tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47137019813867814002024-03-13T11:47:17.746-04:00Mommie or Bust ~ A Mother’s Journey Through AdoptionMy journey into mommyhood was not your typical experience. There were No plus signs on a stick and no morning sickness, no midnight cravings, no ultrasound to see if it is a boy or girl....well you get the idea. Nonetheless, I am a mother of four amazing children whom my husband and I adopted through Domestic Adoption...this is the incredible story of us.
(Start from the beginning with first post.)Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.comBlogger137125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-36439592076661694242021-11-15T11:47:00.000-05:002021-11-15T11:47:48.881-05:00Wise Owl Mama<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAaxUaftIGLnoIi50vQboI2IjKvZ7-WXReojUtgsfVWoCwac6-IGfcZriupsbLFBuwB2uT1kNGKVgn1yreUR0j8OAFfQCb7wmL5eSNAz-0dFhaQP8jzP1_Spjq-m55OZBeNUyWRr6c_eUV/s612/09CADC17-47AC-4EF5-9815-6916C8485B7D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAaxUaftIGLnoIi50vQboI2IjKvZ7-WXReojUtgsfVWoCwac6-IGfcZriupsbLFBuwB2uT1kNGKVgn1yreUR0j8OAFfQCb7wmL5eSNAz-0dFhaQP8jzP1_Spjq-m55OZBeNUyWRr6c_eUV/w326-h298/09CADC17-47AC-4EF5-9815-6916C8485B7D.jpeg" width="326" /></a></div><br /> Please join me in my new Blog. Wise Owl Mama. Life has been the journey of a mamas lifetime. <a href="https://wiseowlmama.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Wise Owl Mama</a><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-41176275088887991612021-02-21T11:20:00.000-05:002021-02-21T11:20:09.979-05:00A mother's love.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A Mother's Love.....</h2>
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<i>Is a fuel that enables a human being to do what seems impossible.</i></h3>
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October 2016 - I know what it feels like to adopt a child. What I don't know is how it feels to be adopted. Only an adoptee can know what it feels like to them. It's been a little over two years since I have updated Mommie or Bust. Geez, a lot goes on in two years. I am one busy momma. Busy in a different way than the early years. Just to briefly remind you, my 4 adopted children came from the same biological mother, each as a newborn. This blog outlines this journey dating back to 2011. Check it out in the archives. </div>
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These days, my three older kids are either a teen or a tween and quite often, it's an emotional roller coaster in this house. My poor ten year old son B, just hunkers down and holds his breath just trying to escape the chaos. We've grown a lot around here in our adoption journey. Each child is at different points in their journey and quite frankly, as they've grown, they've taken very different paths in embracing their adoption journey. </div>
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Two years ago, I won't lie, I was overwhelmed with trying to navigate through my daughter A's pain with understanding life as an adopted kid. Kids are mean, emotions can be confusing. I took a break from blogging since I kinda felt, I had a lot to learn, before continuing. The best way to sum up that time is to tell you in her own words. "Mommy, why do I miss someone in my heart, that I don't remember and who doesn't want to meet me"? My heart broke. I can't fix that. The fact that I couldn't "fix" that took me a long time to accept. A mother want to fix things for her child. Mend her heart. I struggled everyday with saying the right thing. Trying not to say the wrong thing. I crie. She cried. Eventually, I just prayed about it. I started to realize that it's not my job to "fix" it. It's my job to love her through her own acceptance of things and to create ways to help her get there. One day, I asked her, what makes her the saddest about missing her biological mother. She said, " the fact that she is never gonna know what a nice person I am. She won't know that I'm really good at sports". So, I came up with a solution that has really helped her live without that constant pang of separation from her biological mom. We created a special journal to her biological mother. She writes down everything that she wants her to know and all she hopes to share with her someday. She also writes her deepest feelings about why she is adopted. It has helped beyond measure. Sometimes she brings it to me and reads an entry. Sometimes, it hurts, but for her, it helps. It's is helping me too. By sharing her journal with me, she is teaching me what it feels like to be adopted. </div>
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* I found this in my drafts on 2-21-2021 and realized that I never published. I’m ready to resume this blog but first, I think this post is really important to share even if it’s 5 years old. It’s important to understand her journey and where she is now.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> ❤️ mommieorbust</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-23455279256987004902014-06-26T10:20:00.003-04:002014-06-26T10:21:34.452-04:00Adoption: Tragedy and Privelege<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This quote has embodies my state of mind as an adoptive mother for years now. I've never found another that speaks the truth of my heart so wholly.</div>
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The tragedy for her is the loss of raising her child. The tragedy for the child is the morning the loss and longing for that biological connection. The tragedy for me is that I can't change their tragedy.</div>
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The privilege is mine. I was chosen to be all that she felt she could not give him. I have the privilege of showing him how to love, how to BE loved and to rise above the challenges that we have in OUR path. No, I can never take away either of their pain from their tragedy, but this child will go off into the world knowing he was cherished and we respected HIS beginning and we honored his truth.</div>
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❤️Mommie or Bust!<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-12241306527896499242014-06-12T22:47:00.000-04:002014-06-12T23:30:58.868-04:00Choosing Adoption: One beautiful day at a time.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You can't imagine the joy that I have felt this week as my very amazing adopted daughter graduates from 4th grade and is preparing for her next scholastic adventure in the fall. All week, I have watched her celebrate with all her besties, walk proudly up to the podium to meet her teacher and principal and receive her certificate of completing elementarry school, and I have felt her squeeze me so tight in gratitude for all that we've been through this year and, we did it...together. She, born from the body of another and me, one who was never quite sure that I would ever mother something so incredible. This journey continues to widen my eyes day after day with each affirmation that we were meant to be on this journey together. Had I NOT chosen Adoption, this joy would not exist. This pride would not exist. The intimacy between this mother and this daughter......would not exist. That reality is NEVER lost on me. I am so blessed because I CHOSE not be afraid of choosing adoption. This blog is all about my journey from infertility to choosing adoption. But, the best parts are what comes after. By way of adoption, we became US! Our Family.<br />
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Be not afraid. Choose Adoption.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-16965345485836883942014-06-12T16:44:00.000-04:002014-06-12T16:44:04.703-04:00My Teen: his Adoption<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As I navigate through my first adopted child becoming a teenager, I am constantly trying to find articles about teens and adoption from those who came before me. That said, no two kids are the same in this world of "Being Adopted". I stumbled on to this cool article from AdoptiveFamilies.com, <a href="http://www.adoptivefamilies.com/articles/2331/adoptee-to-adoptee-advice-adopted-peers">Teens on Adoption: In their OWN words</a>. I found it very comforting to read the thoughts from kids in their teens. My teenager isn't much of a talker, so when he does, I pay very close attention. Lately, I have been assuming that no talking must mean that something is wrong or he is in turmoil. When he was young, he asked a lot of questions about his adoption and birthparents until he hit 5th grade and then he became more private about it. He is happy too respond to his friends when they ask questions. But at 13, he stays pretty private about it., and pretty much everything else in his life, lol. I am respecting that. I guess he's just the typical teenager finding his way through the world of growing up. I guess my point is that, be sure to lay the ground work when they are small. Build their confidence in "Being Adopted". Be that rock for them. They are experiencing something that YOU can't explain to them. THEY are adopted, NOT YOU. Listen to them. Hold them. Respect them. It's not about YOU! Note to self.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-38230601811269119812014-02-13T09:01:00.000-05:002014-02-13T09:01:00.905-05:00Adoption Journey: Don't Confuse Your Path with Your Destination!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Boy, that's the truth. As an adoptive mother of four, I have learned through my journey that, the hardships along the way towards your dream, not only are all part of what completes the journey, but what makes the journey worth it. Adopting children is a LONG journey. It's a never ending life lesson, full of blessings, rock bottoms and amazing surprises you can't fully grasp unless you DO it. You cannot anticipate what it will bring when dealing with their emotions about being adopted. Mine are 13, 12, 9 and my little guy is 7. We have experienced many phases now of kids feeling their way through being adopted. ...as well as our emotions as parents. There have been many a stormy path, but most of our storms end with a rainbow of growth, understanding and acceptance, by the Grace of God. People ask me if I think girls or boys are harder to navigate through the roller coaster of emotions. I tell them, I think it's more about the type of kid rather than the gender. The best advice I give to people who seek it, is that you must keep he lines of communication open with your child. Create an environment where there are no questions that can't be asked. It not simple, that's for sure. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-53714778555169467752013-07-02T13:36:00.000-04:002013-07-02T16:54:16.479-04:00The Walls came down. She is Adopted in HER heart.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My daughter is now 8 and a half. I have told her from day one, where she came from. Every time, she would shake her head at me and say, "no mommy, no". I kept at it, as always. Recently, the dam broke. Out poured every why? What? Who? And When? that had ever crossed her mind. Of course this was at 10:30 at night. Way past her bed time. But.....now, was the moment that an adoptive mom waits for. The moment that they let their guard down and accept in their heart just what you have told them time and time before. But today, she stopped rejecting the fact that SHE WAS ADOPTED. Today, she wanted all the answers. <br />
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I was prepared for such a moment, as I had been through it two other times with my two older boys. This time was different though. She is a girl and had dealt with the information differently than the boys had. Each experience has been a very unique experience. I will discuss more about the boys in future posts.<br />
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My daughter was mostly upset about an idea she had, that I, was somehow keeping her from visiting her (birthday mother). This would be a tough answer, as it was with my other children. You see, our birthday mom had asked us to encourage the kids to not look for her in the future. My hope had always been that she might change her mind, but, not so far. This is one of the hardest parts, because I want to keep things positive in her mind as long as I can. There is no good way to explain the "why" I can't see her to a child. She will know everything in time. As she grows older, the more negative facts will unfold. I hope I am giving you a window into just how difficult these emotions can be for both her and I. Baby steps. Keep with me, as this has a great ending.<br />
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So, after lots of tears and hugs and even anger, we decided on a plan. My hubby and I decided that the best thing for her would to get a special journal, so she could write all of her feelings, questions and thoughts in the book, as if she were writing letters to her birthday mom. She loved the idea. She writes every night. She looks through the journal and the life book we created for her and feel connected enough....for now. She hopes to someday give it to her. Me too.<br />
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Several days later, we were walking in to Target for a much needed "Target Trance", and she grabbed my hand and looked up at me with those baby greens and said, "I love you SO much my Forever Adoptive Mommie.<br />
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<span id="goog_1305322921"></span><span id="goog_1305322922"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a>A moment this Adoptive Mom will NEVER forget.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-85688481401888056572012-03-01T07:22:00.047-05:002012-03-31T12:11:19.500-04:00Welcome<b></b>Welcome to my story. I hope you laugh, cry or maybe find comfort here. Sharing my story has been healing for me. It has brought me amazing joy to share it. For now, I am going to stop here. The story is still unfolding. I will be back. If you are new here, please share this with anyone who is struggling with infertility, planning to adopt, or just needs a good "happy cry". Begin with January 2011: <b></b>Where it all began.<b></b> in the Archives.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZ0xa0lxbFqJLr2UK_qEf_hPkFBuR66fZj1hnFb55oaDTQ7nu95xNZJ1F8LWotqodwX0KdtSMWOgp1AKHXfsYRlw2dT1q2bM4OhxoZOFatrbp5KLj70L5eCs3ycb9nTCgp5ye5NXsTfzJ/s1600/RackMultipart20110421-4442-19ufzxg-0_original..jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="360" width="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigZ0xa0lxbFqJLr2UK_qEf_hPkFBuR66fZj1hnFb55oaDTQ7nu95xNZJ1F8LWotqodwX0KdtSMWOgp1AKHXfsYRlw2dT1q2bM4OhxoZOFatrbp5KLj70L5eCs3ycb9nTCgp5ye5NXsTfzJ/s1600/RackMultipart20110421-4442-19ufzxg-0_original..jpeg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-67099681673382124352012-01-01T19:45:00.000-05:002012-01-01T19:45:03.590-05:00The CHAOS Fairies aka Grandma and PaPa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://richardtulloch.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/chaos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="524" width="580" src="http://richardtulloch.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/chaos.jpg" /></a></div><br />
With all the talk of New Years resolutions, it got me thinking about what changes did I need to make around this crazy houseful of kids, hubby, cocker spaniel with a Mommy who seems to be waving the white flag of surrender....quite often. Still battling my leftover wounds from a car accident, I find it almost impossible to accomplish things the way, "the old me" did. It is an uphill battle everyday. <br />
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We have had a busy Christmas break and thankfully, here at the end, our parents offered to take the kids for the final weekend before everyone goes back to school and work. It is SO quiet around this house. I can actually here myself think. Hubby and I have enjoyed old John Wayne movies, sleeping in and having full control of all the remotes in the house. Heck, we even know where all the remotes are. Lol. <br />
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I find myself, even though am enjoying the absence of Chaos, thinking about the kids and what they might be doing. As I scan my fridge, I see the goofy looking Santa that my kindergartner made for me and proudly posted there on the last day before break. I recall the wonderful conversation that I had with my 4th grader on Christmas Day, in which he revealed the name of his very first crush to me, and the relief in his eyes, that I finally knew his secret. The fact that I can chuckle...NOW, that my 5 year old decided to cut his own hair on the morning of Christmas eve. Lord, gave me strength. I recall my daughter telling me this Christmas break that she is so glad that I adopted her, because, "you know how to love and give, Mommy"...she is seven. She spoke from her heart. Also, just before break, my fifth grader had to do the dreaded Science assignment in which they had to compare their inherited traits from their parents. I always wondered when this assignment arrived, how the child would feel.<br />
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We are so open with our kids about their adoptions, but even they forget most of the time that they are adopted. So, I asked him how he wanted to handle this. He said, " what do you mean, Mom.". Deep breath. Well, we can use the info from your adoption records to answer these questions, or we can just use the traits of me and Dad. He says, "why would I use the traits of anyone other than you? You're my mom. People tell me all the time that I look like you."<br />
There you have it. Problem solved. All week long, my children have touched my heart through the everyday chaos. So, as tough as that chaos can be sometimes, it's my life. <br />
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Therefore, I think that maybe for the New Year, I shall try to focus on the love and life that lives in this very chaotic house, and just hope for a visit every now and then from the Chaos Fairies aka Grandma and Papa. Happy New Year from me and my blissfully chaotic family.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-76412061078090757752011-12-21T12:20:00.000-05:002011-12-21T12:20:46.588-05:00This is LOVEThis is Love<br />
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Kris Kroeker 2005<br />
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dedicated to my child's birthmom<br />
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I know you love me<br />
You loved me from the start<br />
I know that you want the best for me<br />
I know this because you made a plan for me<br />
A plan so I would grow up with my mom and dad<br />
A mom and dad you knew would love me as much as you do<br />
I know it tore your heart apart to make this plan for me<br />
I know it hurt when you put me first<br />
I know that you feel the pain of empty arms<br />
I know that my pictures are spread across your walls to try and fill the hole<br />
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You need to know that I was hurting too<br />
I felt the loneliness<br />
I felt the emptiness when my new parents held me<br />
When you were gone<br />
When I couldn't hear your familiar voice<br />
I was too little to put it into words, but I cried out for you<br />
I wanted YOU to hold me<br />
I wanted to hear YOUR voice<br />
But it didn't work that way<br />
Life gave me hurt and loneliness<br />
But you knew that your plan was good<br />
And that your love was bigger than the pain<br />
It would have been so easy for you to hold me tight and never let me go<br />
But you were too strong for that<br />
You knew what your love would do<br />
You knew the pain would heal<br />
You knew I needed my mom and dad<br />
And you knew they needed me<br />
You knew I would be loved<br />
And that when love is shared it grows<br />
I know that love<br />
I feel it every day<br />
Every time my mom picks me up and holds me<br />
Every time my dad laughs at some little thing I do<br />
When they wake me up to squeeze me in the morning<br />
And when they put me down in bed for night<br />
I know that I am loved<br />
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This is love<br />
You died inside when you showed your love<br />
You sacrificed your world for me<br />
I will always remember what you gave<br />
You gave me life<br />
You gave me my parents<br />
You gave me love<br />
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This is love<br />
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I just had to share this. Never in my life have I found a writing that spoke to me like this one. I thank the writer for sharing. <br />
<b><b></b></b><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-52127914958682963432011-12-12T09:42:00.000-05:002011-12-12T09:42:50.066-05:00No Ticking Time ClockI know that when you are waiting for your time to come for finally becoming a mother, every day can seem like an eternity. Try to remember that there in <b></b>no ticking time clock<b></b> on becoming a mother. Motherhood knows no age. When you become a mother, it is forever. <br />
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If, you don't lose heart through your waiting, your dream will come true. Embrace the journey. It is part of developing the kind of mother you will be. One who will appreciate the honor of motherhood.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-6049578483821769582011-12-02T19:37:00.002-05:002011-12-02T19:40:20.954-05:00When the world says, "Give Up".<b></b>When the world says, "Give up,"<br />
Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrcXaTI2l_nlYFgv0UNdttuRoboVuXqso24cJ894sNyGMpW0Xp2FBS-HyA2TbTH2MeGgh4RLuvlX38gQYq2mFnGMHdGna-lz_86nkumoK80k2RVjGBRmV0cN-lhDHiiUiNEae3gJwC1Y/s1600/tumblr_lc1v9yQECL1qz76g8o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="334" width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrcXaTI2l_nlYFgv0UNdttuRoboVuXqso24cJ894sNyGMpW0Xp2FBS-HyA2TbTH2MeGgh4RLuvlX38gQYq2mFnGMHdGna-lz_86nkumoK80k2RVjGBRmV0cN-lhDHiiUiNEae3gJwC1Y/s1600/tumblr_lc1v9yQECL1qz76g8o1_500.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-46179874256255402352011-11-21T10:25:00.002-05:002011-11-21T10:42:13.827-05:00The MomentThe Moment I recall first feeling like a Mom.<br />
<br />
The moment the light bulb went on for my hubby and I, was at our baby shower. Our son was one week old. Friends and family scrambled to throw us a shower, since our Jacob was a "baby drop"' we had no warning of his arrival. It was such and emotional day. At the end, my hubby arrived at the shower with Jacob so that people could meet him. What we didnt expect was the protective instincts that kicked in right away. We didn't want anyone to hold him. Upon the first request to hold, my hubby and I silently looked at each other and we knew we were in agreement. That was the moment that we knew we were Parents. I will never forget it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://us.123rf.com/400wm/220/210/bbutcherphotos/bbutcherphotos0801/bbutcherphotos080100005/2832923-hands-and-newborn-feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="286" width="400" src="http://us.123rf.com/400wm/220/210/bbutcherphotos/bbutcherphotos0801/bbutcherphotos080100005/2832923-hands-and-newborn-feet.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-20336153714279143602011-11-16T09:24:00.000-05:002011-11-16T09:24:11.842-05:00Patchwork Quilt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://weewonderfuls.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/childrensartquilt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="553" width="385" src="http://weewonderfuls.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/childrensartquilt.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<b></b>PATCHWORK QUILT <br />
Our family’s like a patchwork quilt,<br />
With kindness gently sewn.<br />
Each piece is an original,<br />
With beauty of its own.<br />
With threads of warmth and happiness,<br />
It’s tightly stitched together.<br />
To last in love throughout the years,<br />
Our family is Forever.<b></b><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-48969237884851292402011-11-15T12:35:00.000-05:002011-11-15T12:35:41.258-05:00Mom vs Christmas ClosetMom versus Christmas Present Closet<br />
<br />
It is my own damn fault. I start Christmas shopping in August every year. Yep, I am one of those. Trouble is, I have reached the point where I need to "get serious" about what I need to buy. With four kids, it can be overwhelming to "be fair", yet get what they want. I have repeatedly done the mad dash from trunk to closet, shoving the bags ANYWHERE, I can. My hubby won't even go near that closet. Says, he is better off not knowing. Lol. He's so smart. <br />
<br />
This morning, I tackled the closet. With my back issues,it took me over two hours to sort, list and repack in bins for each recipient. Ah...Order can be so therapeutic. <br />
<br />
Mom vs Christmas Closet.....MOM WON!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AEFspf4Ie1JPhuXB0brF-6Nl51UMfsQ1bwdxcNJyHapk5b9XDXcZW8hQbdyMXP3-SOnKn6BJXS0JYat-GgikwANa0wGh4nZzkJ1WMyfSUTFRf8khCq85NBOSNgyHDzF-clCtWwVc1dfh/s1600/closet+overflowing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AEFspf4Ie1JPhuXB0brF-6Nl51UMfsQ1bwdxcNJyHapk5b9XDXcZW8hQbdyMXP3-SOnKn6BJXS0JYat-GgikwANa0wGh4nZzkJ1WMyfSUTFRf8khCq85NBOSNgyHDzF-clCtWwVc1dfh/s1600/closet+overflowing.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-70209878609288519342011-11-14T18:59:00.009-05:002011-11-14T19:15:44.673-05:00Hijacked Inspiration<b><i></i></b>"Everyone who wants to do good to the human race always ends in universal bullying."<br />
<br />
This is a tough place to find yourself as a parent. We want to teach our children to go out into the world and make a difference. The reality is that they may be disappointed in the reception they receive. Will it discourage them? It discourages me sometimes. I was inspired. Most thought that it probably wouldn't work. I tried anyway. I guess , in some ways, they were right.<br />
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<i></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.clipartof.com/small/441296-Cartoon-Bullied-Man-With-A-Target-On-His-Back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="450" width="262" src="http://images.clipartof.com/small/441296-Cartoon-Bullied-Man-With-A-Target-On-His-Back.jpg"/></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-19254185797276419852011-11-10T20:45:00.000-05:002011-11-10T20:45:19.703-05:00Eleven-Eleven-Eleven 11-11-11<b><i>This unique day has many different meanings for people all over the world. For me, it marks the day, eleven years ago, when my prayers were finally answered. My son was born. Our first adoption. He is thriving. Yes, he has questions about his origin. We take it day by day and keep it on his terms. I am going through an educational period as an adoptive mom. He is my first, so everyday is a learning experience. I don't want to be one of those adoptive moms who wears blinders about their child's feelings of abandonment and how he needs to work through them. He is having a great childhood, but I realize that, that doesn't take away his feelings or longing for his heritage. I've read that kids worry that if they ask questions about their birth family, it will hurt their adoptive parents feelings. Sad. It doesn't hurt me. It would hurt him to feel that he couldn't VOICE his feelings. That is my focus right now. Being what he needs....emotionally. <br />
<br />
So, enjoy this fun unique day. I will be celebrating my 11 year old miracle.<b><b></b></b></i></b><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-12503261387075398922011-10-20T14:56:00.002-04:002011-10-20T14:58:39.696-04:00Breakfast talk<b>My kindergartener asked me this question this morning while eating his breakfast. "Mom, on the day that I was born, did Daddy's boss give him the day off to come meet me?". "Yes sir", I said. "That's AWESOME", he said. <br />
<br />
I adore his innocence.<b><i></i></b></b><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-46220094661827000702011-10-19T02:15:00.002-04:002011-10-19T07:00:58.956-04:00Fleeting thought.....<b><i></i></b>I have spent so much time worrying about staying in tune with where my children are at emotionally in life and with their adoptions, that sometimes I forget to allow myself my OWN feelings. Watching #parenthood this week, I got lost in the scene where Kristina was giving birth and for just a moment, I felt envious. Why? The experience. That is all. Just the experience. I have everything else that comes with motherhood, but I don't have that experience of giving birth. That doesn't make me less of an adoptive mother, but just a realist. Trust me, I wouldn't change a thing. Just curious about the whole thing...you know?<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-40444353955683479282011-10-16T21:17:00.000-04:002011-10-16T21:17:48.834-04:00Wronged<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcUcwFs_6uyKhB200DQGMomuNkrd6AkyFnMCYo-eYdypPjRAInm3wDEDpORClaNrjtm8Rf_8HaJXKCGAZiRK0v4udgI_8PfwRfJjIo34qGJAUpoJhhdtnBsxE37mL_6f6NbxREwiSyjMi/s1600/strongweak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcUcwFs_6uyKhB200DQGMomuNkrd6AkyFnMCYo-eYdypPjRAInm3wDEDpORClaNrjtm8Rf_8HaJXKCGAZiRK0v4udgI_8PfwRfJjIo34qGJAUpoJhhdtnBsxE37mL_6f6NbxREwiSyjMi/s320/strongweak.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>As I have said in the past....my life changed a little over a year ago. A family car accident. I don't look any different on the outside....which makes things challenging. Most of my injuries were neck, back , knees and closed head injury. Close friends see the differences, but if you didn't know me, then you wouldn't know that my processing center was affected. I forget words that used to flow freely. Short term memory loss. I have headaches everyday. I have nausea everyday. I have confusion. Light sensitivity. Blurred vision. Severe shoulder pain. Hip and neck, thoracic and low back pain. Oh, and did I forget traumatic stress?<br />
<br />
As if that is not enough, I can no longer run with my husband. No longer play golf with my friends. No longer play soccer with my kids. Until recently, I couldn't really venture out socially. We have attempted vacations, some were complete failures, some just disasters, some went fine. It depended on the level of activity. It has been a rough year.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, I have a great team of therapists Drs. that I am working with. They are helping me everyday move towards a "new" normal for myself. Yes, it is depressing. But, I refuse to give up. Why, someone asked me. Well, I was not raised to give up, no matter what. I have four reasons to keep me going. My children. They have had to witness their mother weakened. Wronged. How do I not feel bitter? I do feel bitter, but the anger propels me forward. The kids have been through a lot with these differences in me. They are troopers. They lift me up. They won't let me sink for long. I won't lie, everyday, I think about how much this all sucks, but then, I look into their eyes and that's it. Pity party over.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffUk-EWogrT2vU_kkszGOi-iVz1h4tkZWkoqHzBtg10BDRqxof37CHqLnqT4JtXytH8Czf9_MABImTwXZkdx0fJO9w7G2gt9UdfdwwUSYLb4pu4TI9L-758K5oxubhYwgXaWZ_qfbgqqu/s1600/nevergiveUP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffUk-EWogrT2vU_kkszGOi-iVz1h4tkZWkoqHzBtg10BDRqxof37CHqLnqT4JtXytH8Czf9_MABImTwXZkdx0fJO9w7G2gt9UdfdwwUSYLb4pu4TI9L-758K5oxubhYwgXaWZ_qfbgqqu/s200/nevergiveUP.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
<br />
Why this post? I am exhausted. But tomorrow is another day. I will embrace it with all my might.<br />
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To quote my oldest son, "Mom, you are brave, no one can take away the fight that is in your heart". He gets it.<br />
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</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-53993437830354051312011-10-15T20:24:00.001-04:002011-10-15T20:50:18.408-04:00Hope<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WD_1CVQQxGIwoOUK63K1qHe2o8O6F2XN23hLIBbdZ6gEXAZFBXiDHawzA_gR3n4ij57V18LmE-kiMHz3zTGRadpfR4HY5m4J6qgmxYUKFmTo5LZr29rihJkHm-eIg7rnmGxF_rXJOYVR/s1600/hope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WD_1CVQQxGIwoOUK63K1qHe2o8O6F2XN23hLIBbdZ6gEXAZFBXiDHawzA_gR3n4ij57V18LmE-kiMHz3zTGRadpfR4HY5m4J6qgmxYUKFmTo5LZr29rihJkHm-eIg7rnmGxF_rXJOYVR/s320/hope.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Hope is an image of goals<br />
<br />
planted firmly in your mind.<br />
<br />
When looking at life before you,<br />
<br />
hope lines the paths you find.<br />
<br />
Hope is a well of courage<br />
<br />
nestled deep within your heart.<br />
<br />
When faltering in fear and doubt,<br />
<br />
hope pushes you to start.</span></strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Hope is an urge to keep going,<br />
<br />
for limbs too tired and weak.<br />
<br />
When apathy stills all desire,<br />
<br />
hope sparks the fuel you seek.<br />
<br />
Hope is a promise of patience,<br />
<br />
as you wait for distress to wane.<br />
<br />
When all you can do is nothing,<br />
<br />
hope pulls you through the pain.<br />
<br />
Hope is a spirit that lifts you<br />
<br />
should heaviness pull at your soul.<br />
<br />
When torn apart by losses,<br />
<br />
hope mends to keep you whole.</span></strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-5896376762856967212011-09-14T07:01:00.001-04:002011-09-14T07:02:00.261-04:00Transition<i>
At every point in the human journey
we find that we have to let go in order to move forward;
and letting go means dying a little.
In the process we are being created anew,
awakened afresh to the source of our being.</i><div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-50502619116189598522011-09-09T20:23:00.000-04:002011-09-09T20:23:59.291-04:00Kindergarten and Letting Go<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxlzXeCWsnXsjRJe_t7utzLijS4FWTrhlEhbckD1qyeCoSkDuFI7mI3V6U2Qjwze5o3xyotaCvRgJmynyQfddfkiBvVZj7XH6pIhy_9sUz21-3704CdvLhO9NpRTgHd8iFGaQDnBxWlR1/s1600/blog_letgo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxlzXeCWsnXsjRJe_t7utzLijS4FWTrhlEhbckD1qyeCoSkDuFI7mI3V6U2Qjwze5o3xyotaCvRgJmynyQfddfkiBvVZj7XH6pIhy_9sUz21-3704CdvLhO9NpRTgHd8iFGaQDnBxWlR1/s200/blog_letgo.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I</span> remember that crazy spring day that hubby and I brought home our beautiful baby boy from the hospital. Our fourth adoption. Third boy. I was a <strong>proud</strong> mommie. Once again it was unexpected, but joyful. He fit right in. <br />
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I remember when, at 5 weeks, my baby number four first slept through the night....like an angel. <strong>Bliss</strong>...<br />
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I remember the time when my baby number four made the big leap to big boy underwear....NO More DIAPERS. Yay! My hubby and I were <strong>elated.</strong> We had been doing diapers for 8 and a half years straight.</div>
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For years, my fourth child walked up the long sidewalk of the preschool with me to drop off his brothers or sister, year after year waiting for his turn. On the day he graduated from that preschool, I cried. Not only because I was bubbling with <strong>pride</strong>, but it was the end of an era. We would not walk up that sidewalk again.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Last kid, first day.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now</span>, as my youngest child stands on that crazy, wonderful bus stop with all the kids that have watched him go from diapers to backpack. He is headed off to Kindergarten. He now feels part of them, part of the club. He is no longer the little brother that stays back with MOM. </div>
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He hopped up on to that BIG first step of the bus, he turned back and looked at me with that smile that only he and I could really appreciate. He was excited, but he was worried about leaving me behind. We had been buddies, we had been pals, he was my lunch date everyday. We were both having to <strong>let go</strong>. I would miss him. I would miss him A LOT.</div>
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For years, many told me that this day would come. The day that I would walk back from the bus stop to an empty house. Honestly, it seemed like forever til that day would come. Secretly, I longed for it to come. And here it is. I was never sure how I would feel. I always thought that I would go skipping through the house singing and dancing. In all actuality....I don't know what to do with myself. Today was day three. Still lost.</div>
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This morning as he ate his breakfast, between bites, he asked me, "so, what do you do while I am gone?". I paused. Thought about it. Then, I said, "Well....I miss you, but I take care of everything so that I can hurry to that bus stop to greet you at the end of your day". He nodded his head in approval and then, finished his breakfast. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Letting go......</em></span></strong></td></tr>
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I didn't want to tell him that I wander the house, confused as to where to start. Do I do all those projects that I used to only dream about tackling? Do I sit on the couch and eat bon bons, because, I have worked 11 years 24/7 without weekends off and I DESERVE to RELAX? Do I take it slow and figure it out one day at a time? I am still pondering.....trying to <strong>let go</strong> of a very important phase of my life... the one where you are preparing them for going off into the world <span style="font-size: large;">without </span>you. </div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-38658734055030465332011-09-02T19:08:00.000-04:002011-09-02T20:48:09.075-04:00The Game of LIFE<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I must share a great moment with you. My nine year old, who is quite the intelligent child.... Lord knows, he didn't get it from me. <em>That is adoption humor, in case you are wondering. ha ha.</em> Anyways, he has had many questions lately. They run the gamut from, "Am I Polish?" to ......"do birthmom's change their minds about adoption?". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Lately, I just wear my <em>Adoptive Mom Armor</em> and charge right in to the gauntlet of adoption questions from my children. I joke, but, you have to. A sense of humor is required for this job. Anytime they ask if they can have "a private talk" at bedtime with me, I excuse myself briefly and run into my room, take a deep breath and then.....head back bedside. I am not nervous about their questions, I just like to be relaxed when we have these talks. As I said at the beginning, he is very smart and difficult to give vague answers to. With him, I must be prepared for 20 questions and bucket loads of why's.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">His favorite game to play with me is LIFE. Ironically, that was my favorite board game as a child. It is one of his top two favorites, Monopoly being the other. So, the other night he asks me, "where would I be if Daddy and you didn't show up to adopt me?". I said,, "there would have been another very nice family who would have adopted you". He says, "but, they wouldn't have been the right family for me for my whole life, and where would my brothers and my sister be?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I told you this gets complicated.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I told him, that they could possibly have been with adopted with him, or with other families. I explained the my belief was that God brought us together on purpose. He looked at me and said, " I guess that I sure am glad that God made a miracle happen and got us all together". He wiped a tear from his face and said, "God knew Mom, that only you, would be the right mom for all four of us."</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"><em>One of my many blessings in the game of LIFE</em></span></td></tr>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A few days later, my very intelligent, insightful, beautiful son said to me while we were playing a game of LIFE, "you know MOM, I know now that it was a miracle that you found all of us, because in the game of LIFE, most people only want two kids.</span></em> </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4713701981386781400.post-61263510783538628392011-08-31T21:11:00.000-04:002011-08-31T21:11:55.012-04:00Happiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xWn0effhmjogXfLtWUFMXruqo_3O1Z-07Dl3vpmX4NuwAAZQs2ODZ7LSqtanN1WdyAfUOOYW4-i6vV9aQUUB98GDQhA9HVqsq59ZcvxUz7mkqpYVRvp81ILjoPuSwyB5y9t6t8QCSZCH/s1600/bloghappiness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xWn0effhmjogXfLtWUFMXruqo_3O1Z-07Dl3vpmX4NuwAAZQs2ODZ7LSqtanN1WdyAfUOOYW4-i6vV9aQUUB98GDQhA9HVqsq59ZcvxUz7mkqpYVRvp81ILjoPuSwyB5y9t6t8QCSZCH/s200/bloghappiness.jpg" width="200" xaa="true" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let us down, probably will. You'll have your heart broken and you'll break others' hearts. You'll fight with your best friend or maybe even fall in love with them, and you'll cry because time is flying by. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, forgive freely, and love like you've never been hurt. Life comes with no guarantees, no time outs, no second chances. you just have to live life to the fullest, tell someone what they mean to you and tell someone off, speak out, dance in the pouring rain, hold someones hand, comfort a friend, fall asleep watching the sun come up, stay up late, be a flirt, and smile until your face hurts. Don't be afraid to take chances or fall in love and most of all, live in the moment because every second you spend angry or upset is a second of happiness you can never get back.</em></strong></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Treasure it.</em></span></td></tr>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Thanks for looking!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16286726167044610488noreply@blogger.com0