tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68531513244804187502024-03-05T13:46:58.020-08:00A Little Rukus Never Hurt AnybodyNatalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-81915127931104303332017-03-17T06:03:00.002-07:002017-03-17T06:03:46.372-07:00Oh my WORD!!!!<div style="text-align: center;">
So let's state the obvious...I'm LAME. It's not an opinion, it's a fact. I have not blogged in years and I've certainly had a lot to blog about. I mean the last time that I blogged it was about us moving back to CA from Texas. Which seems so long ago. </div>
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Here's a quick life update: </div>
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I had a 4th baby, her name is Iris</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi132cqrwGuLg830ql-pPfyEkhuHGoOlegemWKNLTt0YVidLH7DxT4KUclw_Gbm7EssS-oCQHWbsCuoTaHyoT7UxDysMXupH4FyNHEQZ1gpuJsHlVD71QL1hMDxV4uFW24oJGAC0gheIIOf/s1600/big+brown+eyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi132cqrwGuLg830ql-pPfyEkhuHGoOlegemWKNLTt0YVidLH7DxT4KUclw_Gbm7EssS-oCQHWbsCuoTaHyoT7UxDysMXupH4FyNHEQZ1gpuJsHlVD71QL1hMDxV4uFW24oJGAC0gheIIOf/s320/big+brown+eyes.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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.....and she's the cutest. </div>
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After living in California for 4 more years, we upped and moved to Arkansas of all places. It does look like this</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKMvWpyGBkSQOd6BzpnjMgMnPg0zmHlAvNQOZEkp0Qq78xUSJiPbnX3ymCu8k4egZQ-9ONGRppw97g9GRoZ3jAiU0KXqZA1nS_q19Ns2fxiKmHEbqsBu0m6nMa6S_65zZKOYwBrlX7L7is/s1600/cadroncreek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKMvWpyGBkSQOd6BzpnjMgMnPg0zmHlAvNQOZEkp0Qq78xUSJiPbnX3ymCu8k4egZQ-9ONGRppw97g9GRoZ3jAiU0KXqZA1nS_q19Ns2fxiKmHEbqsBu0m6nMa6S_65zZKOYwBrlX7L7is/s320/cadroncreek.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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and this.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Tgm_gbcfwCNlhUibyuBlfSLYvKoaWanNsgzoNRDCedDCIx2d9cZG_7icTLaang6zJcQO4PgUlbrinub9PKM9BSA4ZfGhOaQ4n7yr0jKR1OQs0RTLJe7UO0mEp1HDHsSaFCVtyxgJjHyG/s1600/petitjean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Tgm_gbcfwCNlhUibyuBlfSLYvKoaWanNsgzoNRDCedDCIx2d9cZG_7icTLaang6zJcQO4PgUlbrinub9PKM9BSA4ZfGhOaQ4n7yr0jKR1OQs0RTLJe7UO0mEp1HDHsSaFCVtyxgJjHyG/s320/petitjean.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Oh and I stopped homeschooling last year for reasons that I will reveal later on.</div>
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Phew! So much more has happened and I'm sure that it will all come out in my future posts. </div>
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Lets be honest, who reads blogs any more? Everyone either has their own YouTube channel or does Facebook LiveStream. Maybe I should look into that, but I don't think that I'm funny enough for that kind of show. </div>
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This blog will now transform into something resembling a diary for myself. I'll post encouragements, and sometimes I'll rant on here in hopes that I don't offend anyone. I love you all and here's to hoping that I don't forget about my little blog again. </div>
Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-42592211994620142062012-08-09T20:44:00.000-07:002012-08-09T20:44:26.867-07:00Why? and the Hope That FollowsI can't believe how long it's been since I last posted. Should I apologize like I did in my last post about being a flake? Wouldn't that be a tad redundant? I think so. <br />
I can't apologize for the literal adventure that God has taken my family on in only 1 years time that has made me completely forget that I have a blog. <br />
We've been across the country TWICE in less than a year. Sheesh!<br />
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In a nut shell: We moved from California to Texas, lived with my parents for 10 months, just as we were about to rent a house in Austin, Joe's last (and wonderful) employers called him up and asked him to please come back. So we prayed about it, and willingly moved back to California lickity split. Trusting in God all along the way. <br />
We are now living in the same city as before, Joe is working at our same ol church, and we are even living in the same neighborhood as last time. <br />
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So much has happened for us, and (I'm sure like many people who know us) I can't help but wonder...What was God thinking? What is He up to with moving us all over the place? Why did He move me back to my home state that I've been praying to move back to for 5 years, surround me with people that love me unconditionally, and then move me away from them again? That's what I want to know! I know for a fact that He has a plan and I just have to trust in that. Yet, deep deep down inside I am confused and a little heartbroken. <br />
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Am I happy to be back? Yes. I'm super duper excited to do God's will and see my husband make a difference at our church. He has such a passion for what God has gifted him with and we can't wait to see how God is going to use that for Crossroads. <br />
Do I miss Austin? Without a friggin doubt, YES. I can't talk to my Mom on the phone without tearing up. I am a country girl through and through. I literally feel closer to God when I am surrounded by oak trees. I hear the Holy Spirit as I walk through open pastures. It relaxes me and I feel happy there. I love every single thing about Texas. The people, the weather, the smells, the scenery, the small towns...it's endless. I love it! It's me! I 'fit' there in a way that I never have in California. <br />
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To be 100% honest, I have not felt this kind of heartache in a long long looong time. I moved to CA 8 years ago with my husband, but I didn't miss home as much as I do now. For some reason, it's different this time. You see, about 5 years ago I started praying that we would move back to Texas. I prayed this prayer every single time that I prayed. When times got rough, I prayed it even more. Then last August, we had the opportunity to move back there. I was so happy! You wouldn't believe it. FINALLY, God was answering MY prayers. I had sat back and watched God answer prayers for my husband, my friends, and my family members, but what I most desired was never answered...until now! <br />
Completely starting over, we moved soon after in October during the most perfect time of year. Granted, something were not perfect or should I say 'ideal' because my folks are amazing. We lived with my parents the whole time in an effort to get jobs and save up enough money for our own place. This took months and months. The cool thing about it, and what validated our move back, was that God performed a miracle. In January He blessed Joe with an amazing job. It was so cool to see how God orchestrated events surrounding my hubby landing this particular job. We were blown away by he people that God used and those that He put in Joe's path! Joe's job gave us an opportunity to save like we've never saved before. We were a month ahead in our finances, and by June we had all the money that we needed to rent our own place. At this point we were so ready to get out of my parent's hair, if you know what I mean, and set down roots in Austin. Life was good!!!! I was happy!!!! My prayers had been answered. <br />
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Then, in mid June, Joe got a call out of the blue. His old employer felt lead my God to ask Joe to come back and work for them. Even though I was super duper satisfied living in Austin, I put up zero fight when God called us back to California. Why? Because that's what I do. That's what WE do as Christians. When God calls us, we go! No questions asked....right? <br />
Now, after being back in California again for 2 months, I've had plenty of time to reflect on what has actually happened to me and my family. <br />
When I am alone with my thought (which is a rarity with 3 kids) my mind wonders back to Texas. I cry often, mostly to God. I ask Him why it hurts so badly this time. Out of all the times that I had done what He had asked me to do, why is this time different in my heart? I don't want to be sad. I don't want to be bitter. I want to be joyous about all of this. God has blessed me so much. Am I just being a spoiled little brat because this time I didn't get my way? Why did God answer my prayer about moving back to Texas and then 10 months later, rip it out from underneath me? <br />
Don't get me wrong, I know that God is not mean. I understand that in the greater scheme of things, His will for all of this will be revealed to me. But right now....I'm not seeing it. My heart hurts daily. <br />
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Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, "He has made everything beautiful in it's time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end." Isaiah 55:8-9 says, "My thoughts, 'says the Lord', are not like yours, and my ways are different from yours. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways and thoughts above yours." <br />
Wow! Just wow! <br />
I can't fathom what God is doing because His plans for me are so great that it's impossible for me to see it. I can ask why all day long, but the greatest part about all of this is what is to come. I DO have hope in God's promises. Just like Jeremiah 29:11 says, "I alone know the plans I have for you, plans to bring you prosperity an not disaster (even when it feels like it in that moment), plans to bring about the future you hope for." So during all of my pain and unanswered questions, I have hope and I have faith. I've seen God's love constantly in my life. This is why I love Him. This is why I am a believer, because I have see God's love for me and I can not deny it. I do not doubt that His ways are greater than my own. I don't want to do life unless it's on God's terms. I just have to realize that sometimes it's going to be hard for me, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to go forth. <br />
If I had resisted...if I had not moved back to California, I know that something would be missing in my life. God's will would be missing. I have put aside my own desires to follow God's will and I know that that will lead me to unending joy...where ever I'm at. <br />
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<br />Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-57106150006084493022012-01-07T15:19:00.000-08:002012-01-08T12:19:00.777-08:00I know...I knowIt's been over 2 months since I last posted. I'm a HUGE flake, and I admit it wholeheartedly. I've been so busy settling into life here in Spicewood, that I've forgotten about my bloggity blog. I guess the only thing that I can do is catch up on Christmas. I'll wait on that for a sec and let you know about our journey, or should I say, God's journey for us. <br />
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We moved here because we felt lead by God to do so. This is of course something that I have been praying on for years, but I never wanted to move back home unless God wanted me too. Finally, He said 'Go!', so I did dog gone it!<br />
We've been living here for a few months with zero income. Luckily, we had enough saved up to last us for a bit, but not long. Joe was searching franticly for work, but things just never seemed to work out. He applied for chump jobs and was shocked that they didn't even call him in for an interview. Little did we know, God didn't want him to get those jobs. He had something much better in store for my husband. Just as the new year came around, my hubby was offered a job for Wave (www.wavegrouponline.com). A job that will keep him very very busy. 2012 is starting off really well for us. I'm sure that it will hold a ton of other blessings for my little family. I am so excited about God's will for our lives. <br />
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Okay, Christmas....what about it? Oh yeah...duh! It was fun and stressful all at the same time. We were all very very sick during the holidays. No fun at all! My whole little brood was cooped up in our bedroom spreading our sickness back and forth to one another. It was terrible. <br />
Sorry! Back on track....<br />
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I love Christmas because it brings everyone together, but I hate it because it costs me so much money. It's true...it does! Never the less, Christmas went off without a hitch. Here's a few pics to show that it DID happen, and we were all happy about it. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim17Na_1fAOM2u9tCKRDk_XmrA07zg9sX2lvg-wRdqnaEWDNlPRag84zLy5F1QOHl6LPSWnYvrpgVc-zdmzPTtu8YRepnmEVRtHP4uV4ejiAfrNuQr46ZQ68fkw4JkZfsyHgMk-ee8oOF8/s1600/IMG_0494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim17Na_1fAOM2u9tCKRDk_XmrA07zg9sX2lvg-wRdqnaEWDNlPRag84zLy5F1QOHl6LPSWnYvrpgVc-zdmzPTtu8YRepnmEVRtHP4uV4ejiAfrNuQr46ZQ68fkw4JkZfsyHgMk-ee8oOF8/s320/IMG_0494.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here we are seeing some Christmas lights. We kept having to reschedule going out and looking at lights because we were so sick. Poor Bella, had a fever in this picture. Of course I didn't know that until we got home later that night. Bad Mom award goes too.....!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul8bYqgbk811VuzPDsCmrG2Ip1vAT6CQd6SULqaUeHCbNplt7NEZo6xImZJt3QY-0qktSjCW38IYWZJ28OfyxfvxoQIVhHuNJL323rRwsHfxZNK0t4ePDItkeAtF4oaFStQN8ylJEkDL5/s1600/IMG_0513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul8bYqgbk811VuzPDsCmrG2Ip1vAT6CQd6SULqaUeHCbNplt7NEZo6xImZJt3QY-0qktSjCW38IYWZJ28OfyxfvxoQIVhHuNJL323rRwsHfxZNK0t4ePDItkeAtF4oaFStQN8ylJEkDL5/s320/IMG_0513.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here's Izzy on Christmas morning showing off his favorite present. </div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0N1VjZhLbuJPP7l4m4eERIQc0IsGOLHt0XOsQrZsbaF-wJqEcQEquvsR9x79BQPYLQme3CMMAz-aSrR4xjuAum-QZiGMQGONY3p4-JEUEqpxTJPVKAjpBZlBKOFZCXQuM5Y4LNInNmYv/s1600/IMG_0516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0N1VjZhLbuJPP7l4m4eERIQc0IsGOLHt0XOsQrZsbaF-wJqEcQEquvsR9x79BQPYLQme3CMMAz-aSrR4xjuAum-QZiGMQGONY3p4-JEUEqpxTJPVKAjpBZlBKOFZCXQuM5Y4LNInNmYv/s320/IMG_0516.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Bella showing her favorite present. I can't believe that my Mom got her that. Thank the Lord for Grandparents!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8QwSTcL0nZ3rgNgjxSZMJLVGV1M9BiOnG_6Uk70vNhN9nGpbszLtRSy_sw0TJY6q_R5LR8RW94fMhhJhODhtFEViPBnRZ7jhoOcli4TK8c601SeBjCU1BIIHNkYKlWx3hT6jDgo1Yewo/s1600/IMG_0520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8QwSTcL0nZ3rgNgjxSZMJLVGV1M9BiOnG_6Uk70vNhN9nGpbszLtRSy_sw0TJY6q_R5LR8RW94fMhhJhODhtFEViPBnRZ7jhoOcli4TK8c601SeBjCU1BIIHNkYKlWx3hT6jDgo1Yewo/s320/IMG_0520.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lily enjoyed the paper and boxes on Christmas morning. I knew that she would which is why I didn't get her any presents. I know....Bad Mom award! I mean come on! What kid remembers the presents that they received on their very first Christmas? NONE OF THEM! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I digress!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIf0-mQ86KLedRZi0BZkHmLKtX7KDXybFCxvQHOA2KwozrIPljhOrB3Z8COX0x5Y1Xmw-x9TXygm8foSG9AIVshgrOQEOdGEEl-_m_jU-rVZINxMPVoyeem3-mjFV-MS0Kmwx_7asUtTk2/s1600/IMG_0524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIf0-mQ86KLedRZi0BZkHmLKtX7KDXybFCxvQHOA2KwozrIPljhOrB3Z8COX0x5Y1Xmw-x9TXygm8foSG9AIVshgrOQEOdGEEl-_m_jU-rVZINxMPVoyeem3-mjFV-MS0Kmwx_7asUtTk2/s320/IMG_0524.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here's my hubby post freakout over his new Toms.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRdFQwNDoVNfahq7Bcs11FcFsvnMMarauexSpTwLBcx7JzM9hFH4GIUM8rFdDiTPmqXdS08X5y28esQMWDSyu8Zze1DAVWVHXpQsTSZCozi7qTuQQeDeHCuGqq9aBreqzxI7mIO0zp9c-/s1600/IMG_1798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRdFQwNDoVNfahq7Bcs11FcFsvnMMarauexSpTwLBcx7JzM9hFH4GIUM8rFdDiTPmqXdS08X5y28esQMWDSyu8Zze1DAVWVHXpQsTSZCozi7qTuQQeDeHCuGqq9aBreqzxI7mIO0zp9c-/s320/IMG_1798.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Bella and I had the job of icing my Mom's annual Christmas cookies. It was fun, and they were yummy. I think that I ate 50% of them. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-52zujpjDfLAgCWbtAfRZT8GZCMsCKJEnq6VdluySote8H_xex2NjjAsIdZAkXRwvmSugetirkhbodozbDiW9msMDYL9Ky2fs-KCYF8_jXhH9yzNufgX2Ql8MbXNXSz0yDqotAp1lwBVK/s1600/IMG_0582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-52zujpjDfLAgCWbtAfRZT8GZCMsCKJEnq6VdluySote8H_xex2NjjAsIdZAkXRwvmSugetirkhbodozbDiW9msMDYL9Ky2fs-KCYF8_jXhH9yzNufgX2Ql8MbXNXSz0yDqotAp1lwBVK/s320/IMG_0582.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This was at the last Christmas party of the year at my bro's house. I think that Lily and Joe were the only ones sick in this picture. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If you're keeping tabs, Joe is still sick, and the rest of us are all better. We don't know what is wrong with Joe. The doctor didn't even know. Whatever it is, it's affecting his throat and hearing. Please pray for him! He needs major healing right now. Especially now that he's working. God has blessed Joe with amazing hearing. He hears things that most people don't. His job requires his ears to be at their peak performance. Please pray!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Another great thing about this past month is that I got to see my Mom's side of the family for the first time in what feels like forever. My parents and I (yes, only me :-) ) went to Burkburnett, TX to visit my Memaw Bobbie. My Memaw is getting up there in her years and she can't take care of her farm or her farm equipment like she used to. So my Uncles set up an auction at her farm, and my Dad went to help. My Mom and I had the job of keeping my Memaw occupied during the sale. It would have been too much for her to see all of her life's work being auctioned off to the highest bidder. It was tough but necessary. Us ladies shopped, shopped, and shopped some more. It was fun! I was gone for 4 days away from my family, and when I came home my hubby greeted me with a, "Here's the baby! I'm sick and I'm going to bed." Poor guy! He's been sick ever since. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am truly enjoying being back in Austin. Now It get to see plenty of this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9RdgM1oGe1HWVpoF8dqM9iI9SQsM5WHp5yxOcXfT6vhyruODaCcquxVl2H585L2wUt_pI9uwSz9J-hRAhaTrKC_eJHpyW_NjPu3Xgt_br2xZIhoIwqUkp8XTTkm3M9IdXuRY1Y9HDD2DS/s1600/IMG_1593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9RdgM1oGe1HWVpoF8dqM9iI9SQsM5WHp5yxOcXfT6vhyruODaCcquxVl2H585L2wUt_pI9uwSz9J-hRAhaTrKC_eJHpyW_NjPu3Xgt_br2xZIhoIwqUkp8XTTkm3M9IdXuRY1Y9HDD2DS/s320/IMG_1593.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My Mom taking naps with my baby.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6jtyfkAvSyKJzm9aPjklUBYTcCHdIjo4OvG7LWq_rZ3m7DEYgIXncM016gxILBCWwi1I_NIy2DBZoDgZB_h6IwtuYBL0jcDroVJgMXnlQEBTmxf9-soaO2S_0BzdKGED8XTnqeVQFdsp/s1600/IMG_1592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6jtyfkAvSyKJzm9aPjklUBYTcCHdIjo4OvG7LWq_rZ3m7DEYgIXncM016gxILBCWwi1I_NIy2DBZoDgZB_h6IwtuYBL0jcDroVJgMXnlQEBTmxf9-soaO2S_0BzdKGED8XTnqeVQFdsp/s320/IMG_1592.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My kids playing in the lake with our dog.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0d45EX0AyKTTQHs_CvzYoyUQw-Lh2ReSarfy5cn_meZ2R-wk0UkpV4WuhTalI61SoI-9r6a9KrhtAoBick3yTuo38Uu-yuSMQQr8f59PWB94BjZjxtSdCo4g9ClXVpuCKZT9V_otswFcD/s1600/IMG_1625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0d45EX0AyKTTQHs_CvzYoyUQw-Lh2ReSarfy5cn_meZ2R-wk0UkpV4WuhTalI61SoI-9r6a9KrhtAoBick3yTuo38Uu-yuSMQQr8f59PWB94BjZjxtSdCo4g9ClXVpuCKZT9V_otswFcD/s320/IMG_1625.JPG" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and us exploring Austin together.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Since we live so far outside of town, going into Austin is like an epic event. It is totally worth it though. I can't wait to explore all that Austin has to offer. If you have any suggestions, then please share them with me. I'm always open to going to new places to eat, museums, and anything that is family oriented. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Stay tuned! My next blog will be on.......................</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-80107870734124297842011-10-26T08:58:00.000-07:002011-10-26T09:03:45.809-07:00Long Story ShortWhelp, we are back in TEXAS! Long story short, our prayers have been answered.<br />
My hubby and I lived in southern California for 7 1/2 years and we've been praying about getting back to Austin for about 5 of those 7 1/2 years. <br />
In a nut shell, my hubby and I always want to be in God's will. That is our most earnest prayer. These past few months has been crazy for us. We've known for over a year now that out house would have to go up for sale. The price of living there was just too much for us most of the time, and we had no choice but to either starve or get out from underneath our big ol mortgage. Guess what we chose? We opened escrow on our house in August. At that moment we started praying about where we would go next. Excited to see what God had in store for us. After much prayer and council, we decided that now was as good of a time as any for moving back to Austin and starting over. We prayed some more asking God for specifics, and He answered our prayers within days of our request. I've never been so certain. We aren't getting any younger, which means that we needed to do this now. We never pictured growing old in California. Austin is our home! I want to be an old lady here, riding around downtown on my scooter, complaining about the humidity. My kids are happier here. They are surrounded by family that utterly adores them. Although, they do miss their cousins in California. Which means that we will have to visit at least once a year if it's possible. <br />
Living in CA has had it's wonderful moments, so it hasn't been all bad. We've made some great friends and God has grown us so much in our maturity and in our marriage. Having access to Disneyland whenever we felt like it will never be forgotten. Season passes, baby! Both of my girls were born in CA, so it will always hold a special place in my heart simply because of that. I will miss California. I will miss having only a 60 minute commute to the mountains or the beach. I will miss my sister-in-laws. I will miss the dear friends that I was getting to know in the months right before we moved. That is my only regret. Not growing closer to the sweet friends that I had made while living there. I've met some amazing women, but I neglected to nurture those relationships because I was so consumed with my family. Was it too little, too late? I'll never know. <br />
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Since being here, we've started back with homeschool and we've begun to "church shop". Finding the right church is always interesting, because they are all so different. My hubby has also been tirelessly searching for work. Austin has a huge music scene, so you'd think that finding a sound engineering job here would be easy. Wrong! It's all about who you know. So he's trying to get his foot in the door. God has something great in store for him, I just know it. Why else would He have brought us back here? His will is so perfect. I can't wait to see what's going to happen. I pray for perserverance for my husband. For strength when things get hard and when Satan is trying to trip him up. I love Joe so much and he deserves to be happy, and appreciated for the gifts that God has blessed him with. <br />
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I am so happy to be back here. "Thank you, Lord, for answering my prayers! Thank you for teaching me patience on Your perfecting timing. I've been praying for years, and You finally answered me. Thank you!"Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-81176185323904155332011-09-28T19:48:00.000-07:002011-09-28T19:51:37.328-07:00Pitty Goo<div style="text-align: center;">Here's my baby, Lily.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFBhWTi3DZ73bYXGFCNrOE32lAHmaZ_fQBzOhCdgwChABljpxQt0Sxbk-KByVLDToyoL74JyqM2Sns2Bm65H-zBGFLl0gfA8_-zmhIA_-AzhkM_NoxgcVoSfFypkslqmgBGBKN-KNE-iS/s1600/304833_2414632416079_1559371119_2565891_635649690_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFBhWTi3DZ73bYXGFCNrOE32lAHmaZ_fQBzOhCdgwChABljpxQt0Sxbk-KByVLDToyoL74JyqM2Sns2Bm65H-zBGFLl0gfA8_-zmhIA_-AzhkM_NoxgcVoSfFypkslqmgBGBKN-KNE-iS/s320/304833_2414632416079_1559371119_2565891_635649690_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She's my pretty girl, or as I like to say "my widdle pitty goo"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She looks like her Daddy</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRirGloBOWcZ7t6rIvSKkWPlg6NZN2eFoM8SLtB1ocBYRGuXW-oicAHqs7APtN8qBQ6ODEdrRTM52Z_mFpb7xHPLUR64UG-9ZCs4In1Q5fgPro-5yfhqhSKRPlE8H0TsmL9hMYOC_vdjO/s1600/61900_1450623263198_1161738768_31070738_8066781_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRirGloBOWcZ7t6rIvSKkWPlg6NZN2eFoM8SLtB1ocBYRGuXW-oicAHqs7APtN8qBQ6ODEdrRTM52Z_mFpb7xHPLUR64UG-9ZCs4In1Q5fgPro-5yfhqhSKRPlE8H0TsmL9hMYOC_vdjO/s1600/61900_1450623263198_1161738768_31070738_8066781_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She does NOT look like me</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WeS3jm7PtDbSrHYoiqtubne252EqYS8uf_a9yvT6gNaNy4Dmrl8rUyn8etTfpSaiKFsWTfZldshlJF7uMKbf_RetzjHIY4r1wIxIHhzeQHLGc9p4kF9UegfkjExOpsZWfjJg7LMxyT5b/s1600/207135_1014196166048_1559371119_39442_4300_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WeS3jm7PtDbSrHYoiqtubne252EqYS8uf_a9yvT6gNaNy4Dmrl8rUyn8etTfpSaiKFsWTfZldshlJF7uMKbf_RetzjHIY4r1wIxIHhzeQHLGc9p4kF9UegfkjExOpsZWfjJg7LMxyT5b/s320/207135_1014196166048_1559371119_39442_4300_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am a little sad about that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">However, despite the fact that she looks like her Daddy and NOT me, she is so stinkin pretty. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can't say that she gets it from me because she DOES NOT look like me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Does this mean that my hubby would have made a very pretty girl? Hmmmmm</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Don't tell him that I said that!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-31486927955996583802011-09-11T12:33:00.000-07:002011-09-11T12:33:57.118-07:00Weddings + Las Vegas = A Pretty Cool Time<div style="text-align: center;">My hubby has been working so hard lately. His company does sound consulting and instillations for churches around southern California, and he works part time at our church at the Sound and Lighting Pastor. On Friday, he finally wrapped up a looong instillation and was very much looking forward to relaxing. However, when Saturday came a knocking, he drug himself out of bed to drive me to Las Vegas for a very special occasion. </div><div style="text-align: center;">My big brother was getting married!!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Phillip is my second oldest brother <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">yes, I am the youngest of 3 AND the only girl</span>, and I love him so so much. He's been through a lot in his 35 years of existence, and we...his family...want him to be nothing but happy. Well, he finally met a winner. That winner's name is Annie. She's beautiful, calm, cool, collected, goes with the flow, and is not high maintenance. Most importantly she thinks the world of my big brother. </div><div style="text-align: center;">What I love most about my brother is that he has always had the best sense of humor. Sometimes it's a little "in the gutter", but hey, who doesn't have their moments of "in the gutter"? He and Annie's sense of humor is what steared them to get married at The Elvis Chapel, by...wait for it...ELVIS! </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">When my hubby and I arrived we went in and sat down in this teeny tiny little white room. It was a little dated, and had your typical white wedding slatted arch decorated with fake vines and flowers. Then Elvis appeared. He was so nice and came over to shake our hands. My hubby and I could not stop laughing. It wasn't a making-fun laugh, it was a so-awesome-that-it-makes-you-giggle laugh. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> Phillip and Annie came in, gave us hugs, and then Phillip took his place at the alter. Elvis, then proceeded to walk Annie down the aisle while singing an Elvis tune that I've never heard before. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Sorry to all of those Elvis fans out there, but I'm not hip to the Elvis tunes. </span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Annie had the biggest grin on her face and it made her glow. Phillip might have been crying, but it was hard to tell because he too was glowing with excitement. I, however, was crying despite all the hip shaking that the Elvis officiator was doing. The ceremony was so sweet and wonderful. I laughed, cried, and even danced. That's right, since hubby and I were in the wedding party, Elvis asked us to dance after they said 'I DO!'. It was so great. I think that I may have looked more like Elaine from Seinfeld than Michail Baryshnikov. I didn't care. We were dancing for joy! Woo hoo!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">After the wedding was over and we signed as their witnesses, we gave them big ol congratulatory hugs and then sent them on their way to do whatever newly married people want to do.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Since we had a few more hours to kill before we needed to start heading back, we drove down the strip and ended up at the Luxor. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I've never been to Vegas so it was interesting to see the things that I saw. Being from the bible belt has allowed me and my 'baby eyes' to be sheltered from a few things. Well, thanks to Vegas, I may have just seen it all. As Phillip would say, "What IS illegal in Vegas?....Murder?" They don't call it Sin City for nothing, people. </div><div style="text-align: center;">The Luxor had an amazing Titanic exhibit going on, and since hubby is a huge<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> understatement of the century </span>Titanic fan, we had to see it. It was probably the best exhibit that I've ever been to. They created a life like walking deck, bunk room for the 3rd class, Grand Staircase like the one that you see in the movie, and they even had an actual piece of the side of Titanic ship hanging from the ceiling. It was so cool to actually imagine being there. </div><div style="text-align: center;">After all of that we discovered that we were starving. So hubby treated me to an extremely overpriced steak house. Yikes! There's also a reason why we eat at Chili's on our date nights. Next time, if there even IS a next time, we're hitting up the buffet. </div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-40276101929029213532011-09-09T18:03:00.000-07:002011-09-09T18:03:04.796-07:00Our first homeschool field trip<div style="text-align: center;">On Labor Day (useless holiday, if you ask me, but you didn't so I'll shut up!) my hubby woke up with the brilliant idea of taking the kids to an apple orchard. We've never done this in the years past, so I said, "Heck yeah, buddy!" and rounded myself and our 3 punks up as quickly as humanly possible. I also had every intention of making is a field trip for homeschool. Visions of essays and poster boards danced in my head. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We drove for about an hour and a half up to Oak Glen to the Riley Orchard #1. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJimL2s6_JDG4TAJ24CSaCjY1qgwN3Ol70pRyLlo2IfT1yS3VJclcpbtzrM5nT1RmaZOwdCF5WkbHDlxKA4JBO5ZC7Wfv_sgloGJpgd0mEI69W2kt7ztbU-LOKwd1A1H9IzLLQ7mK1WFk/s1600/100_1657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJimL2s6_JDG4TAJ24CSaCjY1qgwN3Ol70pRyLlo2IfT1yS3VJclcpbtzrM5nT1RmaZOwdCF5WkbHDlxKA4JBO5ZC7Wfv_sgloGJpgd0mEI69W2kt7ztbU-LOKwd1A1H9IzLLQ7mK1WFk/s320/100_1657.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was so purdy and purfect. I kept waiting for a hobbit to appear. It was rainy, which is a rare occurance in SoCal, and so so so green. I was in heaven! Plus, hardly anyone was there. Awesome!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We checking in with ease, got a quick tutorial on how to pick the apples from the trees without killing anything, and then set off on our adventure. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-Guvcvlma27YfHS09LcGRPndSVQPLcpPAlpvXD8erchQW8s6odHfSWakAvvpPMX6VjcXPP6kJZ7hkynIFCBt9y4qFc-zzHGvTDeMYIGTZdx5dpdTpNniwL2xRAbEnBA03MyXM2GCANmu/s1600/100_1634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-Guvcvlma27YfHS09LcGRPndSVQPLcpPAlpvXD8erchQW8s6odHfSWakAvvpPMX6VjcXPP6kJZ7hkynIFCBt9y4qFc-zzHGvTDeMYIGTZdx5dpdTpNniwL2xRAbEnBA03MyXM2GCANmu/s320/100_1634.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My hubby was determined to find the tree with the biggest apples and then strip that said tree of all it's fruits. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPalAqxYfKIGCj99tl59FgPMayDhvtXzuSPOCTBzgXM7GJD7s3-TYccvBeJWcixJxuQqC2ZfmMuQ4fb7XaRAAEn0dgQ_56_BOYDWZ6yPYspn21ywiiSaoFAAWKSbJ2AQ74WXGLNN8AQlcc/s1600/100_1636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPalAqxYfKIGCj99tl59FgPMayDhvtXzuSPOCTBzgXM7GJD7s3-TYccvBeJWcixJxuQqC2ZfmMuQ4fb7XaRAAEn0dgQ_56_BOYDWZ6yPYspn21ywiiSaoFAAWKSbJ2AQ74WXGLNN8AQlcc/s320/100_1636.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Cheese balls!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My crew did a very good job of picking some prime apples, and I had every intention of using them apples in my first ever apple pie. Ooooh yeahhhh! I really couldn't contribute much to picking because I had a 7 month old strapped to my side. I did give it a whirl once, though.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisry377tYMHzkwBxyUtswyJOUJFZz6DcmoONTIYlxJHsqCJIiCzGpAFbdmZTUYN6YSJL8Q-aYQ6Pf5FUdixteQ2tieQ4vtlFGdFIbwLisNUpWxZFgY1Ar3Ra1yA3wNi0v9oOSm6t74M7eV/s1600/100_1639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisry377tYMHzkwBxyUtswyJOUJFZz6DcmoONTIYlxJHsqCJIiCzGpAFbdmZTUYN6YSJL8Q-aYQ6Pf5FUdixteQ2tieQ4vtlFGdFIbwLisNUpWxZFgY1Ar3Ra1yA3wNi0v9oOSm6t74M7eV/s320/100_1639.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">My hair hates humidity.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1j4i9esh-Q7rfjfkPZtCWdBvCB55oiJ78-ArE_zdEKi4ooRNtpYLf1__XhOgrsj2wsS7nD5WHhYjw1LRsxR2Q_vcj3CVXxTbSgbhujTVRqjr_d1-GlasKlnuP8GcAuk4RXp1ZqMmfxte/s1600/100_1640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1j4i9esh-Q7rfjfkPZtCWdBvCB55oiJ78-ArE_zdEKi4ooRNtpYLf1__XhOgrsj2wsS7nD5WHhYjw1LRsxR2Q_vcj3CVXxTbSgbhujTVRqjr_d1-GlasKlnuP8GcAuk4RXp1ZqMmfxte/s320/100_1640.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I think that I did an awesome job considering that I was one handed for the most part. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We then ventured into the gift shop to see what else we could do besides ripping the trees bear. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyPx8O5uw622wD6Fy_IQo22VlaQWle75dGWfhmuFJEBTB7109U5ZtpGkrORCpc2RliV7S5jMtNShzGIi4Xp725P33Qb1OCtJj49sGg3nOUV858owVUFaCMOIt-1MsCIYjs43clNB5WLIe/s1600/100_1633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyPx8O5uw622wD6Fy_IQo22VlaQWle75dGWfhmuFJEBTB7109U5ZtpGkrORCpc2RliV7S5jMtNShzGIi4Xp725P33Qb1OCtJj49sGg3nOUV858owVUFaCMOIt-1MsCIYjs43clNB5WLIe/s320/100_1633.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">No, son, you MAY NOT get a coon skin hat! Do we look like the Clampits?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The lady at the counter suggested that we press some apples, and make some cider. Killer, brahhh! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My kids did such a fantastic job pressing the heck out of those apples. I was amazed by their strength and determination to squeeze, squeeze, and squeeeeezzzzeeee. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In the end, they made some pretty stinkin tasty cider. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRlVwnVD-Z0Qbe10XccssOHfKp-FNp6hJWQT8Cl7ZBjfvlQTjPa3jw-MTXzmLQR5CjZrfABkp32Ic2tqT-0dDdnWm_sF9z71Tqe6pMy81Lcnq1Ohxdiy4agOiLL9CHbojFSwpvpzsLzG1/s1600/100_1682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRlVwnVD-Z0Qbe10XccssOHfKp-FNp6hJWQT8Cl7ZBjfvlQTjPa3jw-MTXzmLQR5CjZrfABkp32Ic2tqT-0dDdnWm_sF9z71Tqe6pMy81Lcnq1Ohxdiy4agOiLL9CHbojFSwpvpzsLzG1/s320/100_1682.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After we wrapped things up at the Riley Orchard, we headed down the hill to have some lunch at a quaint, little seasonal restaurant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir65xgl-HfQAimfWNMAKLxqnV8V8ama_zAaDcs_OZMKHgXaX4ubUp_z7uXhA1Y0X6ufXk-HV-LTFWN0ZNOZfK4FpgjHY2fFMK5Z3pvNHpEVLGQKTy3th4_DJYb24itouFndsIpcUQdfwMl/s1600/100_1683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir65xgl-HfQAimfWNMAKLxqnV8V8ama_zAaDcs_OZMKHgXaX4ubUp_z7uXhA1Y0X6ufXk-HV-LTFWN0ZNOZfK4FpgjHY2fFMK5Z3pvNHpEVLGQKTy3th4_DJYb24itouFndsIpcUQdfwMl/s320/100_1683.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The food was scrumptious, but their pie was kind of a bummer. I knew that I could do better. Muahahaha!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> In the end, all that my daughter really wanted out of this day was a caramel apple. Thank goodness that they were EVERYWHERE!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The day was perfect, and my pie is cooking in the oven. We will definitely go back there if not this year, then the next. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-36248129591796492782011-09-04T08:30:00.000-07:002011-09-05T22:10:20.395-07:00Life At Home Without Money<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Getting to stay at home with all three of my punk-a-roos is such a blessing. I can't help but think back to the days when our first kid was an infant. I worked full time for an insurance company during the day, and my husband would stay with our son while I worked. When I would get home, I'd give my hubby a quick kiss, and then he'd head off to work at night. We never saw each other because we were just trying to make ends meet. I had no choice but to work. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then a few years later God blessed my hubby with a stable job, and our first daughter was born. We were blessed enough for me to be able to stay at home with her and my son. We lived in a tiny 2 bedroom apartment that was built back in the 50's in a sketchy neighborhood. Ahhh the memories!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> I'm sure that things would/could be much more stable financially if I worked. However, since I don't have a career, I've never landed a job that paid enough to be worth being away from my kids all the time. My hubby and I feel that it is more important for me to be at home and holding down the fort, than for me to work. If the hubs came home and announced that I needed to get a job, then I would head out that very second and start looking. I actually love working. I love the adult interaction and feeling like I am contributing financially to our wellbeing. But right now, in this juncture in our lives, I get to stay with my babies. Such a blessing! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">95% of the time we are living pay check to pay check. Yes, this sucks! Yes, we have debt! No, we don't have any savings what so ever! My husband works so hard constantly. He's always waking up early and coming home super late. It's a shame that things aren't better for us in the monitory sense, so that he wouldn't have to work so hard. Yet, when I wake up to my kids in the morning, and I get to spend all day with their smily faces, the financial stresses of life fade away. My husband loves the comfort of knowing that I am taking care "the home". And I love it because he openly appreciates it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Every single time that I pray, I thank God for making it possible for me to be a stay at home Mom. We make sacrifices all the time and we don't get to enjoy the finer things in life like vacations or cool toys. But, hey, in the end all of that stuff doesn't matter. We try really hard to make the most fun out of every thing that we do as a family.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What does matter is that I get to watch my kids grow. I get to have a huge influence in their lives in every aspect. I get to see their funny moments, and their sad moments. I also get to see moments like this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxU3pakz08-IYmIYRkdtdc6-4_WDpSL5ZkU7gLQcOr1Cvlbq-Uv9r2no7oZZwGN12JzHolCB5YVKL32EQnsEg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now isn't that worth it? If she was stuck with a babysitter all day long while I worked, then I would probably not even know about her new hilarious trick. I would get to see her in the morning, and then I'd get to put her to bed at night 5 days a week. I want to be there for all the day to day in-between stuff. My children are my gifts from God himself, and I intend on spending as much time with these gifts as possible, while I can. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Please do not be offended if you are not a stay at home Mom. This was not intended to make anyone feel bad at all. This is just what has happened in my life. This is simple me, being thankful that I am able to be with my kids. I know tons of women who have kids AND work out of the home. My hat is off to these women because I know first hand the aching heart of wanting to be with my kids while I worked. </span></div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-53174803601404432992011-08-27T12:43:00.000-07:002011-08-27T12:43:44.200-07:00They Grow Up So Fast :-(<div style="text-align: center;">The blessings and curses of being a Mother is seeing your kids grow up. I am so proud of my little munchkins because it seems like they are taking on more responsibility every week. However, seeing them getting older kind of breaks my heart a little because I want them around forever. I don't want them to move away. I want them to stay in my house....FOREVER. That's not realistic, and I know that, but come on! Can't a Mother dream?</div><div style="text-align: center;">My #1...my son...has taken to the role of being the big brother like nothing that I've ever seen before. He is always willing to go and check on his sisters and help them out with whatever they need. He's constantly looking over my #2's shoulder, making sure that she is doing things the right way. It drives her bonkers too. She says that she likes to do things herself, but she is so quick to run to him for help. I also can bare witness to him taking care of his youngest sister. He can't stand to see her cry, and when she fusses after she wakes up from her naps, he is ALWAYS the first one in her room. She reaches out to him, and he picks her up right on out of her crib. He even feeds her for me on occasion (like when I'm driving and she's starving). I love it! I can literally see him becoming a man....a good man. He's only 9 for pete's sake! </div><div style="text-align: center;">My #2 is growing up waaay too fast. She has already well developed crushes on Justin Beiber. She probably has crushes on some of those Disney Chanel kids who, in real life, are still milking it for all that it's worth even though they are in college already. This makes me nervous, but to be honest I'm not surprised. I had "boyfriends" when I was in kindergarten. At least I think that I did. Ehh! She wants to help me all the time, which is great, but most of the time her helping just translates into being in my way. I have given her a little chore which she hasn't started complaining about yet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9fzSpq33_HL8Hh33HFm-rRFXkT4Gl1j9MvNVt6uGN6vuOTbiGekj-Uej351wV_sEN3UOABlyxe1Uom38YVvbvR3g_FiwGy8p9MVfwcEeMK1BX0ng5q-XhqSvm-cZjQSvQFqtB659hs0h/s1600/IMG_1244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL9fzSpq33_HL8Hh33HFm-rRFXkT4Gl1j9MvNVt6uGN6vuOTbiGekj-Uej351wV_sEN3UOABlyxe1Uom38YVvbvR3g_FiwGy8p9MVfwcEeMK1BX0ng5q-XhqSvm-cZjQSvQFqtB659hs0h/s320/IMG_1244.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Scrub Scrub Scrub, little one!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She loves to play with my hair and put on makeup. Oh my goodness! It's hard for me to breath when I think about her being a teenager. She might be a little high maintenance. Oy! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The thing that I do love the most about them getting older is how inquisitive they are. They are ALWAYS asking questions about God, Jesus, yes even death because they are interested in Heaven. They are always talking about other people and what they are going through. I love hearing them speak what's on their hearts. When they are able to set aside themselves and focus on others, I can see that they truly do have giving hearts. This makes me so happy and proud. I know that when they get older and they harness their giving spirits, then God is going to bless them abundantly. I can't wait!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-12393681948261019462011-08-25T16:12:00.000-07:002011-08-25T16:12:26.507-07:00First week of home school<div style="text-align: center;">Welp, our first week of home school has come and gone. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Yes, we only have school 4 days a week. Why, you ask? It is because normally Friday is my hubby's day off, and we like to do family stuff on that day. If we have school, then we have to put off family fun until we're done. This is another reason why we are annoyed with the traditional school hooplah. We wanna do what we wanna do, darn it!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Enough of that! I want to share how well our first week went. Albeit, we did not have our curriculum to work with. It hasn't arrived just yet, so I had to take it upon myself to find free curriculum and worksheets on the internet and use those instead. My hubby told me last night that he thinks that I am awesome because I am doing this. That alone give me motivation to push onward with home school.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The most difficult part this week was trying to balance teaching different grades. This week was just a review of what they've previously learned, but finding that balance so that they could focus was a tad hard. I had to set my daughter up with independent work so that I could work with my son on the harder things. Then I had to do the same thing for my daughter. Sometimes my son would take longer to finish his work and we had to wait to move on to the next phase of learning. It was a little frustrating, but that IS one of the things that we love about homeschooling. My son can pace himself if he needs to without getting frustrated by the need to "hurry up". My daughter loved it! She would wake up every morning begging to get started. Love it!!!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then there was the struggle of home school rules. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I have only 3 rules: <b> Listen to Mom, Don't fight or argue, and above all else, Don't cry!!!</b> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> I set up a star system. They both have 3 stars up on the board. I will take one away if they break the rules. They can earn their stars back if they are loving and encouraging. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I also have a goody jar and if they are able to keep all of their stars on the board then they will get a goody at the end of the day. If they are able to keep all of their stars on the board for an entire month, then they get to have a very special "Daddy Date" with their...Daddy. My hubby quite likes being the ultimate prize. So far, they've messed up enough to loose their Daddy Date prize :-( They were able to keep their stars up there for a few days and get something from the goody jar. </div><div style="text-align: center;">What's funny is that the moment that they argue/fight, cry, or don't listen, I'll take a star down and then my son/daughter will immediately compliment each other in an effort to gain a star back. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Ahhh, I love my kids! </div><div style="text-align: center;">I am really getting a lot out of teaching them. I honestly thought that I would feel more frustration than fulfillment. It's been the opposite which is awesome. I love spending time with them and being able to witness their educational growth. I gotta say, it makes me feel kind of like Super Mom. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Here's a picture of what our classroom looks like:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNH9E9J5mI103JRUZH_sBNQxnWwzaBoQ0LhmDlnGrdDl7jNW6-nfMKZV0HWYSeSAFOyXVHtyjdulRAGUtT_MT4PDOufAJWRNjz35aJlRfwjGDp96-jHcR2GV8uZK1DI8KmVmQj_0NkUbzf/s1600/IMG_1235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNH9E9J5mI103JRUZH_sBNQxnWwzaBoQ0LhmDlnGrdDl7jNW6-nfMKZV0HWYSeSAFOyXVHtyjdulRAGUtT_MT4PDOufAJWRNjz35aJlRfwjGDp96-jHcR2GV8uZK1DI8KmVmQj_0NkUbzf/s320/IMG_1235.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Can you guess which State we are learning about this week? If you get it right, then you'll get something special out of the goody jar :-)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-55757193761474161352011-08-14T09:09:00.000-07:002011-08-14T09:09:24.834-07:00Why I Chose To Home School<div style="text-align: center;">Lately, when I've told people that I've chosen to home school I've been given the following responses, "Really? That's awesome! I wish that I could do that." and "Really? Why would you want to do that?"</div><div style="text-align: center;">So, I thought that I'd take this post and explain a little bit why I/we have chosen to home school.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The #1 reason why is for my son. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNPiL9EYV_m3dJZDhy5eMxA2YgPeDlMZ8FVSLJ9RM5WuozROOignKA4ZN3Alx0ONp48POXEfX1Q_0DVBsnzwN23u1fKLXUHqSjGkPa9YZAlYX_YQVJ8ASc2ZeIq8eQ76EcKHk6jb8yxkX/s1600/IMG_0249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNPiL9EYV_m3dJZDhy5eMxA2YgPeDlMZ8FVSLJ9RM5WuozROOignKA4ZN3Alx0ONp48POXEfX1Q_0DVBsnzwN23u1fKLXUHqSjGkPa9YZAlYX_YQVJ8ASc2ZeIq8eQ76EcKHk6jb8yxkX/s320/IMG_0249.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He is going into the 4th grade, and for the past 3 years I've had nothing but trouble from his teachers. They always seemed to have issues with him. Whether it be he doesn't sit still, he's too imaginative, he's not learning fast enough, he's too emotional, blah blah blah. </div><div style="text-align: center;">One thing that his teachers all had in common was their unwillingness to help my son. They all said that they wanted to help, but when approached with the idea of an IEP, his last teacher snubbed her nose at the idea. </div><div style="text-align: center;">The bottom line is that my son is always in his own head. He's always thinking about things and he has a hard time focusing on subjects that are not fun or interesting to him. Which only causes frustration for his teachers when they are trying to manage a classroom full of 25 + kids. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">To quote Uncle Buck: "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I don't think I want to know a six-year-old who isn't a dreamer, or a sillyheart. And I sure don't want to know one who takes their student career seriously. I don't have a college degree. I don't even have a job. But I know a good kid when I see one. Because they're ALL good kids, until dried-out, brain-dead skags like you drag them down and convince them they're no good." </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My daughter on the other hand is another story. She's only been through Kindergarten and hasn't really encountered learning difficulties yet. The only negative thing that her teacher had to say was that she talks too much. She's a girl! Get over it! She might struggle with some things, and she might not. Regardless, she can learn at her own pace and hopefully excel in learning at home. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Reason #2 is because my hubby and I like the flexibility of home school. We like that our kids can learn at their own pace without having to meet "industry standards". We also like that we can move around, if needs be, without having to make our kids change schools. The hubs and I have moved so much for work and such, and we never know what is coming next in life. We pray all the time that God will lead us to where ever He wants us to go. We are willing to move to another country if He sees fit. Homeschooling gives us a little bit of that freedom. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Another added bonus is that now we can go on vacation whenever we see fit. Since my hubby works for our church he almost always has to work on major holidays, and then we have to cram a short family holiday in before the kids go back to school. Not any more! Now we can go and stay for as long as we want without having to worry about making it home in time for school to resume. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Reason #3 is honestly for religious and personal reasons. We, by no means, want to shelter our children or preserve their innocence forever. Yet we do think that they should learn about certain things that are in this world from us......not the school system or other loud mouthed kids. It's the old "garbage in, garbage out" kind of thing. Without proper understanding of certain things in this world my kids can get the wrong ideas. You can assume what you want by the former statement, but it is what it is. It is our jobs as parents to guide our children to the Lord and the path that He has set for them. To instill compassion and love for other people and to see God's beauty in this world. Homeschooling gives us another avenue to do that. We can integrate Bible verses and Bible stories into their every day learning. This way when sin comes a knocking, they can hopefully be a little bit more prepared to understand what is going on and to battle it.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I hope that this helps those who are questioning why we are doing this. We are very excited to get started. I plan on blogging about this new life adventure as much as I can. My hope is that other Moms out there will be encouraged through my home schooling adventures. It's not as hard as you think. I know that a few years back when I first thought about doing it, I was afraid and intimidated because I am not a patient person. Bottom line, children's education is more important than my patience issue. </span></span></div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-15027451525147872312011-08-03T09:37:00.000-07:002011-08-03T09:37:47.909-07:00Is a month too long to be on vacation?<div style="text-align: center;">To be honest, I don't really know the answer to that question. I think that after 2 weeks, the "vacation" aspect turns into just being away for a stinkin long time. </div><div style="text-align: center;">This does not mean that I didn't have a great time in Texas! There were so many things that I loved about my trip. However, being away from my hubby that long was pretty unbearable. We missed each other so much and he missed so many Texas "firsts" that I wanted to enjoy with him. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Here are a few things that I did without my husband:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Roller Derby y'all</div><div style="text-align: center;">Swimming at the green of Barton Springs</div><div style="text-align: center;">Swimming at Krause Springs</div><div style="text-align: center;">Taking a ride on the Zilker Zepher</div><div style="text-align: center;">Picnic with our 2 oldest kids at Zilker Park</div><div style="text-align: center;">Getting lost in Austin....thrice</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hanging out with my CA friends.....thrice, again</div><div style="text-align: center;">Amy's Ice Cream</div><div style="text-align: center;">Torchy's Tacos....yuuuummmmmyyyy</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hey, Cupcake!...yuuuuummmmyyyyy</div><div style="text-align: center;">Vacation Bible School with a small church <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">so much better than the mega church one that my kids attended in June because they actually got to know the people who were teaching them</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">A day trip to Dallas</div><div style="text-align: center;">Getting pulled over by a Bee Cave cop for going 13 miles over the speed limit at 1:30 in the morning.....COME ON!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Having the air conditioning go out in my parents house for half the time that we were there</div><div style="text-align: center;">Baby sitting 4 kids plus my own <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">the kids loved it, but I didn't. I sure could have used his help with this one</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Our daughter's 6th birthday</div><div style="text-align: center;">Eating camp food for almost 2 meals a day for 29 days</div><div style="text-align: center;">Seeing our baby roll over <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">back to tummy </span>for the first time</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We (my kids and I) had so much fun on our "vacation". I tried to shove as much as possible into our visit as I possibly could. There are a few more things that I wanted to do, but couldn't. I will just have to wait till Christmastime <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">is that correct grammar?</span>. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'll post a bunch of pictures on my next blog post, but I just need to rest now. Yes, I'm still suffering from the the phenomenon known as "the time change woozies". </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span id="goog_89134946"></span><span id="goog_89134947"></span></div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-88829439952104081102011-06-27T13:13:00.000-07:002011-06-27T13:13:25.215-07:00Hipstamatic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRu9-JHvG5jWGdTpQf1FDktq4mG-yvSfvbKSCFLKdQEsNfgcrKiBpqQc01Imf0ijiRWUucYNfOPWf_PGRrdfIe-KmM-N_0z4G8w9HNDZA4g5L4QTf5nD1BEHcjkndontsAIDabcH2BgwT/s1600/IMG_0612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRu9-JHvG5jWGdTpQf1FDktq4mG-yvSfvbKSCFLKdQEsNfgcrKiBpqQc01Imf0ijiRWUucYNfOPWf_PGRrdfIe-KmM-N_0z4G8w9HNDZA4g5L4QTf5nD1BEHcjkndontsAIDabcH2BgwT/s320/IMG_0612.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm kind of in love a little bit with this new iPhone app. called Hipstamatic. It allows me to take analog, vintage-esk photos with my digital camera. I haven't gotten the hang of it just yet, but here are a few pictures that I've taken with it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhCtY1hUJfY69UgZP6IhztXXZ2vod5pELcoo3cLFf630iNYxmoFy167F5PG71GjeIdlppiKU5Qwvz0y4PPLEEY6OZ2ZkaH43KTYMUqEHL8q-iQ6qqm4qgLJOrwl8D_c4_vPE1wHPiBfYo/s1600/My+HipstaPrint+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhCtY1hUJfY69UgZP6IhztXXZ2vod5pELcoo3cLFf630iNYxmoFy167F5PG71GjeIdlppiKU5Qwvz0y4PPLEEY6OZ2ZkaH43KTYMUqEHL8q-iQ6qqm4qgLJOrwl8D_c4_vPE1wHPiBfYo/s320/My+HipstaPrint+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqbQ3S7jTXkAWx4N1_sAK13g3N3Bba4oOkszdbi5sk-UVY82UeJulWK1AaCLvrdUZMMePTJS2XaN3OKUPv9guPUA_o4xyRi8aMQCPD6_dJ9XPudrKBH4TvEU_ZjiYQ5rOqd09H6jWv1rh/s1600/My+HipstaPrint+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqbQ3S7jTXkAWx4N1_sAK13g3N3Bba4oOkszdbi5sk-UVY82UeJulWK1AaCLvrdUZMMePTJS2XaN3OKUPv9guPUA_o4xyRi8aMQCPD6_dJ9XPudrKBH4TvEU_ZjiYQ5rOqd09H6jWv1rh/s320/My+HipstaPrint+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pqZKIyfAQU-InDIAnLLAhtikxnnJqfJaBPe0f5lcMTI1OIz1voDxIAIfqeFD9S1wZjfa6rGSkNruUqqXQD53rJTgXcV4r12LlVXqvBE5UJF3vwsEt4VB5hw5n3kKqCc3-258uouvEf4P/s1600/My+HipstaPrint+24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pqZKIyfAQU-InDIAnLLAhtikxnnJqfJaBPe0f5lcMTI1OIz1voDxIAIfqeFD9S1wZjfa6rGSkNruUqqXQD53rJTgXcV4r12LlVXqvBE5UJF3vwsEt4VB5hw5n3kKqCc3-258uouvEf4P/s320/My+HipstaPrint+24.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UkW8Ql8h-aFhXgjzlVnYJQV18EcGnhTNKkSr94p2oeZAXeWcYQbj94VnzW_FvT52MLYpKt6OC7VY8v9zJ-Wtk5lWeqNa8hVl5YQSt-UW-AtFkToinUDbpOfkpQOR9ukUVaJ_YA8N_kzl/s1600/My+HipstaPrint+23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UkW8Ql8h-aFhXgjzlVnYJQV18EcGnhTNKkSr94p2oeZAXeWcYQbj94VnzW_FvT52MLYpKt6OC7VY8v9zJ-Wtk5lWeqNa8hVl5YQSt-UW-AtFkToinUDbpOfkpQOR9ukUVaJ_YA8N_kzl/s320/My+HipstaPrint+23.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvM1HLo8ry-dRjof9pa8Ztsl5_EKSBDiatMrebu1h5_xmgU703U9CJZ4Ek6hW5LjSHEzHRV91eQf12XOvXak6dguLSu-I3nS1AHrYBDN9tOT_iZOiffc_D6C5NUJtpvbprtlMeg3yXVpbF/s1600/IMG_0599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvM1HLo8ry-dRjof9pa8Ztsl5_EKSBDiatMrebu1h5_xmgU703U9CJZ4Ek6hW5LjSHEzHRV91eQf12XOvXak6dguLSu-I3nS1AHrYBDN9tOT_iZOiffc_D6C5NUJtpvbprtlMeg3yXVpbF/s320/IMG_0599.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTUZnNwTN9rlKOJUqkfklIH8pOAGLxWklHLr_AbA4nyeEYKkeFnND38YzIn0dBsU9APEPMhk49F9DBoEFNwnkBrtOZboqLECoLjvZGo7KsJi2t2RexHXws_7XyKVJKWOfNhcsvECTU03n/s1600/IMG_0602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTUZnNwTN9rlKOJUqkfklIH8pOAGLxWklHLr_AbA4nyeEYKkeFnND38YzIn0dBsU9APEPMhk49F9DBoEFNwnkBrtOZboqLECoLjvZGo7KsJi2t2RexHXws_7XyKVJKWOfNhcsvECTU03n/s320/IMG_0602.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-2407461475862749432011-06-21T11:52:00.000-07:002011-06-21T11:52:18.657-07:00The things that I like about Summer....<div style="text-align: center;">Summer has officially hit Southern California. Blek! Yuck! Barf! </div><div style="text-align: center;">I hate the heat with a capital H A T E! </div><div style="text-align: center;">My hubby and I are more Fall/Winter people. We love the cool weather with a capital L O V E.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There are a few things that I DO like about Summer though. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I like spending tons of time with all 3 of my punk-a-roos.<br />
I like the cool evenings<br />
I like air conditioning<br />
I like coming up with new things to keep my kids occupied<br />
I like July 4th <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">one of my most favorite holidays</span><br />
And my most favorite thing is <u>going on vacation to Texas</u></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Granted, the heat in Texas is just a intense and annoying, but my folks are there.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This year the kids and I are flying (thank you, Dad) to Austin, and we are going to stay there for the ENTIRE month of July.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am hoping to cram in a few of my favorite things to do in Texas during that month. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I like eating BBQ from Rudy's</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like eating steak at Texas Land and Cattle</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like cruising on Lake Travis</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like fishing</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like shopping with my Mom</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like TXRD <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">at least I think that I would like it.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> I've never seen roller derby and I've always wanted to. This just might be the year!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I like exploring downtown Austin</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like staying up late around a bonfire</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like visiting with my brothers and their significant others</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like seeing all of my nieces and nephews</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like visiting the small church that my brother goes to</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like Blue Bell Ice Cream</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like sitting down with my Memaw and listen to her tell the same stories over and over again</div><div style="text-align: center;">I like seeing my best friend Dawn Marie <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">who just so happens to be visiting Texas at the same time that I am. Horray!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I also like catching up with some of my ol California buddies that moved to Austin almost a year ago....not fair</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">That's all that I can think of right now. If you can think of some other things that you know that I like about Summer then please add them in to the Comment section. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Looooves!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
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</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-78645716187966705752011-06-19T12:30:00.000-07:002011-06-19T14:17:31.655-07:00I blame it on Father's Day...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Father's Day to all the Daddy's out there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In honor of mi padre, here's a montage of pictures for you to feast your eyes upon: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bc8cPxUpDF0fmV80xF6zL1bfUDJbZoETeN7IV3R6r4UJH_4M11GHXSx5ZBAswTjUtpHRhELlw5Y7yCrzcOfK2s782QLyMFajKDtOZIGorQir6IzIitggjIIoeuPb8NSuO465_2Vo0zZ1/s1600/100_0795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bc8cPxUpDF0fmV80xF6zL1bfUDJbZoETeN7IV3R6r4UJH_4M11GHXSx5ZBAswTjUtpHRhELlw5Y7yCrzcOfK2s782QLyMFajKDtOZIGorQir6IzIitggjIIoeuPb8NSuO465_2Vo0zZ1/s320/100_0795.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad and my kids at Tom's Farms </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2H-ZhyPyuC8e2IPs3019u9MOylCzJuKozmWB_fSQA-fulghOaGRlRyebsIOR0Faw8xwLeF_no15qOok7ZWqnHi5Vg3zHiunv8JT5cJxq8ecPR1XD8b5TS_O2MEmaCDnC87o6L53Vw6FIB/s1600/100_0929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2H-ZhyPyuC8e2IPs3019u9MOylCzJuKozmWB_fSQA-fulghOaGRlRyebsIOR0Faw8xwLeF_no15qOok7ZWqnHi5Vg3zHiunv8JT5cJxq8ecPR1XD8b5TS_O2MEmaCDnC87o6L53Vw6FIB/s320/100_0929.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He wears hats like this when he mows the lawn.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjPg_kcCqSmjmrhHJISnLP6f1aY0MPRJm3OWbFt42REWjyy3j84hUEoHxJGA2tLpZ5zzHJy4KKxA3eFthwv8rA6Ki_yvvze5MFiHgWAA7vQjd-2za3FuOId_awLk3b8MEQ-cMFkCb9-c0/s1600/100_1010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjPg_kcCqSmjmrhHJISnLP6f1aY0MPRJm3OWbFt42REWjyy3j84hUEoHxJGA2tLpZ5zzHJy4KKxA3eFthwv8rA6Ki_yvvze5MFiHgWAA7vQjd-2za3FuOId_awLk3b8MEQ-cMFkCb9-c0/s320/100_1010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad showing the boys how it's done.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVafpmiuJX6xQTZon6EzZrdYcuIAsdjIwjQaDM8Oc7fuVYK0qk1_Umygin7_gYLTocZkZ45_8QZpr7l1MqfRQmPSC_0RjBXo8rw0iP6lWIJ3ZrBa7A60lgdPCPpq4E98y5B42PfFHJq6GW/s1600/100_1011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVafpmiuJX6xQTZon6EzZrdYcuIAsdjIwjQaDM8Oc7fuVYK0qk1_Umygin7_gYLTocZkZ45_8QZpr7l1MqfRQmPSC_0RjBXo8rw0iP6lWIJ3ZrBa7A60lgdPCPpq4E98y5B42PfFHJq6GW/s320/100_1011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Look at the intensity in my boy's face. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5zPsoIUNMHNGc4sYLl_k9DGBH6pa_l4sapk1gLpnDxV7LfDd3eVFVGqWpDgHFMpYtNInOPf7Ie4dXrfTeVVe33JnaarH00ay2RIiFXATxJ6yjjGJImp-FYo6gpplNs-rxphza62Ztubp/s1600/100_3341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5zPsoIUNMHNGc4sYLl_k9DGBH6pa_l4sapk1gLpnDxV7LfDd3eVFVGqWpDgHFMpYtNInOPf7Ie4dXrfTeVVe33JnaarH00ay2RIiFXATxJ6yjjGJImp-FYo6gpplNs-rxphza62Ztubp/s320/100_3341.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Seriously! What is he doing?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS6bL28DmIteX600y2Yn87B4IvPWcfRvER7KLBF9vAbTzdOcy05_wXnP2tRTtpPH02IqO6dyHo5flrARhgIbR-5ii95KG15VL6ooGaPtzf_u0z83OqkGjmy-1B2SE0_ZMWJlKw2PNKsRDv/s1600/100_3362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS6bL28DmIteX600y2Yn87B4IvPWcfRvER7KLBF9vAbTzdOcy05_wXnP2tRTtpPH02IqO6dyHo5flrARhgIbR-5ii95KG15VL6ooGaPtzf_u0z83OqkGjmy-1B2SE0_ZMWJlKw2PNKsRDv/s320/100_3362.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That picture might still be on his desk at work. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JAMRuJzmTkw1CQaf4Kr7t0sdXRjsdBN9Iu_ZW8ouL9QYpg7ygD3HNFdXihVnhywF9ftNgEiP9QzsGL0ycyFq6kNHLDunfCHcWyMH1-uentxIucvxHhYPBmclOmUqRUNtiBR0B9vfg-19/s1600/100_4980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JAMRuJzmTkw1CQaf4Kr7t0sdXRjsdBN9Iu_ZW8ouL9QYpg7ygD3HNFdXihVnhywF9ftNgEiP9QzsGL0ycyFq6kNHLDunfCHcWyMH1-uentxIucvxHhYPBmclOmUqRUNtiBR0B9vfg-19/s320/100_4980.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad and me chilling at the park.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3G9CMDxqQJIOTO4BXOzC8TY6USG7Ym6T-gogY6GxLxDBafjCbuAniWPWD1votMzcnWlT-YwIC9upOI0neHTy8FpMZdb2htvZHJ37v9dpj_wGCbRAB2dYINwGo4dH5U0Fe34QPu3tbetem/s1600/100_6735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3G9CMDxqQJIOTO4BXOzC8TY6USG7Ym6T-gogY6GxLxDBafjCbuAniWPWD1votMzcnWlT-YwIC9upOI0neHTy8FpMZdb2htvZHJ37v9dpj_wGCbRAB2dYINwGo4dH5U0Fe34QPu3tbetem/s320/100_6735.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad and Mom at the beach</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiBdWECGz2Hh335ToIRV82foDximf-wF-m_BG-81yJrKFlWmsP7Xi7ttrD7L2VBHIASZIBF5m9LBa1fBVAI8cl9vE8epEupCTazvkBnmybJEv4rJQajfscfS29DN-VdVEJvuN5Rg9cl6k/s1600/100_6753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiBdWECGz2Hh335ToIRV82foDximf-wF-m_BG-81yJrKFlWmsP7Xi7ttrD7L2VBHIASZIBF5m9LBa1fBVAI8cl9vE8epEupCTazvkBnmybJEv4rJQajfscfS29DN-VdVEJvuN5Rg9cl6k/s320/100_6753.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad's "What's up!" face.....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Don't make fun! I was pregnant with my third right here.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXVw0CkaJ0g-H4X22McnIojxmDXxPkidDflXDWstc7Xx9ZRQtptYd22kEUxGhPCA7kDmvy6oNlt93u4kz1bqtD5NK0zkKRdQiVamKB9ahEL66-AZFavAJ9_CXquqcdu7J_qCZ1ivtaHXj/s1600/100B3433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXVw0CkaJ0g-H4X22McnIojxmDXxPkidDflXDWstc7Xx9ZRQtptYd22kEUxGhPCA7kDmvy6oNlt93u4kz1bqtD5NK0zkKRdQiVamKB9ahEL66-AZFavAJ9_CXquqcdu7J_qCZ1ivtaHXj/s320/100B3433.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No words!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5mJQ9hIjiM8eA02-TVRL07YJPQH2vNEIdp-3NmOWAWJIa-_q3USnzrzqoAJEuwZjT_Q_21UwCWARbIEljY7GUhgt8lrskKDgTg3FnfJSiHyXajAiWxwh6b6yh0Jh1q5YB1ptMqIcEH86/s1600/Dad+holding+Lily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5mJQ9hIjiM8eA02-TVRL07YJPQH2vNEIdp-3NmOWAWJIa-_q3USnzrzqoAJEuwZjT_Q_21UwCWARbIEljY7GUhgt8lrskKDgTg3FnfJSiHyXajAiWxwh6b6yh0Jh1q5YB1ptMqIcEH86/s320/Dad+holding+Lily.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad holding my baby.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FKb_HTx3nk9M_9mJfU_mdV5Jz0KzQbwQy1l5Ez5E3Cq_xYbJDSbWx_2jgKlC5QF0_LRthF9lZndZ6k1ilSsM2P22ddLLokVo421Ycby0uKTnUYcUGm1pK8KENaRVy0bp5VSe3JCUgi8c/s1600/Grandad+at+Disneyland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FKb_HTx3nk9M_9mJfU_mdV5Jz0KzQbwQy1l5Ez5E3Cq_xYbJDSbWx_2jgKlC5QF0_LRthF9lZndZ6k1ilSsM2P22ddLLokVo421Ycby0uKTnUYcUGm1pK8KENaRVy0bp5VSe3JCUgi8c/s320/Grandad+at+Disneyland.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad at Disneyland with my kiddos</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpqPfQtyIDhrzPwmnAsj4awKh9-ChBw6stfgjO6xidMl2A0IwWxf5KpIjXFJna5TAgl84dSjW4ilH9urGAOzDky33jSRoYpuc8Ha-NtpRhi3QB-nIFT2SOolL5lM8GP4GMBpRzPZsA8AF/s1600/IMG_0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGpqPfQtyIDhrzPwmnAsj4awKh9-ChBw6stfgjO6xidMl2A0IwWxf5KpIjXFJna5TAgl84dSjW4ilH9urGAOzDky33jSRoYpuc8Ha-NtpRhi3QB-nIFT2SOolL5lM8GP4GMBpRzPZsA8AF/s320/IMG_0010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad playing Santa for his younger Grandkids.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUqo9xoFGlCApxiqfqQ-10ScXzX4AGrLR_StohzZK3rTDNZ1cXjlqBNsFY7Vkyx4WHK7eXXyAGeWvrTbrkEb0STsMpg4t0PRqY5ZGgR07tpBWcyuMJi7oMFcIc3sZpNT0BApWjGamv8dG_/s1600/IMG_0119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUqo9xoFGlCApxiqfqQ-10ScXzX4AGrLR_StohzZK3rTDNZ1cXjlqBNsFY7Vkyx4WHK7eXXyAGeWvrTbrkEb0STsMpg4t0PRqY5ZGgR07tpBWcyuMJi7oMFcIc3sZpNT0BApWjGamv8dG_/s320/IMG_0119.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad and his punks. Don't mind my massively pregnant belly!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4xTDKGWSfsTht_NJAkzZkyGiTZZsVr-ygkSpxmzVo82-dHqu7_FrhpnYdPdlRZRFC2PQjPBq8l3zc7uyxhNxpcDUkmWRKl9WURb8tTzP-vZACEj1b1I0as0kT4F-iGDSmRudOUCApJeN/s1600/IMG_0177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4xTDKGWSfsTht_NJAkzZkyGiTZZsVr-ygkSpxmzVo82-dHqu7_FrhpnYdPdlRZRFC2PQjPBq8l3zc7uyxhNxpcDUkmWRKl9WURb8tTzP-vZACEj1b1I0as0kT4F-iGDSmRudOUCApJeN/s320/IMG_0177.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Again....no words! Don't mind my massively pregnant (ahem!) chest. Sheesh!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtfLjtzCBEJVTA8aBbn85hXjgPe0EWycdWeKDXGNxXiPNIYfHcneThTgQs8ypL21xnAen-_jHbbc_-a0t2tN0fQP-T1SHzNECxPLKD_Im8Agiu9Qc3MuogBo7AlJdy5gt9Ocl53h-q8mv/s1600/IMG_0192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtfLjtzCBEJVTA8aBbn85hXjgPe0EWycdWeKDXGNxXiPNIYfHcneThTgQs8ypL21xnAen-_jHbbc_-a0t2tN0fQP-T1SHzNECxPLKD_Im8Agiu9Qc3MuogBo7AlJdy5gt9Ocl53h-q8mv/s320/IMG_0192.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My brother, Phillip, and our Dad.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebLbo4-Umr9QqFWzO9T9wn0JV5j9N3LcKwTGUMRYIJRmKlZFVvLpaqaQvL8zawf22x7KKHpda81y3rT5t5ovF6Rppa6r7NoK_AXVEsPNwoIRqLp8npKEvzERRn9-ELsDpM7bn59Q6eWoD/s1600/IMG_0228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebLbo4-Umr9QqFWzO9T9wn0JV5j9N3LcKwTGUMRYIJRmKlZFVvLpaqaQvL8zawf22x7KKHpda81y3rT5t5ovF6Rppa6r7NoK_AXVEsPNwoIRqLp8npKEvzERRn9-ELsDpM7bn59Q6eWoD/s320/IMG_0228.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Goooobber!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipvyQNDSRigLWE5n5_q2D14hlILUiGQwm66Im8rCMXKf991ZfqEQZvoZKRQYkEYf8DbkEkt5Z3LHSUzk0PgSnHl9RgnLRKykqt2hjLCbSPVrvKt6PvwsV2VKRYhG-5Qm-v091SWwOfYGRZ/s1600/IMG_0245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipvyQNDSRigLWE5n5_q2D14hlILUiGQwm66Im8rCMXKf991ZfqEQZvoZKRQYkEYf8DbkEkt5Z3LHSUzk0PgSnHl9RgnLRKykqt2hjLCbSPVrvKt6PvwsV2VKRYhG-5Qm-v091SWwOfYGRZ/s320/IMG_0245.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dad bracing himself on Space Mountain.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhNJi-nuHi6AznOtqY6JOgxbuag8wLVCZGTcZHsP_rK5smTnfXSGNTZtZIAtMiCHHuKyzxUkF0dUWTEvIITi6gxw9U1bm7-iZnyzb3tgIAGH1oXLgWfvW_xkasGwAGHniruFb_Gx5ANpo/s1600/IMG_2191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhNJi-nuHi6AznOtqY6JOgxbuag8wLVCZGTcZHsP_rK5smTnfXSGNTZtZIAtMiCHHuKyzxUkF0dUWTEvIITi6gxw9U1bm7-iZnyzb3tgIAGH1oXLgWfvW_xkasGwAGHniruFb_Gx5ANpo/s320/IMG_2191.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My most favorite picture of all time.</div><div style="text-align: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPa1CXr-JnoV4kMXGESVNpJ8UEU6OrJ5iunkTQQlJBxeZ2Qqk3lQ7_KteP4peLJVKzoNKnLxj4Ia0g9MLSVtsjYWAZ1UDktwx3MMqxrh4lqpNu3vBL69YPzl8hPBo-yf0udvtQiEUOWNk_/s1600/Nana+and+Grandad+on+the+couch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPa1CXr-JnoV4kMXGESVNpJ8UEU6OrJ5iunkTQQlJBxeZ2Qqk3lQ7_KteP4peLJVKzoNKnLxj4Ia0g9MLSVtsjYWAZ1UDktwx3MMqxrh4lqpNu3vBL69YPzl8hPBo-yf0udvtQiEUOWNk_/s320/Nana+and+Grandad+on+the+couch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Soaking up the cuddles.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxAXbIOMCxmUz7RbyuyTP5mzdd2tENNe1sjXvHS28oEjZAjyv3XHvKrmgBmfVPviXWTCP3jtmHa1XTVHNlGlA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Yes, my Dad was even there when my eldest daughter took her first steps almost 6 years ago.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">There was a brief time when I was a teenager that I thought that my Dad didn't know how to handle having a daughter. Now I know, that it wasn't having a daughter that was the problem, it was the fact that I was a teenager. Lets face it....none of us are equipped to handle it when our kids turn into teenagers. My Dad has ALWAYS been there for me. Even after me being married for 11 years and no longer living under his roof, he still gives and gives and gives to me and my little family. He is a so generous and loving. He has taught me so much about what it means to be a parent. What he has done as a Dad has not gone un-noticed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I love you Dad! Thank you for working so hard, for never turning away from me when I was acting like an idiot, for loving me, for guiding me to the Lord, for loving my husband and our kids, and for always being there for us. You truly are THE GREATEST!!!! </div><div><br />
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</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-5069304448539410672011-06-17T12:10:00.000-07:002011-06-17T12:10:39.008-07:00Adventures in Dental Land<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmULEyY-DC8fmbTooBZzCrT6xkL7yIP4dqPXJF-qHNV1X9KcjXdf-OXvmNRFu8L0td23rFdtj_-rGM1GJ_asUAYPo8kOtB_CDS4VHedQmb5IQtZ5V7aavf0OL-OSAYuY7b3wDZdYQ2qqur/s1600/Photo+on+2011-06-17+at+11.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmULEyY-DC8fmbTooBZzCrT6xkL7yIP4dqPXJF-qHNV1X9KcjXdf-OXvmNRFu8L0td23rFdtj_-rGM1GJ_asUAYPo8kOtB_CDS4VHedQmb5IQtZ5V7aavf0OL-OSAYuY7b3wDZdYQ2qqur/s200/Photo+on+2011-06-17+at+11.26.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've got an owie! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My adventures into "dental land" have been a long time coming. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Over 9 years ago I broke my molar on a peppercorn when I bit into a hamburger from Johnny Rockets in Florida (worst state in the union, if you ask me). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I didn't have dental insurance then, so I never went to get it looked at. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Before this incident I never really had to worry about my dental work because my wonderful parents always took care of it. When I was under their roof, I got check ups and cleanings every 6 months like a good girl should. Funny enough, the week that I was be married, I went in for another routine cleaning and the dentist announced proudly that all 4 of my wisdom teeth were growing in. What?! When I told my Mom she said, and I quote, "Hahaha! Sorry, you're on your own now!" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Those darn wisdom teeth still remain in my mouth to this day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thanks, Mom! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lets get back on track here! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">3 years ago, my chipped molar finally started to cause me pain. I went to have it looked at and was told that I needed a root canal on my molar AND the tooth in front of it.....immediately. I drove like a bat out of hell to the oral surgeon, and charged those darn root canals onto my credit card. Dave Ramsey would not have been proud of me. A week or so later I returned to the dentist to get a crown put on them. The dentist told me the price of the crowns and I almost barfed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can not believe how much dental work costs. I never knew that Dentists can set their own prices and some of them try to rip you off. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can only hope that the dentist that I saw for years and years when I was a kid did not try and rip off my parents too. Believe you me, they had to pay for way too many cavity fillings and crowns for my ol mouth. What can I say? I was obsessed with bubble gum. Mmmmmm bubble gum! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So, of course, I didn't get those expensive crowns put on because I couldn't afford it. I went on my marry way and decided to wait it out. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Fast forward to last month. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My molar has been chipping away and falling apart for a few months now. Last month a HUGE chunk of it came off, and I was left with a stabby little toothy in my mouth. I kept stabbing my tongue and cheek whenever I would eat, or breathe for that matter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Luckily, we have insurance this time. Horray! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I went to the dentist who was assigned to us by my husband's employer. They wanted to charge me a barfarific amount too. Thanks to a few friends of mine, I got a second and a third opinion. Third time was a charm. They charged me literally half of what the first dentist was going to charge me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Last week, I went to the dentist of my choice (the cheaper dude of course) to have my dental work done. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They numbed me up and I patiently sat there thinking about how grateful that I was that this junk was finally getting taken care of. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Dentist came in and proceeded to do what he does. I knew that he was going to extract two of my teeth and then put in a bridge. My mouth was completely numb, so I had no idea what he was doing in there. He was drilling and drilling and drilling. When he was done with that, I said, "Okay! So we're done? You got the teeth out, right?" Wrong! He said that he was just prepping my front and back tooth for the bridge and that he was now going to extract the two bad teeth. Let me tell you something, extractions are NOT fun. He was pulling and pulling aaaannnd pulling. I could hear him grunting and he kept having to stop and drill at my teeth some more. He also kept grabbing paper towels to wipe the sweat off of his brow. Seriously? Then he pulled and pulled some more. I was so tense that I almost had an anxiety attack. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Normally, I am not a wuss when it comes to dental work. I was laughing with the oral surgeon during my root canal for pete's sake! I don't know why this time was so intense, but it was. I never want to have teeth pulled again. Ever! Ever! Ever! I've learned my lesson on this one, that's for sure.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I went back today to have the dentist fit me for a permanent bridge. He, without numbing me, pulled off my temporary bridge and then proceeded to scrap at my very sore gums. After the third time that I yelled, "Ouch!" I said, "You've got to be kidding me! Stop it!" Thankfully, he was done with scrapping my gums and then took an impression of the hole in my mouth for my bridge. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Whew! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's over with for now. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My hubby said that I need to demand to be numbed when I go in to have the permanent bridge put on. I'm also thinking about requesting the gas. The last time that I had "the gas" I hallucinated rainbows dancing around the dental hygienist's head. I might have laughed and pointed at them at some point, but that's between me and the dental hygienist.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This might have been what I looked like last week</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZbr_WjkjNKQpnMXFGZcdp_evQ9k3fqxDCoicaAnwUv9fFMpDaZq8ernAxG9Wbkew7AflwyHSrc9i70xHvlT6YcuKSmy-Qa3LVKv0kY4fMJ21Xr9Y8kgolSDkZXPOL3s91nwT7QSb4Lr2/s1600/Photo+on+2011-06-17+at+11.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZbr_WjkjNKQpnMXFGZcdp_evQ9k3fqxDCoicaAnwUv9fFMpDaZq8ernAxG9Wbkew7AflwyHSrc9i70xHvlT6YcuKSmy-Qa3LVKv0kY4fMJ21Xr9Y8kgolSDkZXPOL3s91nwT7QSb4Lr2/s200/Photo+on+2011-06-17+at+11.28.jpg" width="188" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-54457623589995048672011-06-08T21:04:00.000-07:002011-06-08T21:04:30.334-07:00Girl Day at Disneyland<div style="text-align: center;">Yesterday my sweet little #2 and I woke up super early. Not because we are insane, but because we had a plan. A plan to go to Disneyland without the boys...and the without the baby, of course. Duh! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My sister in law picked us up around 7:15am, and we headed out completely bright eyed and bushy tailed. Unbeknownst to us, the traffic that we were driving into was a complete nightmare. As we inched along the freeway to our destination, my daughter and her cousin (my niece) laughed and played the entire time. I couldn't imagine them having more fun than what they were experiencing in the back seat by making faces at each other. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">After an hour past our anticipated arrival time, we finally drove into the parking complex at Disneyland. The little girls were ready to go. They planned on riding Star Tours right off the bat. Disneyland had redesigned this ride and we've have been waiting and waiting and waiting for it to be unveiled. Well, to our utter dismay the line for this particular ride as 3 freaking hours and 20 minutes long. It looks like everyone on the planet and their dog were also waiting and waiting and waiting for this ride to be unveiled too. Needless to say, we will be waiting a few months for the line to die down so that we can ride this ride. Dang it! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The girls recovered from their "dismay", and all 4 of us pushed on through the intense crowd. As the day went on we rode tons of rides. My daughter even got to ride some rides that she's never been on before. We've gone to Disneyland almost 100 times (thank you season passes!) and she's never been on Indiana Jones or Splash Mountain. Thanks to some thinking ahead, I purchased some flip flops that had about 2 inches of foam on the bottom of them, and this made her tall enough to ride that dang Indiana Jones. She loved it so much that we had to ride it twice before leaving. Fantastic! </div><div style="text-align: center;">Yesterday was so much fun, and I hope to be able to escape again with my daughter to Disneyland very soon. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Here's a few pictures so that you can share in our fun:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFV-5t66cSI5KBlo-fh3AcbEUARHQbY-Ig3OYKoFxjJdS8Q9I9uud2h1gmGvHYb7t6-k8pqRgZ1DiRw0sfFTwWzQuQc4g8_YaKa98GWyGdhcstyoKLNwCzxOa8SXIHuW8J1Le608eDGON/s1600/web-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFV-5t66cSI5KBlo-fh3AcbEUARHQbY-Ig3OYKoFxjJdS8Q9I9uud2h1gmGvHYb7t6-k8pqRgZ1DiRw0sfFTwWzQuQc4g8_YaKa98GWyGdhcstyoKLNwCzxOa8SXIHuW8J1Le608eDGON/s320/web-1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Carousel fun</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5KMM9JyUW1e9Gj11QrDBO4zp1DbaFTMVkHIogGbqal2wMSRUFl7ta9OFCAToLYacGTKPDMRu6lHq1XI0ASeO7qRn68XTD3RVgTQgtflo4MpSXuP-CJkO1wG4cIhsha8NTwGTZmHvb66A/s1600/web-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5KMM9JyUW1e9Gj11QrDBO4zp1DbaFTMVkHIogGbqal2wMSRUFl7ta9OFCAToLYacGTKPDMRu6lHq1XI0ASeO7qRn68XTD3RVgTQgtflo4MpSXuP-CJkO1wG4cIhsha8NTwGTZmHvb66A/s320/web-2.jpg" width="273" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The funky wet ball thingy in Tomorrow Land</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXEZXsDzsnMmxwDhMg0wRlbBnzSckhhK4OMOPVKgj2g2_dFP7Jq2XAjID2Pxgs-KUIrEPOQsCe1gN9xFQD4UMeEolccTb9mP1zhMI3PSZYrMDlciXimvNWRtk4B8VYS4AjaC5vB0YrkCL/s1600/web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXEZXsDzsnMmxwDhMg0wRlbBnzSckhhK4OMOPVKgj2g2_dFP7Jq2XAjID2Pxgs-KUIrEPOQsCe1gN9xFQD4UMeEolccTb9mP1zhMI3PSZYrMDlciXimvNWRtk4B8VYS4AjaC5vB0YrkCL/s320/web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Being treated like animals on K.C. Junior</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-13387182346630319422011-06-01T13:35:00.000-07:002011-06-01T13:55:40.371-07:00Memorial Anniversary<div style="text-align: center;">I celebrated 2 important things last weekend: Memorial Day and my 11th wedding anniversary. Both are a huge deal if you ask me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'll start with the former!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Memorial Day was actually celebrated by us on Saturday the 28th. We were invited to go to a "couples + kids" beach party. My hubby had to work, so it was just me braving it alone with 3 kids. Yikes! When the reality that I would be there with all 3 kids and with zero spousal backup, really made me nervous. Then I realized that I could imagine it being hard all I want, but I would never really know how hard it was until I actually attempted to take them to the beach alone. So, I put on my Momma Bear boots, got up early, packed up the kids and headed to the beach. Incase you didn't already know this, there are about a million beaches in California. All of which seemed to be lined up right next to eachother. You can literally drive right past the beach that you want to go to without even knowing it. Knowing this made me drive very cautiously down the PCH, searching for the beach that I was supposed to meet everyone at. Luckily, I found it no problem. Phew! When the kids and I got there, it was cold, extremely windy and the sun hadn't even thought about coming out from behind the clouds. We waited it out for an hour or so and the sun finally decided to come out and play. My #1 and #2 made friends instantly with some girls on the beach. They played and played and played. I barely saw them except for when they were hungry or thought that they had been stung by a jelly fish on the butt. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhinOHNnchkfJY0lZlp3YiVabal2W4KOHvX0QguJgUipECsG1sP70ogj7SeCdN4KKgtkLI8wQJ3p9wa9kpqomzFR2uDb942K5hXiKOZilcpQiLouIL6A6rq1SQLRz8N2-3EiksHaqiqnrJT/s1600/IMG_0614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhinOHNnchkfJY0lZlp3YiVabal2W4KOHvX0QguJgUipECsG1sP70ogj7SeCdN4KKgtkLI8wQJ3p9wa9kpqomzFR2uDb942K5hXiKOZilcpQiLouIL6A6rq1SQLRz8N2-3EiksHaqiqnrJT/s320/IMG_0614.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZXVg20Kt3mFMXZLq2SMYO34Ma8UivUCDxN6OMI1JrHb0rWGxBUVxCuqRPh1GXUZJG4ky7SVF0bUFQD6pnlVxP0qhR872pKF3Z2M9TLuDAqSvVSKnBXozJHBwXuZoMu_lA8-swUvzUV9H/s1600/IMG_0615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZXVg20Kt3mFMXZLq2SMYO34Ma8UivUCDxN6OMI1JrHb0rWGxBUVxCuqRPh1GXUZJG4ky7SVF0bUFQD6pnlVxP0qhR872pKF3Z2M9TLuDAqSvVSKnBXozJHBwXuZoMu_lA8-swUvzUV9H/s320/IMG_0615.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKKSgKL1Lfoim6zvaAXUorQBSkLpEJZ5TYACrqmjQrtvRftZKZAt_x7Y7uP6LSSYjaw05wvied7aSXbmXwcXiuYblkddfT1Y5FZD0rlcWhi8-bUKpxCtspD4nFIenZ1BOe5rIOiUHL0VI/s1600/IMG_0617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKKSgKL1Lfoim6zvaAXUorQBSkLpEJZ5TYACrqmjQrtvRftZKZAt_x7Y7uP6LSSYjaw05wvied7aSXbmXwcXiuYblkddfT1Y5FZD0rlcWhi8-bUKpxCtspD4nFIenZ1BOe5rIOiUHL0VI/s320/IMG_0617.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">While they were playing, I got to sit with the baby on my lap, and converse with a bunch of ladies that I had never met. We all had one thing in common, and that was that we all had kids. We just sat there and talked for hours about our babies/kids. I really enjoyed it, although one of these days I'm going to have to learn to have conversations with women that don't involve my children. For now, it's acceptable! I think.... </div><div style="text-align: center;">When the late afternoon came around, I just knew that the traffic on the 91 would be horrendous, so I made the executive decision that it was time for us to head home. I packed up all of our beach crap, loaded my exhausted kids up, hugged everyone goodbye, and headed for home. The traffic on the 91 WAS horrendous. On top of that, my baby didn't want to take a nap, but my #2 DID. The baby wouldn't stop whining, cooing, or jibber jabbing, and that made my oldest daughter very very irritated. She doesn't realize just yet that yelling at the baby is not going to make the baby be quiet. Needless to say, the ride home was about as close to hell on Earth as I could imagine it to be. </div><div style="text-align: center;">When we got home we were all ready to eat dinner and go to bed. I hoped in the shower in an attempt to get the sand out of my hair. As I stood there letting the water run through my nasty hair, I reflected on the fact that I did it. I took all of the kids to the beach by myself, and it was...wait for it....FUN. Then ut of no where, I felt my thighs stinging. I actually thought that maybe I was stung by a jelly fish too. Then I realized that I didn't even get into the water. I looked down and saw that I had THE WORST sunburn on my thighs. Ooooops! Like a complete moron, I forgot to put sunscreen on my legs. To think, I was actually proud of myself that I was wearing shorts to the beach that day. My legs hadn't seen the light of day in about a year. When I got out of the shower I saw that my legs closely resembled a lobster. Then I looked up, and saw that the one spot on my forehead that I hadn't put sunscreen on was equally as lobstery. Here I am, 4 days later, and my legs and forehead still hurt. My forehead has decided to peel too, and boy does that make me feel attractive. Not! Thank you, Jesus, for aloe vera!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now, on to the later!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Our 11th wedding anniversary was on Sunday the 29th. My hubby planned everything out and was going to keep it a secret, until I was snoopy and figured it all out. I don't know why I did that, because I love surprises. My sweet sister-in-law helped us out and watched all of the kids for us. We drove to Palm Springs and went on the Aerial Tramway up the mountain. It was so amazing! This was way better than the coffee cup that I gave to him that morning with the lyrics to "our song" printed on it. He said that he liked it, but come on! How cheese is a coffee cup? Our Tramway basket thingy had a rotating floor so that everyone in the basket could get a complete 360 view of the mountains during the ride. I wish that I had my camera with me, because the views were spectacular. There were some dark clouds that were rolling in which made for a kind of awesome doomsday kind of feel at the top of the mountain. </div><div style="text-align: center;">My hubby had made reservations for us at the restaurant up there called The Peaks. The couple who we sat next to were also there on there anniversary. We toasted to our long lasting relationships and wished each other good luck. The food was not good at all. Joe said that he had better ravioli from the frozen section at the grocery store, and my salmon tasted like it was from the Ikea cafeteria. So to make up for our over priced yucky food, we went to PF Chang's for their Great Wall of Chocolate dessert. About 10 minutes past, and our food server came back and told us that they were all out of the Great Wall of Chocolate. She then followed it up by saying that they NEVER run out of THAT dessert. Just our luck, I guess. To make up for it, our sweet server had the manager comp which ever dessert we wanted. </div><div style="text-align: center;">All in all, our anniversary was memorable. We did something that neither of us had ever done and we experienced it together, which is most important. Here's to many more years of marital bliss!</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-37528610140189662022011-05-26T16:56:00.000-07:002011-05-26T16:56:33.694-07:00Seeing My Kids More Clearly<div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes I feel like I'm loosing my mind. Now that I have 3 kids, I am starting to see things a little more clearly when it comes to my older kids. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Example #1: I am seeing that my #2 is slightly spoiled. Before having a baby, I never noticed it. She is constantly asking for things, and lately when she gets them, she then proceeds to destroy them with a vengeance. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Case in point: Her Build A Bear Workshop lamb that I spent entirely too much money on about 2 weeks ago. I found it on her bedroom floor the other day with a ton of the batting pulled out of it. I remember about 2 1/2 weeks ago when she begged me for it almost to tears. I thought, "Gee! I think that I will surprise her with a "girl date" and go to Build A Bear and get her it. She would just love that!" Now I'm regretting the whole thing. Yikes!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Another case: She has been begging her Daddy to blow up her pool in the back yard so that she could swim in it. He has been so busy, so I busted out the air compressor and did it myself. I spend almost 3 hours blowing it up, spraying it down with the hose, cleaning and scrubbing it with soap, spraying it out again, and then filling it up with water. She was elated when she saw it all set up for her when she got home from school. She played in it for a few hours and when I walked out there to check on her for the zillionth time, I discover that she had dumped a TON of dirt into the pool. When I asked her why, she couldn't tell me why. She had no idea why she put dirt in her nice clean pool that I spent 3 hour prepping for her. </div><div style="text-align: center;">In all honesty, I think that she's acting out in a way. Ever since her baby sister arrived, I've noticed my #2 whining more, asking me questions constantly (who am I kidding, she's always been a jabber jaw), climbing on me more, and purposely doing thing that she knows that she's not supposed to do. </div><div style="text-align: center;">She has been on this path of destruction for a month or so now. It's almost as if she hates her toys. How could you hate Barbie?</div><div style="text-align: center;">She's 5 (almost 6) for crying out loud. She knows how to follow the rules. Oy vey! I am hoping that by praising her more and making more of an effort to spend alone time with her will help her snap out of it. She IS such a sweet and funny little girl. She lights up my life! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Example #2: I am also seeing that my boy...my #1...is completely dependable. Horray! I barely have to do anything for him now. He makes his own breakfast, can take his own showers, do his own hair, pick out his own clothes, make a PB&J sandwich, take his sister to the park, and even...wait for it...stay at home by himself. Shocker, I know! I wasn't sure how old he should be when I let him stay at home by himself for a few hours. Then I thought about my childhood, and remembered that when I was in elementary school I did the same thing. I would walk home from school by myself, and be at home alone for about an hour or so until my parents got home from work. I just followed a very simple rule: Pretend like you're not home. Which means, don't answer the door, don't look out the window, and don't go outside until Mom or Dad get home. So, for now, I let him stay at home when I go to the grocery store. He has to follow my one simple rule too. He basically just watches TV the entire time. Last time that I did it, he called me twice because he missed me. I was only gone for 45 minutes. I love it!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now if only I could get him to feed is baby sister more often.....</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-23209103049034973852011-05-23T15:11:00.000-07:002011-05-23T15:11:26.971-07:0010 Things: My #2 Edition<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>10 Things</u></span></b><br />
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This is my #2. This is what she looks like now. My beautiful California girl!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DFovHwX3wTn2n05KMP4-0NPcVInYKF2LaiNbTBi78Pj0l_e5yoPInkWI_XhWKYTIriIoi9LsgVhgLHM6Ctg7BlisUghh4-tTs3VLf95y5tx2aDKNUlr-x86zf281wrXw4QmI34yRctRA/s1600/Bella3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DFovHwX3wTn2n05KMP4-0NPcVInYKF2LaiNbTBi78Pj0l_e5yoPInkWI_XhWKYTIriIoi9LsgVhgLHM6Ctg7BlisUghh4-tTs3VLf95y5tx2aDKNUlr-x86zf281wrXw4QmI34yRctRA/s320/Bella3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is what she looked like a long time ago. My little nose miner!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ25BY3xLZStYeooVUqDaiTASDKJpvQIxy7PFtWdgzvZFjPuuro1WCLak_9Cznwo7JSa8benv0AXJwDQSsfV1QCxVybP9laiDfa09eA20EEe6aHFaBQTPWB8f8sqvHv4uZal4jEQ_qIZH/s1600/nosepicker_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZ25BY3xLZStYeooVUqDaiTASDKJpvQIxy7PFtWdgzvZFjPuuro1WCLak_9Cznwo7JSa8benv0AXJwDQSsfV1QCxVybP9laiDfa09eA20EEe6aHFaBQTPWB8f8sqvHv4uZal4jEQ_qIZH/s320/nosepicker_2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Those days are just a memory along with her baby mullet hair-do.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1. She loves Polly Pockets like no body's business. Forget about Barbies, she wants things miniaturized. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2. She HATES anything made of potatoes <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">except for french fries</span>. Who's kid is she? Right? I mean come on!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">3. She is obsessed with the ice cream truck, and will chase that darn truck for a few blocks if I'd let her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">4. She occassionally whacks her big brother so hard on the back that it will make him cry. Girl's got strength!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">5. She loves to help me cook, and at times it's a bit trying. I'm just afraid that she'll burn her little arms trying to maneuver around the stove. I've even caught her trying to cut open a huge watermelon with a knife, and she exclaimed "Mommy, I GOT it!". Scary!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">6. She wants to be a chef when she grows up because, and I quote, she "Wants to cook for her Mommy all the time". I've got noooo problem with that!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">7. She prayed for a little sister when I was pregnant. Now that she has a little sister, she prays for her every night before bed. It's the sweetest most endearing thing EVER.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">8. She likes to be tickled. Not just a little bit, but a LOT. She doesn't want you to stop tickling her. Even if she yells, "STOP IT!", she really does not want you to stop. When you do stop tickling her you can expect a little bit of whining to ensue. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">9. She knows how to work the internet, Apple TV, iPad, iPhone and iPod like a pro. It's pathetic that she's so tech savvy already at age 5. However, it was inevitable because her Daddy <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">my hubs</span> is a Mac FREAK!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">10. She says things like: "Mommy are you struhstraited?", "When are we going to move, because our house is old?", "This is boring boring boring!", and "Jesus came into my heart when I was in the bath tub. I Baptized myself!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-61693476929260870642011-05-21T17:19:00.000-07:002011-05-23T08:25:36.483-07:00Oatmeal Raisin Cookies<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Okay folks. Below is my oatmeal raisin cookie recipe. It is sooo yummy! Soooo tender! Soooo perfect! My Mom might be mad at me for sharing this recipe <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">who are we kidding...I run that risk with every recipe that I share with you :-P. </span>If you don't like raisins, like my punk-a-roos, then you can omit them if you'd like. Enjoy! </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>Oatmeal Raisin Cookies</u></span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">1 cup of Crisco shortening (Yes, Crisco shortening. NOT butter!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">1 cup firmly packed brown sugar</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">½ cup granulated sugar</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">2 eggs</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">1 1/4 tsp. Vanilla</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">1 ½ cup all-purpose flour</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">1 tsp. Baking soda</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">1 tsp. Cinnamon</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">½ tsp salt</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">3 cups Quaker Oats (Old-fashioned or quick oats. Which ever you have.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">1-cup raisins</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Preheat oven 350 degrees.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Beat together Crisco and sugars in a mixer until creamy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Add eggs and vanilla; blend well</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Combined flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt in a separate bowl; stir together.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Add the flour mixture to the sugar mixture a little at a time. Mix until everything in combined.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Stir in oats and raisins; mix until everything is combined.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Drop by rounded tbsps onto greased cookie sheet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Bake for 8-9 minutes or until slightly brown. It is important that you don't over bake these cookies. If you do then they will be grody!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Remove cookie sheet from oven, let sit on cookie sheet for 5 minutes, and then transport them from the cookie sheet to a wire rack to finish the cooling process (about 20 minutes).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">Store in an air tight container with a piece of bread to keep them from getting hard. </span></div><!--EndFragment-->Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-15946654950044374102011-05-15T17:39:00.000-07:002011-05-15T17:39:10.598-07:00Lesson learned!<div style="text-align: center;">This last week has been cray-zay! From the looks of it, this coming week doesn't look much better either. Oh dear, Lord! Let me explain.</div><div style="text-align: center;">My sweet sister-in-law asked me last Monday if I could watch her kiddos so that her and her husband could get some work done around their house. I willingly offered my services and suggested that my niece and nephew stay the night on Friday. Let me preface this by saying that I love my niece and nephew and they are very cute and sweet kids. Normally when I watch them, things are fine and all the kids love each other. Which is why I was so confident that I could handle it..no prob.</div><div style="text-align: center;">My hubby was home all day on Friday, so he was around to help me with the baby. Which was fantastic, and it gave me a chance to make cupcakes with my daughter and my niece. They made chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. Little did I know, that my daughter hates cream cheese frosting. What in the heck! Who's kid is she? The kids got along fine and they went to bed without any problems.</div><div style="text-align: center;">However, when Saturday morning rolled around, my hubby had to ski-daddle off to work. Which left me with 5 kids. In the trenches with 5 kids, apparently. 5 crazy, loud kids. 5 kids, that for some reason chose NOT to get along. 5 kids <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">who are quite lovely, normally</span>, who seemed to hate each other all weekend. I thought that I could handle it. I have been able to handle 4 of them, but when the baby is added into the mix, things get a little hairy around here. </div><div style="text-align: center;">My own daughter seemed to be the biggest problem this weekend. She refused to share anything with my niece <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">her own stinkin cousin...her best friend too</span>. I had to discipline her about what felt like a million zillion times. I felt so bad for her. I couldn't get to the bottom of what was bothering her so much. This is when all of those parenting books would have come in handy<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">.....if only I had read them..hmmm. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;">On top of my #2 being a huge booger, my littlest was so grumpy. She couldn't take good naps because all of the other kids were so loud. They didn't mean to be loud. I told them to be quiet, and they really did try, but when you add unintentional door slamming and laughter, it makes it hard for a 3 1/2 month old to snooze. Needless to say, the baby was on my hip all day long....fussing, all day long. </div><div style="text-align: center;">When the hubs came home last night, he found a very frazzled wife. Someone who was a far cry from the lovely woman that he had woken up next to that very morning. He thoughtfully rescued me from myself. He grabbed the baby, and told me to take a chill pill. If only those pills really existed. They might exist, but only in a red liquid form that is served in a wine glass :-) </div><div style="text-align: center;">This then forced me to recall that I had not had any time to myself in a long time. Not the kind of "time to myself" that is the equivalent to locking myself in the bathroom for 15 minutes while my kids pound on the door in an effort to get to me. I mean the kind of "time to myself" that requires me getting in my car ALONE and going somewhere ALONE. Be it Starbucks, the movie theatre, Target....whatever tickles my fancy. Had I realized this sooner, I might have had a good chance at not loosing my mind this weekend. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Lesson learned! I need some time to myself ASAP, and I can not handle 5 kids. At least 4 kids plus a baby. Next time, I will just have to plan it better for when my hubs is home and he can help with the bambina. Then everything should be fine. No problem...right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2P7oAOzcTHOAb5QgkLNCKmAy0YwOD4WDyEqUmOtw-neD_JpFGAr8gmP51fgiXMUUrvG_K3QpWFJW-C5OgmAucuDV81LE-9TYvUd9nBdVGB9iJO8eVp7nO2v57lHZT4Rvu-eNuoYnHEIb/s1600/Photo+on+2011-05-15+at+17.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2P7oAOzcTHOAb5QgkLNCKmAy0YwOD4WDyEqUmOtw-neD_JpFGAr8gmP51fgiXMUUrvG_K3QpWFJW-C5OgmAucuDV81LE-9TYvUd9nBdVGB9iJO8eVp7nO2v57lHZT4Rvu-eNuoYnHEIb/s320/Photo+on+2011-05-15+at+17.17.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I may or may not have looked like this last night when my husband came home. You decide!</span></div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-54870797083102250712011-05-04T13:44:00.000-07:002011-05-04T13:44:11.419-07:00Meet the new member of our family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWsH5KAp82mzS4O03A6hXJuB7AOI2MW0jtxhxHG_qQw5wreFPEJN1pr8zK3XIfzEgECiUB4j3PKAzPJXb33EMIe9XciHxWkWIXz_VGOqeJblwpkbOVQgLitFcX5ICNroZmZWtwD1OCT5R9/s1600/Meet+Lizard+Tongue+Sidoti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWsH5KAp82mzS4O03A6hXJuB7AOI2MW0jtxhxHG_qQw5wreFPEJN1pr8zK3XIfzEgECiUB4j3PKAzPJXb33EMIe9XciHxWkWIXz_VGOqeJblwpkbOVQgLitFcX5ICNroZmZWtwD1OCT5R9/s320/Meet+Lizard+Tongue+Sidoti.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Her name is Lizard Tongue Sidoti. She has graced us with her presence several times a day for the past 13 weeks. We adore her, and the undeniable fact that she's a super cutie pie. Plus, she makes us laugh uncontrollably sometimes. I would like for her to stick around for the remainder of her life. However, I fear, that she'll leave me soon after turning 18. 18 years is far too short of a time for me to spend with ol Lizard Tongue. I think that I just might love her....</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-84730872590581047962011-05-02T15:44:00.000-07:002011-05-02T15:44:27.238-07:00This week in retrospect...already<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFBVkLhZZHDjwUvqVrF_uuzmn92DT7ws3MqSnyf5uLaDgivcxApvlYL3HpX4H4XIDmOMFhiGiDD3KZVw-_Hn0EUp2y5ytqF40tp7kiobKPOn9Ky61aLnJZjqd6kjURUPtiYej_2dCO4ZV/s1600/Photo+on+2011-05-02+at+15.33+%25232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFBVkLhZZHDjwUvqVrF_uuzmn92DT7ws3MqSnyf5uLaDgivcxApvlYL3HpX4H4XIDmOMFhiGiDD3KZVw-_Hn0EUp2y5ytqF40tp7kiobKPOn9Ky61aLnJZjqd6kjURUPtiYej_2dCO4ZV/s320/Photo+on+2011-05-02+at+15.33+%25232.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I know that it's Monday, but I feel like so much has happened already this week that has/will put me on an emotional roller coaster.</div><div style="text-align: center;">First, the Royal Wedding. I cried like a baby because Catherine Middleton looked so beautiful, and her and Prince William are so in love. Swoon! True love makes me so happy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Second, Osama Bin Laden.....enough said. I feel so conflicted about this right now. I want to be happy like so many other Americans, but I'm not. I almost feel saddened by the whole thing. I understand that what he did and the orders that were carried out by his direction caused the US great loss and tragedy. We would not be at war right now had he not done what he did. I feel sad because of all our soldiers who have and did risked their lives for us. And of course for all of those who were stripped of their lives on 9/11/01. However, I can't help but think about Osama's salvation. I know for a fact that he is in Hell right now. That all of the things that he believed in and taught other people about are completely false and it is blindingly obvious to him right now. Justice is finally being served because Osama has stood before the Savior and he had been judged. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I just wonder what if. What if he knew Jesus? He had such great influence on so many people world wide. What if he used that influence to show people about God's love? Can you imagine how amazing that would have been? In my opinion, this is another leader gone to waste. This is what makes me so terribly sad. </div><div style="text-align: center;">There! I've said my peace on this subject.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thirdly, tomorrow is the celebration service for my hubby's Godmother who passed away 2 weeks ago. She was an amazing Godly woman who was suffering from cervical cancer for I don't know how long. She is with the Lord now and pain free. No more sorrow. No more suffering. Just unimaginable happiness. Knowing this makes me happy. However, knowing that her husband, who was madly madly in love with her, is alone now makes me sad. I can't possible imagine what it is like to loose a spouse. Especially one that I've been with for 30 some odd years in complete marital bliss. My heart goes out to her husband. He loves the Lord too and will be with his one day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Fourthly, we are going to get away this weekend. We are driving up north, past San Fran, to visit some very dear friends of ours. They moved away before Christmas, and we miss hanging out with them so much that we are willing to drive 7 hours <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">with all 3 kids in the car, mind you</span> to see them. I can't wait. I've needed a little get away for a while now. I am the type of person who loves to try new things, and simply visiting a town that I've never been too fills that void in my life for at least 6 months. I can't wait!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Fifthly, I found out this morning that I am officially 10 pounds lighter. Not in the theoretical sense, but in the literal "10 pounds of useless fat is no longer on my body"sense. All of my whining and complaining about only loosing 5 pounds is long gone. Somewhere on this diet program that I'm on, it says to not exercise. WHATEVER! I've been walking 2 miles almost every morning for the past 2 weeks, and it had caused my body to shift into gear a little bit. Well, maybe only 3rd gear, but you get the picture. This makes me so happy, that I did a little happy dance just now. I can't wait to be back to my pre-baby weight. Plus I want to loose a little more than that, but if I can get there, then I will be most elated. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That's it! It's only Monday and I feel like I've had enough highs and lows to jump start menopause. So much has happened and much more is to come. The important thing is that I remember that God is with me through all of my ups and downs. My goal for this year is to learn to just go with the flow of life. To just relax and know that He is in control of it all, and that there is nothing that I can do about it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Peace Out!</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6853151324480418750.post-59936454768774180812011-04-29T20:35:00.000-07:002011-04-29T20:35:59.663-07:00Royal Wedding!!!<div style="text-align: center;">In honor of the recent Royal Wedding, here's me and my Prince Charming</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitt0JvvcGKUzYPphBnsFGN0jLf_t4f-SvC5R-oqvOybeRS7Fnw0ZmA1sIQdKr9ZhjV2DC8cCD87TSIo_zbsYarP_AmLznXqAplfHGLPZoXx6ytB0n7o70aB7EFgpGkpZXs-NMzuxtb024H/s1600/IMG10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitt0JvvcGKUzYPphBnsFGN0jLf_t4f-SvC5R-oqvOybeRS7Fnw0ZmA1sIQdKr9ZhjV2DC8cCD87TSIo_zbsYarP_AmLznXqAplfHGLPZoXx6ytB0n7o70aB7EFgpGkpZXs-NMzuxtb024H/s320/IMG10.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sigh! Almost 11 years ago we got hitched in Texas. Granted, my wedding was the complete opposite of what the "royal wedding" was like, but I'll never forget marrying my best friend.</div>Natalie Sidotihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02349256092082304898noreply@blogger.com0