VGIdNGF/s1600-h/DSCN2948.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363986980183983698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEz1Vm0oi1Xduhow00WsCVWThZRtl6XzVTxEZO-SD6tOOheM5Qiw_GeJs207Hh6CeCtUbJaKHjODoOvd2yjX5EL4zWObfdZjCfjDOFssQd7EDYtgoow7muokyFJ2u-EvgzkmX0VGIdNGF/s320/DSCN2948.JPG" border="0" /></a> All four girls loved the covered wagon. And it only took six minutes to get a worthy picture!</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGL8Ak3nxjaDtA0ZqozcjbymQ4oxDf0EaTYv7XjYWZVAWkHoXaM3DqdCiNBdQruWArmBtK2o8FGZnFEfvMvCSlGBUXjMiiJqUS0rBcV7Ov_VXRGua_fdL0cqgCNbG-woSdJjMAmy72T-1H/s1600-h/DSCN2958.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363986227605365282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGL8Ak3nxjaDtA0ZqozcjbymQ4oxDf0EaTYv7XjYWZVAWkHoXaM3DqdCiNBdQruWArmBtK2o8FGZnFEfvMvCSlGBUXjMiiJqUS0rBcV7Ov_VXRGua_fdL0cqgCNbG-woSdJjMAmy72T-1H/s320/DSCN2958.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here they are getting eggs from the pretend chicken coop.<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ELkKGAnUinBCMah5kRKNJUz-co-sA0p7FUlk1kjp8zgTfSKIAmqaUUvb-DKiZ0eR5oRRtZZpuckelI23at-slEyWKl-LhytJvgKUete3Eo2pnR8Y5SgeO6vE-gr36Ctkaw4AQQj3_c-k/s1600-h/DSCN2961.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363985525209145394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ELkKGAnUinBCMah5kRKNJUz-co-sA0p7FUlk1kjp8zgTfSKIAmqaUUvb-DKiZ0eR5oRRtZZpuckelI23at-slEyWKl-LhytJvgKUete3Eo2pnR8Y5SgeO6vE-gr36Ctkaw4AQQj3_c-k/s320/DSCN2961.JPG" border="0" /></a> Mallory <em>wore</em> the chicken coop rings. Quite proudly, I might add.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItL05mpPGBGu3H4Tf627Y4EROpkzuJh2ifxPPqU3XxBh4349pWj6svpugqdbCJEp71jhVCUiFZI2mLdTyXwYnLCHtOv9n4dqtwA757_Qy4O_zb7q7hoDYzzZ_0TAWXtWaaQVeKzkEYswg/s1600-h/DSCN2963.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363984247422957410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItL05mpPGBGu3H4Tf627Y4EROpkzuJh2ifxPPqU3XxBh4349pWj6svpugqdbCJEp71jhVCUiFZI2mLdTyXwYnLCHtOv9n4dqtwA757_Qy4O_zb7q7hoDYzzZ_0TAWXtWaaQVeKzkEYswg/s320/DSCN2963.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here we are in the Little Pioneer House.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363984696027858146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiiTZ_Z2h2-7-yQ4emYYmT-n59AHzbzrysV7uus3Yu40gw8QZvoXFadoT4I_vdUM141Yf0ML3cbzilBJXZPlZs3gcsU7qbV8vgj3IFyK85ScAXoI_MeHQvHCzk5FRhxth6kV-DLiiT_y3C/s320/DSCN2968.JPG" border="0" /><br />So as you can see, our summers are full of fun. And we wouldn't have it any other way!</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:180%;color:#66cccc;">Missy</span></em></div></div>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-42444387777247794852009-07-27T12:18:00.002-04:002009-07-27T12:21:07.024-04:00PRAY!<center><br /><a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net"><img border="0" alt="Prayers for Stellan" src="http://www.preshwebdesign.com/images/stellanprayers.png"/></a><br/></center><br />Please pray for Stellan, as he is not doing well.<br /><br />Read about this miracle baby at <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/">www.mycharmingkids.net</a>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-53500405295081001672009-07-27T00:01:00.003-04:002009-07-27T12:18:05.482-04:00"Not My Child" Monday - 7/27/09<center><a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/"><img src="http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r208/jennisajoy/OUAB/NotMyChildMONDAY.jpg" /> </a></center><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">My precious children. They're <em>so sweet and well-behaved</em>. Just look at them...</div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0DSRQnuqgUB93wMiODNcANTikstObp5JaF0H-4zfhWquL73sewAbBso2_khF3nnGdeF83EbR_u2FQcyiInYDU8CwyUBTDgbsxjL_TrsfnDDs7eyhb4np653hBVDv_mHIc1sOvitL36TL/s1600-h/DSCN2930.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362611016240136562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0DSRQnuqgUB93wMiODNcANTikstObp5JaF0H-4zfhWquL73sewAbBso2_khF3nnGdeF83EbR_u2FQcyiInYDU8CwyUBTDgbsxjL_TrsfnDDs7eyhb4np653hBVDv_mHIc1sOvitL36TL/s400/DSCN2930.JPG" border="0" /></a> <em>Sigh</em>. The definition of INNOCENCE!<br /><br />They've left me with nothing to blog about this week.<br /><br />Oh yeah, except for this...<br />(check out the multicolored knot on this kid's forehead! Complete with probably-scaring wound.)<br /><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9cZJm3U1m6OXD5KWW0bZWQ89tCh9TBeyPhfbd_AWHG6WqKa_w1VNAeXX7q1PypP7Z1IthETr2DjXoxvGfmmhyphenhyphenA3CvGp9q3pIYui-jMEgR6-0lR7_sAqowhKUcrt6WDlB2-bT5ZieW7270/s1600-h/DSCN2978.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362608553941015250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9cZJm3U1m6OXD5KWW0bZWQ89tCh9TBeyPhfbd_AWHG6WqKa_w1VNAeXX7q1PypP7Z1IthETr2DjXoxvGfmmhyphenhyphenA3CvGp9q3pIYui-jMEgR6-0lR7_sAqowhKUcrt6WDlB2-bT5ZieW7270/s400/DSCN2978.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362610492453165954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe4PN7Xw1N8gIaEjngqE75L5APoHSowTItxE-aeJN6M4iEfFq_3vlvQxkS5OP9W9JDI8QfnLK0PBZ1igoFhe41HmCnCdbgbIlrlPYTJDS7llug3YRQnWdFE2YU6ow5msAZ3YsyYv64qhEs/s400/DSCN2979.JPG" border="0" />It's even 3D, protruding off her head in mere seconds after kissing the corner of the coffee table!</div><br /><div align="left">Oh, and believe me, she wasn't this happy when it happened. </div><br /><div align="left">I mean <em>if</em> this would have happened, she would not have been happy about it.<br /></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><div align="left"><em></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em>Thank goodness it didn't</em>! </div><br /><div align="left"><em>Not to my child.</em></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">And not the be outdone by her little sis, Big Sis also had a very calm week. </div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362614823073887362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQphPsU4Nd5fONGnh7ud6ZHyjs2hjPg4cNSbyP8Q2_N1OGJM5iG8RrqDPQTOBCRKHWznRV-aTC51DrB5rIe3HYSw4GnaMseh-tVok6QqclpBB3shcj92BtoVtR1bHXGxmiul1uCEB0zKx/s400/DSCN2984.JPG" border="0" /> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">She went off the diving board at swimming lessons. </div><br /><div align="center"><em>She even remembered to stop at the end of the dive for the next directions from the instructor</em>. I mean, she <em>absolutely did not</em> just walk off the end of the dive before anyone was ready to catch her. That would have caused her to go extremely too far underwater, and resurface like a million seconds later coughing up pool water. I mean who would do something so senseless. </div><br /><div align="center"><em>Not my child</em>. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_v1NswHnktnUQtqLEYVzUfqyVO8Q23tgIdltXpOg38Cp3yRlOeMPFiK3TEmZ0B-vrEMszHcBl0GnQid045TU7IrtSofXYLPyN_aSB8Asm0vZpVMe8RKybSJBT_OjV9M3xQrD-TaRvyIT/s1600-h/DSCN2946.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362607498162150946" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_v1NswHnktnUQtqLEYVzUfqyVO8Q23tgIdltXpOg38Cp3yRlOeMPFiK3TEmZ0B-vrEMszHcBl0GnQid045TU7IrtSofXYLPyN_aSB8Asm0vZpVMe8RKybSJBT_OjV9M3xQrD-TaRvyIT/s400/DSCN2946.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><br />After all, <em>my</em> children are <em>clearly</em> the definition of <em>INNOCENCE</em>!</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:180%;color:#66cccc;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:180%;color:#66cccc;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:180%;color:#66cccc;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:180%;color:#66cccc;">Missy</span></em></div>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-38290180299752479182009-07-03T07:11:00.017-04:002009-07-07T08:38:30.666-04:00German Wedding TraditionsThere are a lot of wedding traditions that I saw in Germany that were a first for me. One such tradition, I asked about while getting ready that morning.<br /><br /><br />Me: "So, do the bride and groom see each other before the wedding?"<br /><br /><br />Katrin: "Yes, when the bride's car pulls up, the groom meets her at the door and helps her out of the car."<br /><br />Me"Oh, okay. So, I'll have my camera ready"<br /><br /><br />So we get to the church, I jump out of the car (since I rode with the bride), I get my camera ready, I look around for the groom to come help the bride out of the car... no groom. A bunch of guests, but no groom anywhere. Uh oh! The bride gets out of the car on her own, and ten seconds later the groom shows up, much relieved from his recent restroom visit. Hmmm! Is that how it's supposed to work?!?<br /><br /><br />Some traditions were the same as here in the states, like having a cute flower girl lead you down the aisle.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354197244927315442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJBwQoVFjJLMziYQQ8A2zvCsBRTXag3oz5wpBmR2059dQqNCd2HT6JOKkZrbVmiMdcM406dpYJGLG1LQUdULg_5oo41HD609ppR8JGfmFj82veGNse5d2615p2Pd9PbWOEuu8FhoypqjDY/s400/DSCN2589.JPG" border="0" />There really is no wedding party in ugly bridesmaid dresses. There are just two witnesses who sign that they witnessed the ceremony. During the ceremony, the bride and groom sat down with their backs to the crowd, which I found to be a little odd.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354194406938681394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_RScWwXKPkDMF8_dBDqIZu9UeNDX4Cey-cI9l6pnXAfPWD9s2MrBr4HoUVz3nK9knTxp6ZuDqidQm6XRCAJStNMgrQbe94MCDJSQN_m3rP5B2VZN50vs-NGvgasZdlKx7xXjrnQrA5mfn/s400/DSCN2592.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">They do exchange rings.<br /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354205391784689730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhccnWPPvR7y_9z7e0_IU0ZghhBbQtjbncVz_UWTN6GHmQ5IcNs13_WZ6orDWAU5YkJwqvkx5dcz6eIlSNxD4fGBt8h9SYM-T57ZzKaz7nm2eX5a-4K6yzYiiiLqIEHz7kS2Q29MOVAhiuQ/s400/DSCN2594.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">And a first kiss as a married couple.</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354206637387779762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHM6haBpz0OEjmQurXyxkB-D5kgNHjCxXRaQiJVkYDeDM7b5hyNDAarKbeTK9PSjPVENkEqz6GKby5BfqeJreyDIQD8sv5SYHfWKMVx5ZyfjZCi1E1XbtsMFy-UQcVtZIXN_23tj7s1VS/s400/DSCN2597.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />After the wedding, much of the traditions that are the same, end. Now it got a little crazy for me because everything was different. Here, the bride and groom cut a heart out of a sheet, and then the groom is supposed to carry the bride through the opening in the sheet.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354201893180391922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguC8l-NfJtloRmHqAT0s1_i8LOOvFp1jKpK6oBLybntF1kpk4bW3z_izDwbMZO5iGWJs6ary3JeledacGM_44tRyORAEitN-e5CWAMdG-p9rI2S83dugY_-cQKdplh28C3z6Xax97yfFEx/s400/DSCN2618.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">Which he did.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguC8l-NfJtloRmHqAT0s1_i8LOOvFp1jKpK6oBLybntF1kpk4bW3z_izDwbMZO5iGWJs6ary3JeledacGM_44tRyORAEitN-e5CWAMdG-p9rI2S83dugY_-cQKdplh28C3z6Xax97yfFEx/s1600-h/DSCN2618.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354202625622194242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZooybKtEa-IS0k0_XUv-yYyr-QhhXvYeywqQKuxvzhkU_R0GT8uwSHl85prUDNLJp635Sm_p1B-nWlYCMjLVUdoBjJcg2og6jZiqqzRxCVtF-8tgzVkI_CzEykFxI9Yx7i6l0ttVo7Jg6/s400/DSCN2621.JPG" border="0" /></a> Then, they celebrate by having champagne outside. It's not everyday you can drink publicly on the sidewalks, but hey, I'm just an observer. By the way, in case you were wondering, the bride's mother and father are on the right.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354202218921138354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUOkO0gH6lffdnS3iQ3EJzcXn_DSuTq6WByX1YSk0hg9rPbzE-y9uBgJD_VLGVM-kpOLmIBQC7bCHf1XUgkslq3FFJoycxkBlE9FXmcjgLGGISEgRFrz9Xv_5zCbiY1jU7sKhR0WjTdBS/s400/DSCN2623.JPG" border="0" /> Then, ALL the guests go with the bride and groom and photographer for their photo session. That was really nice at first, to see them in all of their shots, but after about an hour of following them around, it got a little monotonous. I realized the many reasons that we do NOT do this in the states.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2kmZpG4ZYKq5bC7iwvplQ6oyFQecGlFVPBME-JbHwLs_WFx0ZA6ThXvMP-T5QTQmMF2jgKrcMSXXKfQ7gLNVEomlp0EYPmsAGCKZrlWi_uPvOhrPCJAUpMnglf0sab5yd5lVTFKqK0nI/s1600-h/DSCN2629.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355684914645384162" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2kmZpG4ZYKq5bC7iwvplQ6oyFQecGlFVPBME-JbHwLs_WFx0ZA6ThXvMP-T5QTQmMF2jgKrcMSXXKfQ7gLNVEomlp0EYPmsAGCKZrlWi_uPvOhrPCJAUpMnglf0sab5yd5lVTFKqK0nI/s400/DSCN2629.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>Here the bride and groom are sending up a "wishing balloon". They light a fire underneath to fill the balloon with hot air, then they make a wish it send it to the heavens. Cute, I like this one.<br /></div><div><br />Oh yeah, be sure your flower girl attempts to get in every picture, because she is so adorable.</div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div>Before the reception, the bride and groom had to saw through a log together. I didn't get a picture because I was holding a sleeping flower girl on my shoulder. But you know what sawing a log entails, right? At least the country folk know, like if you're from Beloit. Oh, and my dad knows how to saw logs too. Both the literal and inferential phrase.<br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div>The bride and groom did cut the wedding cake together. Whoever's hand is on top is supposed to signal who will be the stronger force in the marriage. Do we do this? I wonder who's hand was on top at my wedding?!? I mean, it was obviously mine, right?!? They did not serve cake to each other, much to my dismay. I was ready with the camera for a good-old German cake-smashing, but no such event took place.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXWJWA039GfPecJ1jBJWatFbE8oUGocr34DBew_zoEqbxfC0EGOp-AmeplfpoUY9AnXusQIbN4jcsGmnWxs2vCVXu_zu80XfZcip43lvZCCXEEbF9H4uxJhPkZ7PGDinNoQZ6qNDWzpGt/s1600-h/DSCN2641.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354200300590315874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXWJWA039GfPecJ1jBJWatFbE8oUGocr34DBew_zoEqbxfC0EGOp-AmeplfpoUY9AnXusQIbN4jcsGmnWxs2vCVXu_zu80XfZcip43lvZCCXEEbF9H4uxJhPkZ7PGDinNoQZ6qNDWzpGt/s400/DSCN2641.JPG" border="0" /></a> The guests bring china or porcelin to smash at the reception. It's supposed to symbolize that marriages have highs and lows. The breaking is supposed to symbolize the lows. The bride and groom have to clean up the broken glass. This symbolizes working together through the low points. That, and more importantly, getting your deposit back on your reception hall.<br /><br /><div>This cloth had a huge heart on it. All of the wedding guests were supposed to write a message inside the heart. Then the bride and groom cut it out and the groom carried the bride through, as I mentioned before. They save the heart and hang it somewhere in their house.<br /></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9sV9bGis_ULW0fRhWUpaenb__RTAeC4BYphYMQgAAox5ZSKMyAJjTYGMQrleypEUJOwlUrfoDJwOb6DABttOQT85Ua3qB2ma3qGagPEOObmlrApw4X7h3ebk0kcH9I660FhIPEnAfb_5a/s1600-h/DSCN2652.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354199590227798578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9sV9bGis_ULW0fRhWUpaenb__RTAeC4BYphYMQgAAox5ZSKMyAJjTYGMQrleypEUJOwlUrfoDJwOb6DABttOQT85Ua3qB2ma3qGagPEOObmlrApw4X7h3ebk0kcH9I660FhIPEnAfb_5a/s400/DSCN2652.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />At this wedding, the father of the bride even made a huge, heart-shaped cake for his daughter and new son-in-law. This one was covered with strawberries and had sparklers on it when they first brought it out! Nice touch!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfp0vLah7LT7IRQRHsCYBObl7OhjaXi8FsjVz6RuftL7aIX_XL62H0LXgqgBCp7zmhCx65L3Bnz6yHw1YntdmvYuTy_PBwttFYdSLiy6JRyc-02iF8t2SZbJwM2UGpwM49YQiQWQ1zyYS/s1600-h/DSCN2673.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354197682484152226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfp0vLah7LT7IRQRHsCYBObl7OhjaXi8FsjVz6RuftL7aIX_XL62H0LXgqgBCp7zmhCx65L3Bnz6yHw1YntdmvYuTy_PBwttFYdSLiy6JRyc-02iF8t2SZbJwM2UGpwM49YQiQWQ1zyYS/s400/DSCN2673.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div><br /><p>So, the traditions are many, and hopefully so are the happy years of marriage for my friend Katrin and her new husband Tom.</p><p>Congratulations from the States!</p><p><em><span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;">Missy</span></em></p>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-65155487548402475082009-06-21T07:01:00.008-04:002009-06-21T07:37:11.738-04:00The duties of a flower girlFlower girls are busy people. They have many responsibilities.<div><br /></div><div>First, you have to look cute. Very important, don't skip this step, or the rest of the steps are invalid.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmoSnV7sPAs3JfSsUbEP5MBD3413vktN2YG3reQn6h4Zm4s53l_LTMuMbvohskWaJOtGl6bsPoWvr1-WE0Ptv-rY-7156ADPIRhJxXQCQVvOBQtbRhjO1iDPrN0uR3dqyCq_wmknEUfn5T/s400/audrey2.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Second, be ready to pose for pictures, even in the sun.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilXTWxpjzc3dmSdKB8Fa2XfMuYWuwydycLKcFuzqZjYC0Ad64C5oxZWVjqmasFnfmHcN8MsAXTKsKyqknwCJPkkOtL_a-dwLgRjVfManFrSiKdv1iaBXMU5hAJVwBVoOVYG8xXsgluK-gJ/s400/audreysun.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Third, be ready to throw flowers, of course. Also, let anyone younger than you help out to avoid any crying or tantrums. There should be NO tantrums on the bride and groom's special day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSO0kS1xFaJFTmzyzpcgtBjqUbcnnSUOk2JAqLgDUYEznW4gaE7LUCjhTHw5iSy-ZLMjRzLg9Yf9Fsrk-l2JkzodxB5Ah3jFK8a8SBtzjPRb6fMH7oj3zQaUvTdTjThRMo4pzOZrs-r5x6/s400/DSCN2616.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">At the reception, be sure to invite yourself to play with other people's babies. After all, you are adorable, and everyone wants to talk to you, even if it is in German.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhExyGOnueZXHYtiZm6VNMaAwM9UqjKO_U_3dKg2J6ozZIOT2yuf9lGbfaO8t11Stuxg5DXoOCDnXLyImZLvukZu29DXzRLoegxKfS9KERcPnH8BZI6NhTA-HwCMTxkJGKYV3TW489tDbQ/s400/DSCN2646.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Throughout the course of the celebration, play Ring Around the Rosie with the German nephews of the bride. Be sure to sing in English, of course, so that they have no idea what you are saying. Also, don't forget to fall down at the end when the boys least expect it, so that everyone piles on top of each other and makes the crowd giggle.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVqjSn4AQ5X_GnyDH8QMYY6qYUPPF-PrKqggaqVhNR_PZQty8tzdsPr1zHfhTMOjQ4iZDrZwibK1ujPUVJGwqM2_hHr3UOACb_s1iKseFK-gdnDL8LTIYRUzOT8jKRCy89U5RvOLPyb1SC/s400/DSCN2655.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">If you have time after all of that, try to dance with a few complete strangers.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJWAqYTaR6bGK19qBPqTauGJda5xOoA7ZcLe0CoCqvbOXZZKP0EcNc1_EbkrL-tDc0IRO47frIxvGBA9ann2tJC1VgLEUCS9iJbdM1j1HF0lrUEeCWd2Y_U3PHGYV25ET1a2wmH-Ks48h/s400/DSCN2665.JPG" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't forget to stay up way past your bedtime. After all, when it's midnight in Germany, you still think it's only six pm. And going to bed at 6:00 pm would just be unheard of.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Missy</span></span></div>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-23291378491428971102009-06-21T05:56:00.005-04:002009-06-21T06:48:47.500-04:00Our Travel AbroadWe had a wonderful trip to Deuchland (Germany). Audrey loved flying, or at least the novelty of flying got her through the trip. We first flew from Toledo to Detroit. We were no sooner up and we were headed back down, so it was a good first flight experience for Audrey. Here she is in the tunnel at the Detroit Metro Airport. The tunnel plays music and the colors flash and change. She loved it.<br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXXu9eC2F0YRitSjYXnfUMjuUXOjdIg4fK0Kj6Ktc5_JiRqnEXQwOJuoHiutVX1gK5y_RWqjT4dZe5W0DtOp8ZjGWSRALNor1JADRoeAKrAihWm_gJmh-VhfgF5f-Z9c40lqYeFuP6gTR/s400/DSCN2567%5B1%5D" /></div><div><br /></div><div>We had an hour and a half to spare at the Detroit Airport, so we rode the Tram back and forth about seven times. That killed an hour. Audrey insisted on holding onto the pole inside the Tram even though she was in the stroller and the wheels were locked. Here she is doing so:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRR_lJfJTMTQKdPUi9YFmIAcm0vZU-ilH_b8ptsub_bBE504klFho8x0jlSrSYzmOe_uzMAUvwAtlQfwhIqi7b_66N8CbmxL5o6kQjYsLpFo-mDkZ1j9CskC0NaBMHrh0pPKBlRDryd0GR/s400/DSCN2569.JPG" /></div><div><br /></div><div>When we got onto our 8 hour flight to Amsterdam, Netherlands, we settled in, read five or six children's books, and ate dinner. I had some chicken/rice/veggie concoction with salad and roll and brownie. Audrey had a chicken nugget looking thing and tator tots, with salad, roll, and cookies.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>Later, we watched Marley and Me the movie. Audrey watched about half, and got bored of that. It was probably good because the end was sad. I started to tear up, and she asked me if I still missed Mallory and Daddy. Well, yes, of course, but this movie is sad too.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwg8wghdSyLlqw_5klwxEYwNyPMli2oqGtkmWNM1AtKuRCgbTZeIYwdyQl6c49W2L3pZ3emf_8_ilBxaaH2XR4hpQ6D_8crNhcvOhkvjPJojLyHCLdxc2uf8HUQlMcFhlw6PJJu1jP2WJv/s400/Audrey.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>We sat right in front of the galley and restrooms, so it never really got dark or quiet. Audrey fell asleep after I draped her blankie over her head to block out the light and distractions of people walking by. I, on the other hand, sat very uncomfortably and was only able to close my eyes for about 2 hours, but still heard everything around me. Argh!</div><div><br /></div><div>We arrived in Amsterdam and went through customs. I was accused of trying to steal my child from her father because I had no form from the police saying that I had the father's permission to take her out of the country without him. I did have a signed letter from him, but they said anyone could have written that because it wasn't notorized or anything. I thought for a minute they were going to send us back to the U.S., but finally they let me through. They just said next time I must have this form. Whatever!</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, we made it to Berlin, met Katrin at the gate, and got to our final destination. All in a days work.</div><div><br /></div><div>Auf Wiedersehen!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Missy</span></span></div></div>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-75921540233365821802009-06-16T20:40:00.005-04:002009-06-16T21:04:12.399-04:00Beautiful Babies<span style="font-family:arial;">OMG! Audrey and I are off to Europe in two days (Thursday, to be exact). We are mostly packed, mostly prepared, mostly excited, and entirely sad to be away from our husband and baby, or daddy and sister.<br /></span><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;">Before our big trip, though, we had a wonderful visit with my very good friend, Michelle, and her beautiful babies. You heard me right, plural! Landon and Kaelyn were just about the cutest things I ever did see. They arrived, starving, from a long car ride from Dayton. After gobbling their yummy bottles, they settled in playing on the floor. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348093776807785586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOh7-m-6YVWOn9brxFr71IP3P0YBhT3IBfxulbPMn6-c99W9Mj-awg2yZzGzTXIkKrliG1CJCBtYt6z0jOp60YxLoW16XGTJqyVzQ79IFPjKx3qFOUCy-eMBRsRJN30bkXHVfmCumffbW-/s400/DSCN2538%5B1%5D" border="0" /><br /></span><div><span style="font-family:arial;">My kiddos loved watching them kick their little toes and make adorable baby grunts. Mallory especially took to putting their binkies back in their mouth EVERY time they fell out! What a helper she is! So focused, even if it is on her own agenda. Minor detail.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;">Then the babes snuggled up like love bugs and took a little snooze.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348094645321192050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uzANod6Azl5H2nPk13NrHJfMMTBt4Qpy2NZ3obrUDm-wnMMQ-FOMVXWjVVNPtrcWVVaa9cAWdzqPR-K1adg83fgDKKYb_jAzMJZ7mXGw_3kQ9Gd0exYDlXtIj_ey3WiwUgVeWvTxqR3K/s400/DSCN2541%5B1%5D" border="0" /> </span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">Aren't they adorable?</span></div><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348095331864660914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9_ZrcEBjRqBL-B9GpdyiU0OYoDLdc0WNUZ_AB1OP2LgOfRGBpTFECt_QVx3gxX3i8z7TeIKpizFdtimr1I7kpn0mznzQpCcVr4yI_LEfOOLHXwMZEPFuMjVRcNkbopBH1lTU7W7H1XTTl/s400/DSCN2542%5B1%5D" border="0" /></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">What better way to fall in love, than to fall in love twice as much, twice as quickly, and twice as unconditionally. Congratulations Ryan and Michelle! And thanks for the wonderful visit!</span><br /><p><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"><em>Missy</em></span><br /><br /></p>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-70708697440191134702009-06-08T17:01:00.004-04:002009-06-08T18:12:45.724-04:00Not Me Monday - 6/8/09<div>Well, the later part of last week was dedicated to the preparations for our garage sale, which was Saturday and Sunday. So most of the things that I did not do took place during the actual garage sale or the preparing for said event.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>I did <em>not</em> coax my three-year-old into an oh-so-cute sales pitch with as many customers as I could. She comes up with that stuff all on her own.</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345082058094611842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HZZ2zxlytm9K_-sPb-SLxWf8jhP4FYeBb1CJyIzH9VLU_m-Y9CNLO0jekgfpxX1MKGZKn3LnQm9FpaykGjvJSMyU-Y30AzynlhsG_T8GiA8YX5TSxk8BAurR9AqFBxDtNMyF9myhhRXZ/s400/DSCN2548.jpg" border="0" /> <div></div><br /><div>I would <em>never</em> forget to give my very own kids lunch. Even in the hustle, bustle of hosting a garage sale. Furthermore, <em>it wouldn't even be remotely like me</em> to give them snacks all day to <em>avoid</em> giving them lunch. Even if the snacks were nutritious, like raison, rice cakes and graham crackers. No snacks take the place of a healthy lunch, right? Oh and by the way, I <em>always</em> give my kids healthy lunches, too!</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345080463125858994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jpv1fwbkzVxvO-xYFmecaDxdqDndWKiitHd1yXODZA1_gjvfDXITbgeTLEn6xnBp88oFk_Uf7DQJVaAZijcdPZKqOHRNhKVXhKtt-Me62ylrwzBwGvauKGdXYAPbyhbm_e8Yeu-aKnRL/s400/DSCN2547.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>I would <em>not</em> see my loving husband for only approximately 30 minutes on my birthday, which was just about enough time to collect my birthday present. NO not <em>THAT</em> present! Geez, where is your mind! I'm talking about my Reese cups and fancy new toothbrush that I've been asking for (and the new tennis shoes that I have to pick out myself before leaving for Europe). Sorry honey! We'll find time together another day.</div><div></div><br />Oh, and in case you were wondering... I did <em>not</em> make $200.00 at the garage sale, and more importantly, got rid of a bunch of junk!<br /><br />And, with that, we're off for another week of <em>perfect</em> parenting <em>at it's finest</em> and children that are always <em>well-behaved</em>!sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-25189917733401107232009-06-02T07:50:00.005-04:002009-06-02T08:14:10.302-04:00My Little Literature Ladies<div>My kids LOVE to read! I guess having a teacher for a mother has some perks! Not a day goes by that we don't enjoy a good book or four, or five, or six. People look at us funny when we leave the library with a bag of 21 books. Hey, what can I say, three books a day, and I'll see ya back here next week.<br /></div><div><div></div><br /><div>Of course, it makes me smile inside when I hear both kids' teachers comment on their love of books too. "We always make sure we have a reading station open for Mallory. She loves to read." I know. That's for sure. </div><div></div><br /><div>And then on to the next conference, "Audrey really enjoys reading and writing. She's been opening the books and looking at how to spell things, so she can write them."</div><br /><div></div><div>My kids make me so proud!</div><br /><div></div><div>As you can see, they'll read anywhere, anytime, with anyone. Here is Audrey reading to her kindergarten friend, Hannah (remember the Hoppy story, enough said). Thanks, Hannah, for telling her the words she doesn't know!</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342696956240190338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 365px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 288px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4pteazvxCvZ5eOrf3xQ-prY2sKfwBlX1DO_px0qmGjOE8ybspbjgNoyxNWJEOUXLJqjX2hHpe_MlAsUdXjCF39FxejJZfOtKA3KGhw2em9tPJb9BwZkiOj8s-78kcii3iDxoTntnqBgO/s320/DSCN2530.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><div><br /></div><p>Here's Mallory, listening to a book being read by the husband of my friend, Rose. I tell ya, they don't care if it's familiar people or not, they just love books. (I love this picture)</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342700069932337954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz56D5NjsYS-ycuhTS5mZ7GODGspxJrTUZFwVDK1PYyEaal_mRyaigTR5kEShvwWWLSXBc6iL8t0f-SrKRT7HVJm95aBd5I9U35Izq28t3T8fI3I7nwk3zvTUi-HMNcrEB4_8ZftgpJhia/s320/DSCN2529.jpg" border="0" /> <p>They'll even take time from their argueing to read to each other.</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342701233142482610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 359px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgyowMP2KkOqeg-eTp4Y90xvF2ptBlJOFDKK6Th_pePUGXN66_UoDwG-d-tHa-9dUkP6QWBaGaeRB-PtJurKqer1_Grr93dYNx0Nvn2PF7gbo7vMpURWReeZ6gBUWIsnHEeP3lSq0wbBZb/s320/DSCN2532.jpg" border="0" />Summer Reading Club begins this week at the local library. You know we'll be there!<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Missy</span></em><br /><p></p>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-54184330065588046812009-06-01T12:09:00.001-04:002009-06-01T21:37:19.534-04:00Not Me Monday - 6/1/09<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:11;"><center><a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/"><img src="http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r208/jennisajoy/BLOG%20DESIGN/ONCEUPONABLOG/NotMeMonday.jpg" /> </a></center></span><br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Join in with MckMama, and half the world, in the blog craze, "Not Me Monday".</span><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 24px;font-family:'Century Gothic';" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Are you feeling guilty for pretending not to notice your toddler playing with the dogfood? Feel like a slouch for staying in your jammies all day? We'll </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">don't</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">!</span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Not Me!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Monday was born out of my desire to admit some of my imperfections and reveal a few moments I'd rather forget. You may find it therapeutic to join in and do the same thing!</span></span><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 24px;font-family:'Century Gothic';" ><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 24px;font-family:'Century Gothic';" >While entertaining guests at our rural establishment, I would <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">never</span> let my kids and the guests' kids play with a random toad they found minding it's own business in the grass. I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">wouldn't</span> carry on conversations with my guests acting like I didn't just hear them name it Hoppy, like it's a pet, and allow said toad to plunge to the concrete repeatedly from any apparatus the kids could find. Don't toads carry a plethora of germs. What parent would use a germ-infested creature to entertain guests? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">No one would seriously do that!</span> Nor would anyone secretly <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">giggle</span> when the children come in the house and mention that Hoppy is dead! Poor guy. I mean <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">hypothetically</span>, of course. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 24px;font-family:'Century Gothic';" ><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 24px;font-family:'Century Gothic';" >And before our guests came, I would <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">never</span> bribe our offspring into helping clean the house. I mean is a cookie a valid way to earn your keep? Aren't parents supposed to teach their kids that they should clean up their own things JUST BECAUSE IT'S THE RIGHT THING TO DO! I mean my husband and I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">definitely</span> have this parenting thing down pat, and we <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">always</span> use teachable moments to show our kids right from wrong.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 24px;font-family:'Century Gothic';" ><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 24px;font-family:'Century Gothic';" >When someone asks my eldest child where she got that cute outfit, and she replies honestly that it is from a garage sale, I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">wouldn't even think about</span> fibbing that it's from Baby Gap, Old Navy, or Gymboree, and laughing it off as kids just being silly. Remember, I use <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">all</span> teachable moments to teach right from wrong and lying is just <em>not</em> something I would ever model to my children!</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 24px;font-family:'Century Gothic';" ><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 24px;font-family:'Century Gothic';" >And lastly, I would <em>not</em> wait until <em>nine o'clock at night</em> on Monday to post my first "Not Me Monday" blog, knowing full well, no one is likely to read it until Tuesday. I mean it. I'm <em>completely</em> into the craze. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;"></span><br /><em><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Missy</span></em>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614663356107729681.post-24619878326381890722009-05-31T00:00:00.000-04:002009-05-31T00:00:01.125-04:00Rural Living<span style="font-family:arial;">First of all, welcome to my blog. Living far away from family (and civilization, in general) has led me to want to find a way to share my kids' upbringing with my family. I barely have time to (cook, clean, shower, grade papers) keep up with a blog, but I hope to find time weekly to update. I am inspired by MckMama from <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/">mycharmingkids.net</a>. Check her out if you get a chance. Great writer, great photographer, insiring story, child of God.</span> <div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;">So what <em><strong>do</strong></em> we do way out here in rural country? Well, recently, we've been doing some of this...<br /></span><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhToExpGJQi6vcl-lF9devdgZoQGqOdyApEZUDNdkfAPOxAhCrZfrZ5cxNEM51t5ZHIINGckKi3ZYniJPAsuKzFxRMw50JGbz-EtRdNaC2oBEJIkk7rEeAx4TDzBToYOs56OA0LNUvR-wB8/s1600-h/DSCN2519.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341781612063260034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhToExpGJQi6vcl-lF9devdgZoQGqOdyApEZUDNdkfAPOxAhCrZfrZ5cxNEM51t5ZHIINGckKi3ZYniJPAsuKzFxRMw50JGbz-EtRdNaC2oBEJIkk7rEeAx4TDzBToYOs56OA0LNUvR-wB8/s320/DSCN2519.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div><br /></div><div align="center">and some of this...</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341781998342228402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUo8EuRrMnNpUcHvBq5AyCjUFKh0i601vuCXeVYH9j4qYaTGxibd8aeTHr7SF1x1rQ47F4nS5GHq6KFddnriU-QorHBCNR5wX47YxRzlp0FOxZPOxMxMbVujtf72zCEuQB9-Y4rekD2WU/s320/DSCN2490.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-family:arial;">and even some of this, believe it or not!</span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341783019193352610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOvOPwZgKZTmML-qRtu4r8roPpsD8ouY_ek8P8mU8POJkbvgn5CCPkoiW5NmPxaNPsQeHVL3wlXjwhO7hmwclVV7THLauHX5kEKoXcaQWlmMu_WPO_krUXexj782EeuCTMTtccPJbvRkI/s320/DSCN2518.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><span style="font-family:arial;">Other than that, well, what else is there? School's out for the summer. Audrey and I are off to Europe on June 18th to attend and be flowergirl in my friend Katrin's wedding. Audrey's the flowergirl, not me, although I do consider myself to be quite "youthful". </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Keep checking back (to see how often I actually get a chance to update) to follow us during our fun-filled summer.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"><em>Missy<br /></em></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div>sandberggirlshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08024451584950377240noreply@blogger.com2