tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58149158548119009022024-03-05T23:05:50.768-08:00From Wildfire to Burnt ToastThis is my first blog to record the fall of a dream and the rise a new beginning.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-48666089644666343162020-04-26T21:54:00.000-07:002020-05-13T22:37:16.930-07:00Day.....Forever AgoI've lost track of how many days into this <i>Stay at Home </i>order we are in. I feel blessed, antsy, content, irritated, happy, sad, amused and bored all within a days time. On one hand, I don't <i>have </i>to get up on time and get the kids out the door and teach when I'm not in the mood, but on the other hand...I miss my students. I miss routine and being around other adults. I miss being able to go to Mass normally on Sunday or any other day of the week. I miss friends, family, hiking, <i>normalcy!!! </i><br />
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<i></i>I have finally settled into a routine for teaching. Every other Friday I go to my classroom and prepare my students two weeks worth of schoolwork. I set out the packets for each student on their desks and a well prepared schedule/agenda to go with it. Every Tuesday I Zoom (is that a verb now?) with my First Graders and we have an hour long writing class. Fridays I Zoom with all my students for story time, to keep in touch with everyone and give them a chance to connect with their friends. This is the ideal goal....<br />
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However,<br />
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I have a student who I haven't heard hyde nor hair of since the beginning of the apocalypse and his work sits on his desk just waiting by its lonesome to get picked up. My first Zoom class was basically trying to figure out the ins and outs of leading a class that way and my second one was me reading a story while half of my students (and their siblings 😊) giggled while making faces at each other. I cracked up a little myself as the whole thing was just so surreal. I tried to channel my six year old self from the early 1980's envisioning story time with my teacher on a live computer screen. If someone told me then, that that is how school would be in the year 2020, I would have thought it was just an unlikely scene from <i>Back to the Future.</i><br />
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Next time I am going to tell the kids to bring their drinks, call it "Capri Sun Hour" tell everyone "Cheers!" as I hold up my own:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pg/The-Brass-Lantern-115804898448954/about/?ref=page_internal">https://www.facebook.com/pg/The-Brass-Lantern-115804898448954/about/?ref=page_internal</a></td></tr>
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Really, though, seeing all of their sweet faces made me miss them terribly.<br />
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On the home front schooling is like me asking my kids if they've brushed their teeth: they say yes, I say smile, they do, I say BS go brush them!! Where did I go wrong?! Can I rent an Asian mom who can "motivate" my kids to be self-starting A+ earning, musical instrument playing students for another month? (sorry for the stereotyping, but seriously!!)</div>
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I did, however, educate them on the importance of knowing their rights and how to make their voices heard when they feel their freedoms being trampled upon:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Washington State Capitol 4/19/20</td></tr>
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...And then I educated them on how to handle backlash from people who think differently than they.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Late night dinner and<br />
break from moving.</td></tr>
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Thursday evening at 7:30 pm, the boys got the notion to switch bedrooms with the girls. They were convinced it was a good idea and that it had to be done right THEN. I sat back and said, "Ok, if you don't want to wait until tomorrow, you are going to do it all by yourselves then because I'm tired!" So they began....</div>
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At 1:30 AM I tightened the last bolt on the fourth bed that had to be taken apart and put back together. </div>
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To their credit, they did most of it. I just had to lend a hand to speed things up so I could get to sleep.</div>
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With many of Sam's Senior year's momentous events cancelled his stepmom has decided to throw a "Prom" at their house. So Sam was intent on doing a "Promposal". I guess the invite is as important as the prom itself these days (maybe it always was?). That boy ordered some candles and light up balloons on Amazon and made a trip to Walmart for sign making materials and got to work! He devised a plan and worked it all out with his girlfriend's mom. I drove him to the dock down the road from her house, helped him decorate and waited for nightfall. It was pretty adorable.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm thinking his marriage proposal is going to be <br />
one heck of an event!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She said "Yes!"<br />
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The week ended with dinner and game night with the girls and a good friend. This week began today with going to a Mass offered privately by our priest. I can say I am truly blessed. Writing about a week that seemed monotonous and lazy makes me recognize that it was actually full of grand moments, moments that I might not have treasured if we were still living the 'old normal'. I still long for normalcy but vow not to let the <i>day-to-day </i>blur my vision and make me blind to the small but <i>grand </i>moments that make up life.</div>
Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-80990605009270051562020-03-28T17:49:00.000-07:002020-03-28T17:49:43.330-07:00Solitude vs. Loneliness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There are quotes a plenty on solitude, most of which I agree with, but this one rings especially true to me right now. I am making a conscience effort to keep the TV off today, to quit mindless social media scrolling and to focus on what is around me. Small pleasures I frequently lose sight of in the frenzy of the work week and weekend activities are revealing themselves to me in every hour of solitude that I find myself in. </div>
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My kids are at their dad's this weekend and at first I found myself at a loss for what to do. Once the household chores were done I realized I was literally walking mindless circles throughout the house...with our cocker spaniel, Jenny, following my every step. The seemingly constant drizzle is keeping me from yard work which I would love to be doing right now, but being housebound in the rain isn't so bad. </div>
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I find that having a cup of coffee is an actual activity, and one that brings great satisfaction. From grinding the beans, to pouring the hot water over the fragrant grounds, to sipping from my favorite mug as I stare outside our large floor-to-ceiling window that looks over the neighborhood. I understand why this is a favorite pastime of Jenny...staring out the window. Wow, after reading that paragraph, I feel like I must be 87 years old inside!!</div>
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After coffee, I made my way back into the kitchen to bake some of my favorite cinnamon scones. I found myself enjoying the whole <i>process</i> of baking rather than it merely being a means to a delicious end. Carefully measuring ingredient after ingredient, melting butter, lightly beating the egg, smelling the cinnamon and vanilla before adding them..it was all as therapeutic as <i>eating</i> comfort foods can be. So by now, I have decided I <i>must be a grandma!</i></div>
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<i>But then...</i></div>
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I turned on the music while the scones baked. My living room became a dance floor and I was the only one on earth. I was brought back to my younger teen years when my parents would play their music loudly and we'd plug in the strobe light (seriously, who owns a strobe light?). We would dance in our small living room like it were a night club playing all the greats from the classic rock era. During one specific New Years Eve at home a group of people showed up at our door asking if this was the party they were looking for. We said no, but you can join us. They didn't.</div>
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As I danced amidst Jenny's non-judging audience I vowed to myself, the next <i>essential </i>trip I make will involve finding a strobe light. Then I realized I wasn't 87 years old inside, I was only <i>thirteen!</i></div>
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In all seriousness though, what must be true is in the latter years of life, as well as in the early years, life's small pleasures are enjoyed to the fullest for the moment they grace. I think in the middle years, the productive, busy ones, we tend to lose sight of what makes life truly enjoyable. We are a world forced to slow down and take stock of what is important right now. I pray we never go back to <i>normal, </i>but that our new normal is will be one marked by gratitude for what we have, love of stillness and especially deep-seated appreciation for those we love.</div>
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-28437973602516273012020-03-23T20:53:00.000-07:002020-03-23T20:53:54.282-07:00One Week In...One week into the governor's imposed "self-quarentine" and we haven't killed each other yet. Today we got the news that we have 48 hours until a strict 'stay-at-home' directive is in place in Washington State. I don't really know how that will change things beyond what we are already doing (no school/work, non-essential medical procedures cancelled, no social life whatsoever).<br />
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Two days before the toilet paper craziness began, I purchased TP from Costco because we were down to two rolls. I never felt the <strike>frenzy</strike> urgency to buy it, but now, just the idea of possibly running out is gnawing at the back of my mind. On a positive note four bags of my favorite coffee arrived in the mail today, so my kids are safe!<br />
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The past week has taught me not to take ANYTHING for granted. One day you are greeting your little students first thing in the morning with a smile and a hug, the next day you are told not to hug anyone! This is torture for me. I come from a long line of huggers. From my immediate family, including my Nana to my Aunts, Uncles, cousins, Great-Aunts, Great-Uncles, third cousins you rarely see, cousin-in-laws, friends that are like family, friends of friends, people you see on the regular, I hug them all! Now, to simply walk away with a smile and a nod is just so against my MO. Here's an interesting fact about me though, if you know anything about the five love languages...mine is definitely NOT affection. I can't explain the hug thing...but it is what it is.<br />
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I went to the grocery store today to get eggs because I started making cinnamon scones when I realized I was out. I was saddened by the atmosphere in the store. People seemed to fear one another, nobody made eye contact anymore and they were careful to keep their distance (which is good at this time, don't get me wrong). But the palpable vibe of fear was what worried me, everyone seemed to look at one another in a skeptical way. I long for the days when life goes back to normal.<br />
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One rule I've had to implement for the kids is, 'You get three meals and an afternoon snack a day, that's it.' If I didn't, their five mouths would eat through our food supply like hungry termites in a rotting woodpile. That being said, I still feel like my days go like this: wake up, make coffee (everyone makes their own breakfast), clean the kitchen, do something for awhile, make lunch, clean the kitchen, say 'no' to more food, do something else, tell the kids what they may have for snack, do something or take a nap, make dinner, clean the kitchen again, do a few things, pray the Rosary, go to bed...wake up, repeat.<br />
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Is it bad that I want to be called out on a search? It would provide me a chance to see my ESAR family whom I miss.<br />
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Here's to good health everybody!<br />
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Goodnight.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hang in there, we are all in this together...</td></tr>
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-16874750609370615432020-03-20T00:33:00.000-07:002020-03-20T00:52:17.343-07:00Day 3: Work, Stewart's and Not-so Social Distancing in the Out of Doors.It was day three of this no school/work ordeal and I must say, I am really enjoying it! I got up at my own leisure today, showered and arrived at Mass for St. Joseph's feast day by 9 am. Technically, there was to be no public Mass, but I have an 'in' with my amazing co-workers and knew the 9 o'clock Mass, though not public, was still being offered. Several other parishioners wishing to give honor to St. Joseph also showed up, and the Sisters sang a beautiful High Mass.<br />
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Afterward, I head downstairs to my classroom and prepared the lessons for this coming week. Fridays our parents are to stop by to drop off completed assignments and pick up new ones, in this way we are able to continue the curriculum and finish school on the planned date of May 28th.<br />
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When my work was done, I thought I'd better stop at the store to stock up on more food, in case, for whatever reason, it becomes more difficult later on. One thought entered my mind and from that moment on, I was obsessed with a craving: Stewart Meats beef jerky and landjaegers. Of course, being that it is Lent and we only eat meat at the main meal...I can't describe my trip there as instant gratification, more like prolonged torture of the senses. Before I opened the old wooden swinging door I could smell the smoked meats and my mouth began to water. The place was packed. Nobody seemed very concerned about social distancing in that tiny meat deli with the rustic wood floors. People were talking about it, but there were smiles all around.<br />
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I pulled a number and waited for it to be called, "58...59...60?" "HERE!"<br />
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"I'll take 8lb. of ground beef, 4lb. of bacon, cheddar burger meat, 10 smoked pork chops, 3lb. steaks, 1 lb. each of Peppered, Old Fashioned and Famous beef jerky, 10 landjaegers, .5 lb. of smoked cheddar, 3 andouille sausages, one summer sausage, a small thing of smoked salmon and a pig ear for my dog please?" After I ordered I wondered if I sounded like I was preparing for the apocalypse. If I did, no shame, I will go down barbecuing!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX87Sfgy0M2OAhyEBeyEu3V0tI2kJ6OMY9whoCwji9ip9d4JovTfGHC4RiylBcnHy_Ana0YcEtLD6hW_S4euhf1eGnNGMxYWaGEIc6JCBdN6WszDFGyZac7gDWgY9hiwWPMRmVvQ9kHZw/s1600/90386185_10215203780077047_597493877166833664_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX87Sfgy0M2OAhyEBeyEu3V0tI2kJ6OMY9whoCwji9ip9d4JovTfGHC4RiylBcnHy_Ana0YcEtLD6hW_S4euhf1eGnNGMxYWaGEIc6JCBdN6WszDFGyZac7gDWgY9hiwWPMRmVvQ9kHZw/s320/90386185_10215203780077047_597493877166833664_o.jpg" width="179" /></a> "Sure! We'll have that right out!" she said it with a smile and not an ounce of judgement. I liked that gal. Her idea of 'right out,' however, and mine were quite different, but I didn't mind waiting and people-watching for the while it took her and the young man she was training to fulfill my order. From my place in the corner, I could eavesdrop quite well. The two men in front of me who struck up a conversation had both ended up travelling quite a distance just to buy their meat at the shop. Once came from near Oregon and the other from Silverdale, WA over an hour and a half away.<br />
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A woman came in and ordered all the remaining landjaegers on the tray..this had me panicking a little that her order would be filled before they had a chance to package the ones I ordered. It ended up being an unfounded fear, however, as unlike toilet paper these days, an entire new tray took its place within minutes.<br />
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I always leave Stewart Meats with a smile as I carry my heavy, paper bag filled with neatly packaged white-paper wrapped meat back to my van. I pulled out the salmon and cheese to eat on the way home...the beef jerky and landjeger would have to wait for dinner. (side note: I ended up having my main meat meal at Chick Fil A after leaving the park and still haven't satisfied my dang craving, which will now have to wait until dinner tomorrow!)<br />
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Once home, my kids hounded me for the landjaegers and beef jerky and they, being under 21 and not bound to follow the Lenten fast yet, proceeded to enjoy them in front of me (one day when they are in their prime, I will be too old to fast...insert evil laugh!)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2b2nMkEnbOJsIFgDGwVxlW0SJwY0WHP6dcsRZ7mkqrb1LHpJDViNWXKadaXaazbr80zmyp4gqv6GE4A6en-fQ4U0KSaCcCc-VLaRCHTajPhXOvk-54GhZKPxMO1O7OBaqDaFSdP5ECk/s1600/IMG_9957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2b2nMkEnbOJsIFgDGwVxlW0SJwY0WHP6dcsRZ7mkqrb1LHpJDViNWXKadaXaazbr80zmyp4gqv6GE4A6en-fQ4U0KSaCcCc-VLaRCHTajPhXOvk-54GhZKPxMO1O7OBaqDaFSdP5ECk/s200/IMG_9957.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2KM6cdElHsihuydjstLc91jq43h-j7CW_en23g_QfO9nKl4cxTN1vuwOtyL4TZ1IcIGJEm7TNBBIsdQATy0i5S-m72HwkUX740tkI10wxnQL6bRSzRLUkbD4qe0jsKSw5xc_AAAnezk/s1600/IMG_9961.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2KM6cdElHsihuydjstLc91jq43h-j7CW_en23g_QfO9nKl4cxTN1vuwOtyL4TZ1IcIGJEm7TNBBIsdQATy0i5S-m72HwkUX740tkI10wxnQL6bRSzRLUkbD4qe0jsKSw5xc_AAAnezk/s200/IMG_9961.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When the original looks better than any filter.</td></tr>
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We waded, more like trudged through the school work they were supposed to have done while I was gone and then took in some fresh air at Chambers Bay park...with hundreds of others who had the same idea. It was so crowded, we could barely find a spot to park. I've seen it crowded like this in the summer, but never this early in the year! With movie theaters, restaurants and gyms all shut down, the outdoors seem like the last place to enjoy yourself with friends. I've seen people be of the mind that "Stay home, means stay home! Don't leave the house," but I believe that fresh air and sunshine are part of the cure. Do what makes you <strike>happy</strike> healthy!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">those colors!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxHQBbgaHuHxVhyN-jljbDv6nU85TzzwcartHVIiAsRCU_0Q9rLGFb3P9gNyhRVcIPpRcUc2-fixE4fQLFogNNSl2FTBMO7-EZoOVrFuKUEB_SUGdP-O6Gw9RDWBRryfBEoqvq_EsQFA/s1600/IMG_9968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxHQBbgaHuHxVhyN-jljbDv6nU85TzzwcartHVIiAsRCU_0Q9rLGFb3P9gNyhRVcIPpRcUc2-fixE4fQLFogNNSl2FTBMO7-EZoOVrFuKUEB_SUGdP-O6Gw9RDWBRryfBEoqvq_EsQFA/s320/IMG_9968.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jenny did well off leash today!</td></tr>
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-50195525651227648472020-03-18T23:08:00.000-07:002020-03-18T23:13:52.373-07:00Day 2: COVID-19 Self "Quarentine"What an ugly blog post title!<br />
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Anyway, I have a less demanding schedule these days and the desire to write is coming back. In June the kids and I will have our 5th anniversary of living in the house we are in. Five years is the longest we've lived anywhere! When we first moved up here we were blessed by good friends who let me rent one of their rentals for dirt cheap. It was a difficult time, but that little, tiny house located in a very "iffy" neighborhood is so precious to me because it is where I brought home the baby of our family. It is also where I spent those priceless years with my kids when they were so little and loving and...cute! It's hard to believe how fast time really does fly. After five years of living there we transitioned into a nice house with a big yard and lived there with my parents for two years. That place, also, holds precious memories of my kids surrounding my dad as he read them stories before bed, my mom making all of us pancakes for breakfast and being so close to my Nana that we could walk and visit her anytime.<br />
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But the time for me to find a respectable house for myself and my kids had come again. My folks were moving back into their home and our landlord wanted to sell. I looked on various online home rental sites and found one that I was interested in. I set up an appointment with the realtor to go check it out. It turned out to be an old turn-of-the-century (or even older!) home. Its exterior was built with stone and the interior had all kinds of interesting and unique built-in nooks and crannies. There was one room that interested me because to enter it you had to climb <i>into</i> it as the door to the room was a good 2-3 feet off the ground! Yet, this room wasn't hidden away, it was right next to the kitchen. We continued to see the rest of the house and finally I asked the realtor what was the purpose of that one room? "Do you really want to know?" was her response. Umm, ya, now more than ever! She told me it was the quarantine room for those afflicted with tuberculosis. There was a window very high in the room so that family could look down from the upstairs to make sure they were ok, but otherwise, usually the afflicted would go in there to die. So, I never went back.<br />
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I think about that house now and what a nice bed and breakfast I could have made out of it for anyone afflicted with COVID-19. I also think about how we are living in historical times. When my oldest looks back on the year he graduated high school, he will more likely remember how he barely attended his third trimester and all anyone talked about was the Coronavirus, rather than the celebrations and transition into adulthood. I read something the other day that said those graduating this year were born in a world recently affected by the events of 9/11 and will be graduating in the year of a pandemic. I believe they will be strong. They will affect the world in their own way.<br />
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Soooo, we are in day two of our self-quarantined, homeschool adventure. The first day was St. Patrick's Day and we enjoyed a delicious meal at home with our priest and good friend as our honored guest. I was happy to have all my kids home, safe and healthy. Today I needed to get out and take in some of that beautiful sunshine that has been gracing the PNW. So I decided we were going hiking.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGqeTwV2e6py0pRv4ayRvfSi93YonZn0qU7-yT9Iy7PKJJaf6WOq5qQ9UvlAyLbqTe5T8GsN5iSLSo8afVT7VCMh8A-H27EYCA1l9U548mtXaGLx9FLWN_YJyb9xlQ7QnG764ZqOEjiM/s1600/90405360_10215192432833373_5006869644414287872_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGqeTwV2e6py0pRv4ayRvfSi93YonZn0qU7-yT9Iy7PKJJaf6WOq5qQ9UvlAyLbqTe5T8GsN5iSLSo8afVT7VCMh8A-H27EYCA1l9U548mtXaGLx9FLWN_YJyb9xlQ7QnG764ZqOEjiM/s640/90405360_10215192432833373_5006869644414287872_o.jpg" width="356" /></a>Fun-ish notes about the day: I had an Irish Coffee at 9 am... just checking, but that's kind of like drinking a mimosa, right? One of those alcoholic drinks totally acceptable to drink first thing in the morning? Mmkay, good.<br />
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Second fun-ish note: I had the wind knocked out of me today! It was only witnessed by my 6 year old niece, myself and the ball of fur and muscle that is my brother's black American pit-bull who happened to be the culprit. As I approached the back yard deck all of a sudden I felt my legs lift up from under me and I landed with a thud flat on my back on a pile of gravel. For a few seconds, I didn't even know what happened! I stood up, kind of ticked off and wanting to cry, then I was just upset that it wasn't caught on video to share with all of you and maybe win $100,000 on America's Funniest Home Videos.<br />
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We hiked 2 vertical miles today at Mt. Peak. The mile up took us 45 min. That will be the time to beat next week. When I used to have to climb that peak for PT while I worked on a DNR Wildland Firefighting crew we'd have to do it in 28 minutes. That is my goal.<br />
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Other than that, schooling went well...there was some whining, some bribing, some slamming books, so, you know, nothing out of the ordinary. Healthy days to all! Goodnight.<br />
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-89598765643120364852020-03-04T09:12:00.000-08:002020-03-04T09:12:47.513-08:00A New Direction?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Mfliap_NLmSMEEiDbbln91NMMJ7qJ5CiCcRvVgLQwa5vESvZa4MuiAWPy5OiGtpgRurE1KeQyIWFuACMrUivOsySmBQXeoBU0LlqH5IEyhicmCqmsAnpYTuQ-np0Qe32k0NR1NAzfCU/s1600/Take-It-Day-By-Day-Quotes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Mfliap_NLmSMEEiDbbln91NMMJ7qJ5CiCcRvVgLQwa5vESvZa4MuiAWPy5OiGtpgRurE1KeQyIWFuACMrUivOsySmBQXeoBU0LlqH5IEyhicmCqmsAnpYTuQ-np0Qe32k0NR1NAzfCU/s320/Take-It-Day-By-Day-Quotes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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There are people in my life that worry not only about tomorrow, but next week, next month, the next hour...but, somehow, I missed that gene. It's not to say I have nothing to worry about, but simply that my brain is such that I must compartmentalize by the moment. I don't think too far into the future. I don't like to make plans too far in advance, and I can't focus too heavily on something if there is something else that needs to be taken care of first. I am neither advocating nor ashamed of this mindset. It seems to be a mix of trusting in God and procrastination, both positive and negative. </div>
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As a working mom in the midst of raising teens, I am discovering more and more that this might be considered by some, survival mode. I rarely make plans with friends because something might "come up" that I will need to attend to. I am much better at spontaneous and spur of the moment plans because I can determine right there and then if my absence would jive with everyone in the household. Is this normal? I don't know, it's my normal.</div>
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To mom's of teens, does this sound familiar? Opposite of your life? Let me know in the comments how life with teens affects your planning, social life, sense of self.</div>
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Also, to those of you who have enjoyed reading this blog, what are some things you would like to see more of? What topics are of interest to you? I think a question answering post would be fun, what would you like to know about my life? Ask, and I'll answer.</div>
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Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-88617918840083385012019-09-18T13:02:00.001-07:002019-09-18T13:05:30.095-07:00Panic is a Real Thing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9K41Nmj3ZYC1X5vIDYuEMeJXGiX4LNWZj3wNGbNWsh4C-BaTNbOznYLmEuwNd_v5-Z4-GB0Cohf7ojIkKI1lvGMIpCRyQs36q4pCYOMIyefgZwvAtDzpIIbxW9Ix1si3IJow1mqym4I/s1600/hirari-900x600.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9K41Nmj3ZYC1X5vIDYuEMeJXGiX4LNWZj3wNGbNWsh4C-BaTNbOznYLmEuwNd_v5-Z4-GB0Cohf7ojIkKI1lvGMIpCRyQs36q4pCYOMIyefgZwvAtDzpIIbxW9Ix1si3IJow1mqym4I/s320/hirari-900x600.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Working at my children's school has allowed me to be there for them in ways I never imagined I would have to. Today while I was teaching P.E., I noticed that one of my daughters did not seem like herself. She was doing really well at the game we were playing but never looked happy or enthusiastic. Afterward, at lunch, I asked what was wrong and she ignored me, so I chalked it up to adolescent angst. She finally came and found me in my classroom and emotionally vomited on me for being uncaring and mad at her. I am used to teens letting out their frustrations on me so I wasn't really phased. Pretty soon she was hyperventilating, crying and talking about feeling like she was 'outside of herself'. I tried to help her breathe slowly, but she just couldn't do it.<br />
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In the middle of it her teacher came in and told her she can't leave lunch without telling the person in charge where she is. This added to her anxiety. Her teacher let her stay, however, and I continued to talk with her. She began to bring up all her insecurities that maybe had <i>some</i> basis in reality but were totally blown out of proportion. Finally she asked if I could just hug her. <i>Why didn't I just do this in the first place?!!</i> (insert mom guilt) I hugged her tight. As I did so, I looked up on my phone what to do during a panic attack and found some great information from <a href="http://healthline.com/">healthline.com</a>. In a very calm voice I read <i>11 Ways to Stop a Panic Attack. </i>They were all very doable and pretty soon my little girl was breathing slowly and and her muscles had relaxed in my arms.<br />
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Both of my girls have tried to explain to me certain symptoms of anxiety that they were experiencing in the past year. I never understood fully what it was, and neither did they. After today's experience and a recent brief conversation with a couple of my cousins, I realized it's time to talk to them about anxiety, panic attacks and what they can do to help themselves. I have never experienced this myself, however, in the past, I <i>have</i> experienced anxiety's melancholic little sister, depression. I do know many in my family who have had anxiety and panic attacks and from what I understand, it does run in families so I shouldn't be surprised it would show up in some of my children. I have a lot to learn, but this I know, patience, love and understanding is what I can offer them now.<br />
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Have you ever experienced a full on panic attack? Do you know kids who have these issues? Any and all advice is appreciated!Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-17905753130984562802019-09-11T17:01:00.000-07:002019-09-11T17:01:05.556-07:00A Day to Remember<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinEovxJASfEhBmreUibM4412hGwAQ1Qg_eG0hQ-W5PoIvkmcoEkv71K5Ci0njqVMUl4AEN-fvdduxUeGeiGPv1AeY-gZvVCMyg9tHtp13VKOOMld-A915n1E9lOEcZ4b9NuZHgQEOVo1o/s1600/ipkrg1gxmgfkowc19neb.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="735" data-original-width="735" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinEovxJASfEhBmreUibM4412hGwAQ1Qg_eG0hQ-W5PoIvkmcoEkv71K5Ci0njqVMUl4AEN-fvdduxUeGeiGPv1AeY-gZvVCMyg9tHtp13VKOOMld-A915n1E9lOEcZ4b9NuZHgQEOVo1o/s200/ipkrg1gxmgfkowc19neb.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
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It has been a really long time since I have written a post, but my heart is longing to write again after a period of <strike>too busyness</strike> lack of creative thought. Today I was contemplating how to talk to my young students about 9/11. It is part of our country's history now, so should I talk about it? We say, 'never forget', but at what age do children need to learn to "remember". I wanted to share with them the importance of the day without making them feel scared or insecure in the world they live in. All of this consideration has brought that day's events so clearly back to mind. Sometimes, on this day, I can feel the same pit in my stomach that I felt that day, and tears would flow so easily if I let them.<br />
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I had just gotten married four months prior to the day. I worked in the office at the WA State Dept. of Natural Resources and my husband worked for DNR in the field as a Wildland firefighter. The day was sunny, nice...especially nice, I thought. I got out of my car and started to walk into work, passing the mechanic I said, "Good morning!" in an especially bright tone, because it was going to be a great day...I could just <i>feel </i>it. "If you can call it that!" the mechanic replied. Thinking he was pretty grumpy for such a beautiful day, I responded, "Why do you say that?" "Haven't you heard? Our country is being attacked!" I was confused and alarmed at what he said but figured he was exaggerating about whatever he was talking about. I entered the building and the receptionist told me she didn't know exactly what was happening but a plane had just hit a building in New York and they were talking about it being intentional. She told me they set up a T.V. in the back. In shock, I hurried to the back just in time to see the second plane hit the second tower and a chilling gasp filled the room by all who witnessed it. We watched in horror for the next few minutes when they told us we should all go home and be with our families. My thoughts immediately went to my husband... I needed to know he was safe and let him know I was coming home. He had the day off and was already watching the news as the towers now burned side by side with the whole world watching. I remember the feeling in my hands as I drove home...they shook, they were cold even though it was a warm, late summer morning. I had a pit in my stomach as I feared the known and even more the unknown.<br />
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Once home, my husband and I were glued, as was much of the nation, to the news. Every channel showed the image of the two towers burning and chaos in the streets of New York City. It felt so far away and yet so close. Then, in a moment, the first tower crumbled, live, for the whole world to watch. Realization that our country was under attack was more apparent when the news showed the Pentagon on fire, then a lonely field in Pennsylvania. Fear set in....where next? What now?<br />
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Those memories are as fresh now as the moment they came to pass. When it came time to talk to my students about what today was, I knew the truth was way to scary for their innocent hearts to hear. I knew I had to share <i>something</i> about this day but not <i>all</i> that weighed heavily on my heart. I printed a page to color:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtI__FIkZ1y1h3nzskJIwtUUi15i6fwgfSNEHaUdD2qJguKv_cC2EqMgQu10WsQCrDqHLgv2ccZmE9kNshyPIscWymJM-FJzi0OdwLtOjrfJxv6dVSOne_8S9BxFQ8qvcdMxQlsr4H5Q/s1600/september-11-coloring-pages-invigorate-9-patriots-day-best-for-kids-and-also-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="600" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtI__FIkZ1y1h3nzskJIwtUUi15i6fwgfSNEHaUdD2qJguKv_cC2EqMgQu10WsQCrDqHLgv2ccZmE9kNshyPIscWymJM-FJzi0OdwLtOjrfJxv6dVSOne_8S9BxFQ8qvcdMxQlsr4H5Q/s320/september-11-coloring-pages-invigorate-9-patriots-day-best-for-kids-and-also-14.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Then I oh so briefly described what happened, but our focus was on 911. I pointed out what the date was, 9/11/19, and told them how and why to call 911. We talked about how many people on that day must have called 911 and how brave the police officers and firefighters who responded were. We prayed for all first responders, those who died and those who even today put their lives on the line to save others.<br />
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I am grateful for the opportunity to impart gratitude in these young hearts toward our first responders. That is what they can take away from this day, until they are old enough to learn the sad details in full.<br />
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It is strange to me to think that to most students in school at this point, this occurred before they were born. To my own children, it is history. I try to remind them each year how united our country became after the events of this day. How nobody seemed a stranger, American flags flew from every car, every home, people talked to each other and we all seemed proud to be Americans. We say 'Never Forget', but I think we already have. We've forgotten that we should be proud to be Americans. We've forgotten that we are here to help one another and build one another up. How far we've come! I pray that it doesn't take another tragedy before we become united once more. Let's honor this day and the memories of those who died tragically by being kind to one another, being proud and grateful to live in this great (even if faulty) country of ours, and by thanking those who risk their lives every day to save others.<br />
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<a href="https://youtu.be/EEogeIIOJzU" target="_blank">https://youtu.be/EEogeIIOJzU</a>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-87845261366690657232019-03-01T08:21:00.000-08:002019-03-01T08:21:26.898-08:00What I Have Learned from Multiple Days Stuck at Home<div>
Nobody loves a lazy day at home with a cup of bulletproof coffee and a new Amazon Prime series more than I. Watching the snow turn my neighborhood into a winter wonderland added to the cozy feelings that made the first snow day so wonderful...</div>
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That was nine days ago, the first snow day of the season...</div>
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This past Friday's school day was cut short around the Puget Sound due to another oncoming winter storm. Unusual weather around these parts, the school districts, including St. Mary's (not part of a district), wanted all families to get home safely. It's Tuesday now, and I have yet to leave the house in 4.5 days. Yes I am getting cabin fever, yes... I'm even ready to be back to school. It hasn't just been this long weekend but last week as well was all kinds of weird...Monday- snow day. Tuesday - 2 hour delay, Wednesday - 2 hour delay and as mentioned Friday - 2 hour early release. I just saw the first snow plow drive down our street. Because this is such a rare occurrence, the city doesn't spend the money that other places do on winter preparedness, so while the main streets have been cleared, our street is a sheet of ice covered with a foot of snow, melted by rain overnight and turned to slush. My driveway, however, still has half a foot of snow and my van doesn't do well at all.<br />
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So, with all this time at home I want to share a few things I've learned that I didn't know before:</div>
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1. TLC has no show other than <i>Say Yes to the Dress</i> all. day. long. Does anyone even watch this show?!!! Who CARES what insanely expensive dress random strangers pick for their wedding? NO ONE CARES!!</div>
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2. For my teen boys, looking cool is now more important than being warm. I watched them walk away, 2 miles (one way) to the store, in jeans, hoodies, and their <i>Vans</i> shoes...no coats, no hats, no gloves. I warned them repeatedly that the snow was about to dump again but they said they were fine. Snow flakes the size of quarters started falling shortly after they left and by the time they arrived home, an hour and a half later, they were soaked and cold, but refused to admit they were idiots.</div>
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3. Snow brings people together. Even though we were physically housebound together, I watched my kids happily play together in the snow for hours. I played happily in the snow with them for hours. Neighbors we didn't know honked as they drove by and congratulated us on the "Great Job!" we did building our snow family. Groups of people walked down the road carrying sleds to the large hill a street over from ours. Our mail man stopped to talk. Another neighbor stopped by to make sure we were doing fine. Online, an incredible, "we are in this together" attitude took over and the polarizing political posts became minimal. </div>
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4. We are incredibly lucky human beings. When our greatest problem is being stuck at home, how can I complain?!!! We have a warm house, clean water, food, and all the other luxuries that we take for granted that make us the richest country in the world. Internet, phone, washer/dryer, TV, refrigerator....the list goes on and on of things to be grateful for. Anyone who lives an average, or even below average existence in America is filthy rich compared to a majority of the rest of the world. Privilege is a hot-button word in our society right now "Check your privilege" they say...well, I say, if you live here, you are privileged, be grateful for that. Oops, I didn't meant to get political...it just came out. </div>
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In conclusion, while I look forward to getting my van out of the garage and being able to drive out of my driveway and get back to normal life, I appreciate a newfound gratitude for all I have and I ask everyone to "check their privilege," check it so you can appreciate it and be thankful for all you have.</div>
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Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-83524020927662024582018-12-24T20:01:00.000-08:002018-12-24T20:01:58.799-08:00When Christmas Isn't Merry<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Be still and know that I am God."</span></blockquote>
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-Psalm 46:10 </blockquote>
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Every even year since 2011 I have woken up on Christmas morning alone, the house quiet. No expected patter of excited young feet or smiles that brighten when they see a tree bedecked with gifts and stocking full of goodies. Some of the things that bring a mother's heart greatest joy have been stripped from me when my husband decided he wanted out of our marriage. I am no longer bitter but the sadness of being away from my kids on this most special day never goes away. Weeks ahead of Christmas, I psyche myself up (and try to help the kids as well) to the fact that our 'Christmas' will still exist, only on a different day. All of them, at one point or another, will ask (if not <i>beg</i>) to be able to be home for Christmas. "We can go to Dad's in the evening," they try to bargain. I do my best to be positive and encouraging, but inward I am thinking the same thing.<br />
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By the grace of God, I am able to be strong in front of them, but every year, no matter how strong I feel, the floodgates open as soon as I drop them off. And then they are only a word, a look of understanding, a question away from letting loose again. Today is Christmas Eve. I have been crying on and off all day. I have surrounded myself with people I love, family and friends, but in every quiet moment...tears fall.<br />
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I know Christmas is a season. It isn't about one day or stockings full of gifts, it isn't about what we get or even who we are with. It's about Christ. That is what gets me through. Today I had the honor to vacuum our church to help prepare it for Midnight Mass. I imagined I was sweeping the stable, tidying up to prepare the lowly place for the newborn King.<br />
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Tonight I get to pick up my kids and bring them to Mass with me. I get to receive Our Lord in the Holy Eucharist with them by my side. This is Christmas to them, and to me. Tonight my heart will be full as I whisper "Merry Christmas" to my kids as the bell tolls for Mass to begin. Tonight for a few hours, joy will be full. I will focus on the now, and be happy.....<br />
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...and then I will drop them back off at their dad's in the middle of the night, and cry the whole way home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNaKNPUCIB8Q_WE4oVGZ3oS0c-FcilxyCC01PWF63iKVpYo8KA7-5d9XrItu6Bm8fjXEchpsKZ7vB0albnpwABjF2ZkQIHee6Owrs1NgEcQWDiUnINAWExNaCQCumWRkc5HyZh0EyJWwM/s1600/736295_3855080584725_30646943_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNaKNPUCIB8Q_WE4oVGZ3oS0c-FcilxyCC01PWF63iKVpYo8KA7-5d9XrItu6Bm8fjXEchpsKZ7vB0albnpwABjF2ZkQIHee6Owrs1NgEcQWDiUnINAWExNaCQCumWRkc5HyZh0EyJWwM/s640/736295_3855080584725_30646943_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In 2012 I wasn't able to have my kids even at Mass, these five candles were for them.</td></tr>
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-54290738717356703192018-12-24T18:50:00.000-08:002018-12-24T18:50:21.770-08:00Sister Time in the Northwesternest Corner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL3njsovPOHNweNcpj-QHeeiPaxsI_5tlYgbcSbJ5idO3o1RLXOElrM97pXnVGUPToX3W3pcVBwTQTMRYqq8MUp1DtIb7BtIYUkKfJG41xZmOCkWCdTVqa28td5CdqvxgiY_FgJfm-WA/s1600/IMG_4363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglL3njsovPOHNweNcpj-QHeeiPaxsI_5tlYgbcSbJ5idO3o1RLXOElrM97pXnVGUPToX3W3pcVBwTQTMRYqq8MUp1DtIb7BtIYUkKfJG41xZmOCkWCdTVqa28td5CdqvxgiY_FgJfm-WA/s400/IMG_4363.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #073763;">"There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more." - Lord Byron</span></blockquote>
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So many years ago, I can't even remember how long, the kids and I were camping with my sister, Tina and her family for Memorial Day weekend. It was a yearly event and as usual, Tina's birthday fell within the weekend so we gave her the usual camping birthday party. A dessert, the song, the hugs. She received from her husband that year, a backpack, a nice one, for adventures she longed to take. Little did she know the adventures that God already had planned for her. Little did she know that one of her daughters, having Type 1 diabetes would need her care nearly 24/7, little did she know the many hours she would spend in the hospital attending to her oldest daughter as she also suffered from a severe autoimmune disease, or how difficult it would be to get babysitters when 5 of her 8 children had special dietary needs. But through the years Tina put her dreams on hold without complaint and tended to the needs of her children. The backpack sat unused for many years.</div>
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With her oldest son about to turn 20 and her youngest going on 5. She felt her time had come. She found a moonless night in July on the calendar and said, "This is the weekend we are going." We scheduled it, and come hell or high water, we were going to do it. Well, we didn't have to deal with hell, but high water, yes. We planned a two night backpacking trip to Shi Shi Beach, near Neah Bay, WA, the most northwestern point of the lower 48 states. Upon checking the tides at the Ranger station we found out that we would be on the beach during the highest high tide of the year to that point. On the other hand, we would also experience one of the lowest low tides which would provide excellent tidal pool exploration.</div>
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We did a little planning over the phone about what to bring and looked into the permits we would have to obtain. It was all pretty simple: we needed an overnight pass for camping in the Olympic National Park and a recreation use permit from the Makah Tribe, which could be purchased at any store in Neah Bay. Also, because we didn't have one, we needed to rent a bear canister from the Port Angeles Ranger Station, more to keep our food safe from raccoons and crows than bears (although there <i>have</i> been reported sightings).</div>
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My girls ended up staying at Tina's house with their Uncle Mike and cousins and the boys stayed at home by themselves. I bid the boys farewell and met Tina at her house Thursday morning with the girls. They were excited to stay with their cousins, their best friends. This made leaving for a few days easier for my peace of mind. Once packed in the truck we were on our way! We giggled to ourselves at the very thought of this trip finally happening! The drive was enjoyable and the conversation wonderful and the silences comfortable. To me, nothing compares to being in the company of my sisters, it is the best. We've been through everything together, we've shared childhood memories, joy and chaos. We experienced the different stages of motherhood together, rejoiced in each others good days and commiserated in the bad. We've shared the same friends, we've cried together in difficulties and laughed so hard together that we literally peed our pants. Yet, I'm sure even on that day, in the back of both of our minds, the ever present concerns of motherhood lurked in our minds like shadowy reminders of the responsibilities always awaiting us.</div>
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We got our permits taken care of and found the overcrowded parking lot. Because it was full, we had to find a private residence half a mile away that charged $10 a day to park on its lawn. We would need to pay $30 but only had two $20 bills. We left them and a note asking for change to be left at the truck as there was no attendant on the lot. It was hopeful thinking, but we had no other choice. We heaved our heavy packs on our backs, took some pictures and headed down the shady road toward the Shi Shi Beach trailhead. Neither of us had prepared to carry 35 pounds backpacks. It was Tina's first time and my first time since training for Search and Rescue a year and a half ago of having such a heavy pack resting on our hips. As we walked, however, at least for me, my pack and I became one and our mantra was "one step in front of the other".</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwmxk7NzQBvSRVjS5aqA9yXchLyXjc0bb1zDQL4fwmkU-GzyBgww8GvtnZn7ESFZ7zw-MJNnnC3GGXhyphenhyphensBGdwJEsSIraTkD95GjoIqwdMVihPb_mypiD27l1CMhzXA3RESZLv70ENVpD8/s1600/IMG_4235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1172" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwmxk7NzQBvSRVjS5aqA9yXchLyXjc0bb1zDQL4fwmkU-GzyBgww8GvtnZn7ESFZ7zw-MJNnnC3GGXhyphenhyphensBGdwJEsSIraTkD95GjoIqwdMVihPb_mypiD27l1CMhzXA3RESZLv70ENVpD8/s320/IMG_4235.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tina at the trail's beginning</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUu2KfdtxsrXJGjHY5zFDROcS2XeW3p0wh7UksH6dljVWAeVSGvKg5GVUvQn_hoGVDd4csz2kezWmDGZxJVwVQtE9sHB_Aya1SvUni0_fnyVkwzBIEmsPFYyv3jnbeKjST3DZdvYs5JY/s1600/IMG_4241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUu2KfdtxsrXJGjHY5zFDROcS2XeW3p0wh7UksH6dljVWAeVSGvKg5GVUvQn_hoGVDd4csz2kezWmDGZxJVwVQtE9sHB_Aya1SvUni0_fnyVkwzBIEmsPFYyv3jnbeKjST3DZdvYs5JY/s320/IMG_4241.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The boardwalk portion in the shade.</td></tr>
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Just after the trailhead we dropped into a lush green forest. The remnants of enormous trees could be seen in form of stumps but the regrowth was great enough to provide shade for the forested two miles of our hike. It soon became a game of "try not to fall in the mud" as we entered the famously muddy parts of the trail. Just before our steep descent to the beach we approached a staircase which eventually spit us out onto the beach below. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiba8mqBMG7u-ws4ypQAT253LDJmEdfWo9aQVg1bUiwDzuPYI5yi0KT47fYwVJLkspSfaCwZhw2BdB3xUZ-zEuSiCQ1wsdlpFGh3WMxxkXmQ3Q33D_YA3OdGfbwcTfOngWwNqHmoVSn7hU/s1600/IMG_4248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiba8mqBMG7u-ws4ypQAT253LDJmEdfWo9aQVg1bUiwDzuPYI5yi0KT47fYwVJLkspSfaCwZhw2BdB3xUZ-zEuSiCQ1wsdlpFGh3WMxxkXmQ3Q33D_YA3OdGfbwcTfOngWwNqHmoVSn7hU/s320/IMG_4248.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many muddy stretches.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZegbSOpK7t4XQJEkenk-To-fB1F-JPpIIht6776yN0zEQaJNSWV4jZPnc7WyTNeL982Y-2eqDikJC8VX2xuoq2YmKeEDY3PG-XwqX8y-8E471bsAPDkjWC6lifI0ar5g-bPXyR6ktWM/s1600/IMG_4273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGZegbSOpK7t4XQJEkenk-To-fB1F-JPpIIht6776yN0zEQaJNSWV4jZPnc7WyTNeL982Y-2eqDikJC8VX2xuoq2YmKeEDY3PG-XwqX8y-8E471bsAPDkjWC6lifI0ar5g-bPXyR6ktWM/s320/IMG_4273.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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Violet resting on the beach.</div>
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We were excited to begin the second stretch to our destination, "Point of Arches". The temperature increased quite a bit now, however, not being in the shady protection of the forest. We were also walking on sand, which made it seem like each step took a little more effort, but the scenery was breathtaking.</div>
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The sky was a cloudless blue and the waves contrasted, breaking on shore clean white and clear waters. To the north and south were natural sculptures of rock jutting out into the surf. The beach barely hid the earth as low tide revealed it reaching toward the surface.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_0XSHrxA12l9iertfP60ZiL84KbPLMW5QLhGEffqEJ0MlYOuX8NIuVQ2TgpYBkt49d9e1JjJSvjsGtHkuKxzPnayxjnT6gfTIRLfdklRtgVnY_z-HO2YKrJPqDZubtQAPyK8OE4JbnQ/s1600/GOPR3247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_0XSHrxA12l9iertfP60ZiL84KbPLMW5QLhGEffqEJ0MlYOuX8NIuVQ2TgpYBkt49d9e1JjJSvjsGtHkuKxzPnayxjnT6gfTIRLfdklRtgVnY_z-HO2YKrJPqDZubtQAPyK8OE4JbnQ/s400/GOPR3247.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rocky earth reveals itself on the beach at low tide<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">After about half a mile of hiking on the beach, we both felt the need for a lunch break and the desire to stand or sit pack free. A rocky nook near the tree line beckoned for our company and we found a cave like lunch spot to re-energize. After doing so, we loaded back up and walked toward the harder packed wet sand which was easier to walk on. A older man came walking over to us to show us a picture he had taken of us (first picture on this blog post). He said he had been trying to get his sister to come out with him and wanted to show her that women do get out and hike. He asked our permission to share it and bid us a fun adventure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">After hiking another hour or so, we started looking for sites to set up camp. Knowing it would be a very high tide that night and the next we looked for something near the treeline. Soon we found the perfect location, a fire pit with a previously made driftwood bench on the beach with a hidden tent site just in the trees. It was love at first sight! We wasted no time setting up the tent and claiming our spot so we could get to work scavenging firewood. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We spent the next two days in an activity that is every mothers' dream...relaxing. When we try to relax while camping with kids they are constantly asking for us to do something. We try to explain that we ARE doing something...it's called relaxing! No explanation was needed on this trip. We sat in our chairs or on the sand and read books, watch the surf, explored tidal pools, talked without interruptions, took tons of pictures, laughed, felt young again, and enjoyed hours long naps to the sound of the ocean. It was just what we both needed. We spoke many times of our kids and how much they would love it there. We kept in touch with our families because we are moms and that's what we do. We vowed to do this every year possible from here on out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">After our five mile hike back to the truck, we found the $10 change that we asked for but didn't really expect. It was in an envelope tucked under the windshield wiper. We were both elated to know honesty and understanding still exist in a world that sometimes seems void of both.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Before we left for home, we took one more hike to Cape Flattery. It was an easy hike through beautiful green forests and on boardwalks that ended on a cliff overlooking the island on which stood Cape Flattery Lighthouse. The waters were teal blue and teaming with life, from seals to sea birds. We sat just off the trail and let our feet hang over the edge, savoring the last few moments of our adventure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Upon our return home, our girls came running out to greet us with hugs and kisses reminding us that all the times we wanted to adventure, but couldn't because our children needed us, was also time well spent.</span></div>
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-42538711325199871612018-07-21T15:07:00.000-07:002018-12-27T12:32:04.422-08:00The Honest Truth: what it's REALLY like to camp with kids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I hear people say things like, "You are such an amazing mom!" and "It's so great that you do all those things with your kids!" I cringe a little inside, because I know the truth. I know the ugly, un-photographed truth. I want to give you, dear reader, an honest look at what it's like outside of Instagram and Facebook. I'm going to let you be a fly on the wall or rather a mosquito at our campsite.<br />
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I recently took my kids plus my nephew on an overnight camping trip to White River Campground on the the east side of Mt. Rainier. It's a place we love dearly and a short drive to an amazing sunrise view of <i>the </i>mountain. I wanted to do this trip 'car camping, the light way'. Which, in my mind, means no camp box filled with everything I don't usually use but would come in handy if I needed it, no lanterns, no fancy cooked meals, no swimming apparatus, no camp kitchen etc. I told my kids they were responsible to pack what they needed to sleep comfortably, clothes, a backpack with enough water for the next day's hike and that's it, I would take care of the rest. Now we've gone camping so many times and as they have grown older I make them be responsible for more and more of their own needs, so I figured they could handle it.<br />
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I shopped for the bare minimum as far as food goes, plus enough snacks/goodies to keep them happy on the trail. (Fed kids are happy kids....usually) Then I set to work with the boys packing our <i>Yakima</i> cargo box with chairs, sleeping bags, a small foldable stove and a few other necessities. We packed our large blue container of water, the food bag and cooler, all of our backpacks, pillows, etc.<br />
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Well, it's sounds like it all went quite smoothly doesn't it? What I haven't mentioned yet is while I was busy packing this kid sat playing on the Xbox, this kid fought with that kid, this one whined about not having any clean clothes, this one was nowhere to be found, that one was Snap-chatting with friends....just as one would appear to be ready to go they would disappear and then I'd find out they had no backpack..or shoes..or sleeping bag. So then I'd stop what I was doing and help them only to find two others laughing at funny videos on Youtube, which would be fine if they were already packed and had helped me get ready to leave.<br />
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So by now, my head is about to explode and most, but not all, of the kids have an attitude like I'm forcing them to live in a labor camp and like it! Everything in me should be saying, 'Why don't you just change plans and take them to the lake instead, you know there'd be less complaining.' but what everything inside of me is actually saying, and it's true, is, 'I know they'll be happy and grateful once we are there, we just need to get on the road!!!'<br />
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When my kids were little and I did EVERYTHING, it was, in a sense, easier. They got to be excited about a grand adventure and I did all the work. Now getting them to carry their own work load is like pulling teeth! The same thoughts that are there nearly every time we do something fun started creeping into my mind, "WHY?!! Why do I even bother?!!" But immediately the answers take their place, 'Because it's good for them, because they need to unplug, because even with all the complaining, they love it.'<br />
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So now we supposedly had everything packed. Once we were loaded up I ran back into the house and filled an insulated bottle with Coke Zero and a swig (or two) of Whipped Vodka and stuck that into the cooler. Before I reached the van, I could hear the fighting. "It's MY day in the front!" "I'm NOT sitting back there with YOU!" Trying to keep my cool, I told everyone where they were sitting and didn't allow for negotiations. We drove in silence. I'm sure I said some not so nice things that experts would say will scar my kids for life. But it was silent.<br />
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Traffic. Was. Bad.<br />
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What should have taken us an hour and a half took us two and a half hours and, of course, by the time we reached the campsite, we were all famished. I told the kids we had to find a campsite and set up camp, then I would get out the food.<br />
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The campground wasn't full, but many of the good spots were taken. In a stroke of good luck, however, we found a great site with lots of space and privacy and was close to the bathroom. We set to work setting up the tents. I gave the girls the job of setting out the chairs and start searching for firewood. Both tents went up fast, sleeping space was being claimed and then I saw it...<br />
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On a small post that was hidden by our van was a white tag. It was the pay stub that stated the site had already been claimed. I had to break the news to the kids and tell them we needed to move. We feared that at any second a car would pull up with the night's tenants of our stolen campsite. I frantically looked around for nearby sites and much to my relief, the one right next to it was available, and it was also very nice, if not roomier. The girls and I literally picked up the tents fully set up and I hauled ours around the van onto the street and into it's new location. The boys took their larger one through the woods. I was proud of them, they worked together and got it done with minimal grumbling.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Come to terms with the tent situation</td></tr>
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Drama has a name and it is ********. One of my daughters decided she wanted her own tent and couldn't see how the three of us girls could fit into my lightweight three person backpacking tent. I suggested she sleep in the van, because I didn't pack another tent. When the boys heard the conversation they hounded her in their brotherly way and she stormed off into the woods. I knew she was wanting me to follow after her and hear her out, but I also knew she needed to blow off steam, so I let her go. Now, I was irritated and had to cook dinner. Right before we left home I told Sam we should probably bring another canister of propane, then I changed my mind. Well, we ran out of propane just as I got the burgers in the cast iron pan. Sam got the fire going pretty fast and we ended up cooking them over the flames. Oh, by the way the container of burgers that looked like it could hold 8...it had four patties. Four patties for seven people.<br />
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So we ate our dinner of burgers, chips and....oh ya, that's it. Burgers and chips, I even forgot the ketsup.<br />
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When 'drama' still hadn't come back Hunter, who has always had a knack for talking to the one on the outs, found her and convinced her to join the family. Within five minutes she was eating dinner and smiling. The rest of the evening went relatively well. Three of the four boys forgot sleeping pads, Ben didn't even bring his sleeping bag, so they got to learn the hard way why they need to be responsible for themselves. Luckily they were all in one tent and kept warm by sharing blankets.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Camper<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holding pieces of Rainier's history</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMAx3EKT8Uv4FWpXSVda7EWM85uoxd1Iy4c7MtrsGPRMKzDs9yugNyuqxgg3U0tyd8aR9PcS_xTGuOW5GUqUwJicvNAOX8IdPWuYxiygWSenTkgzp9Kpvh1kFOyXZ0QCzK3jA2DHmn3RE/s1600/sunrise+and+mt+adams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="781" data-original-width="1459" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMAx3EKT8Uv4FWpXSVda7EWM85uoxd1Iy4c7MtrsGPRMKzDs9yugNyuqxgg3U0tyd8aR9PcS_xTGuOW5GUqUwJicvNAOX8IdPWuYxiygWSenTkgzp9Kpvh1kFOyXZ0QCzK3jA2DHmn3RE/s400/sunrise+and+mt+adams.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise Point vista...Mt. Adams in the background</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, if we could all look as good as Rainier first thing in the morning!</td></tr>
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We attended the Ranger's Campfire talk about the history of Mt. Rainier, then kept the fire going and played our favorite camping game, Psychiatrist. As the coals died down we hit the sack and fell fast asleep.<br />
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My alarm went off at 4:30 so we could pack up and be up at Sunrise Point by 5:30 to watch the sunrise. I was so warm and comfortable though that I kept pressing snooze. Finally at 5, I started waking everyone up. The boys were up, dressed and packed in no time. Hunter, who would sleep until noon if I let him, said getting up was better than freezing in the tent. The girls took a little longer to get moving, but we were all in the van by 5:20 am with plans to eat where we park while we watched the beautiful sunrise.<br />
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We drove the winding road, up, up and up. The view widening and lightening as we rose. The sun was beating us to the mountain, but the scenery was quite the sight to behold. On our way up we saw a herd of at least 10-15 elk grazing in a lush meadow. We arrived at Sunrise Point as the Mountain blushed rose from the rising sun. I parked and we got out to take in our surroundings. There was a chill in the air but it was bearable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hot chocolate is a great way to start the day!</td></tr>
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As we enjoyed the sunrise, I made hot chocolate for the kids and coffee for myself by heating up water in my MiniMo Jetboil. After eating Pop tarts, the kids were ready to go! There were a few people at the parking lot taking pictures, but nobody was hiking except for us. </div>
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The trail started off heading downhill into the shade of the trees. It was a steady downhill and I kept thinking, "This is nice, but this will also be the <i>end</i> of our hike...a steady climb." Cecelia had a million things to say and, lost in conversation, she took a misstep and had a major belly flop on a downhill trail. This was early on in the hike and set the mood for the next couple of miles. Teary and sore from her fall, she fell silent for awhile. The four boys hurried ahead and Izzy journeyed back and forth between them and Cecelia and I. The wildflowers were a sight to behold. When your teenage son stops to stoop down and photograph a wildflower you know you made the right choice to bring them along no matter the struggle.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down on the first of many lakes.</td></tr>
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The mosquitos were a nuisance and they were very attracted to poor Cece for whatever reason, but because they liked her so much they pretty much left me alone. I felt bad for her though, she was constantly swatting at the suckers and at one point they had her in quite a tizzy. </div>
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I don't know what it was about this trail, or maybe it was the hot cocoa, but almost every kid had stomach issues and needed to stop to <span style="font-size: xx-small;">poop </span>along the way! I gave them a minimal amount of mountain money (T.P.) and told them to make sure to dig their hole before going. Cece was the only one that needed assistance and she had to go at least three times! So it was a slow go, but once that was over we were able to enjoy the trail and all it had to offer. This trail passed by at least five lakes before our final destination came into view, Upper Palisade Lake. We had been here before in early September but the lake was so much smaller then that we were able to walk right to the boulders on the far side. This time we had to find/make a trail through the woods until we came to the enormous boulder field. This was where we planned on having lunch and exploring for a bit. Many years ago there was a major rock fall and now rocks the size of small homes provided cave-like exploration, fantastic boulder hopping opportunities and dream homes to many marmots. </div>
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Right off the bat, the boys found the largest rocks and challenged themselves to jump from one to another. I let them be boys and do their thing in spite of my motherly instinct that made me want to warn them of all the dangers involved in what they were doing. I enjoyed nature in the same way with my friends when I was their age, although usually without my mother there to tell me to be careful...and I survived. They played for a good hour before they even thought about food. Meanwhile, the girls and I explored the cave-like areas and climbed high to get even better views of the emerald green lake. From where we climbed we could see the mountains stretch before us forever and the lake sparkle in the morning sun, the boys looked like ants and we were joined by marmots and hummingbirds.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrr30IvXC8VblIQ58IYtZ-hF-ZPsERwErn4pHlAD0-V2TrmV1Kg-8550NiqONBxmg78OmSKBOoEUlsQe7twDZ22ZLvBSYs0XDvgdrp0PIUE_HiNoX3TsLKeDaoYIW5tx8uDyPYWeocFUs/s1600/first+switchback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrr30IvXC8VblIQ58IYtZ-hF-ZPsERwErn4pHlAD0-V2TrmV1Kg-8550NiqONBxmg78OmSKBOoEUlsQe7twDZ22ZLvBSYs0XDvgdrp0PIUE_HiNoX3TsLKeDaoYIW5tx8uDyPYWeocFUs/s320/first+switchback.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first switchback</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTNjotNEdxjtqhVJKbwHhsduPfu6-ELexTtyzZzrRkf0VV7W3fTOVOnBO1DTtVhel-QIivgaICXn1Tr-TmX6xVjfSnyI_TLt7UxNardPwo69Soj_qOKB6n7hr0cYctR1blFW-ZtIa3qZg/s1600/sunglow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTNjotNEdxjtqhVJKbwHhsduPfu6-ELexTtyzZzrRkf0VV7W3fTOVOnBO1DTtVhel-QIivgaICXn1Tr-TmX6xVjfSnyI_TLt7UxNardPwo69Soj_qOKB6n7hr0cYctR1blFW-ZtIa3qZg/s320/sunglow.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">breaking for snacks in the morning light</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-enoVA_ovKWf4NDo495NHkO0Xyz56ZZijDxomy3NSOZNs4XjWnmjD6Ir6mWOON8hdlM5Pw-s7lV0YcmqkuyYCPT90xhD6IPHTstnK2PNFEjQ6Hwew3b0yMkVll7GoMr5KsENlsfvy0t0/s1600/hiking+the+meadows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-enoVA_ovKWf4NDo495NHkO0Xyz56ZZijDxomy3NSOZNs4XjWnmjD6Ir6mWOON8hdlM5Pw-s7lV0YcmqkuyYCPT90xhD6IPHTstnK2PNFEjQ6Hwew3b0yMkVll7GoMr5KsENlsfvy0t0/s320/hiking+the+meadows.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hiking a meadow next to one of the many lakes</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IKZVH1T46PhhGx9kVtb0Dq8ALDo_5GetbyJmKkp2Kv0x6mMKsyD0tCtLoG7b42vs5jbAG1kor_qxbLNqR6pE298Cshg-Xla7DRKT4qmdzXRskiU5FPEEhLtSJimdblDBzYR-D81vp4I/s1600/caves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IKZVH1T46PhhGx9kVtb0Dq8ALDo_5GetbyJmKkp2Kv0x6mMKsyD0tCtLoG7b42vs5jbAG1kor_qxbLNqR6pE298Cshg-Xla7DRKT4qmdzXRskiU5FPEEhLtSJimdblDBzYR-D81vp4I/s320/caves.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the "caves"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OL9VDQxkiluVAeWZJ1x7NvjYfNmj1c5HlEUn3r9HRvD0kE0IYNs_Ih0qhqKl7NzpTQH6bR_Lwb27TC0dv3xdRVuEAGAUY5gTWCRI20ExDWS2puERyGU1WWQIRh2YZwTN9gju30p-G8U/s1600/jumping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OL9VDQxkiluVAeWZJ1x7NvjYfNmj1c5HlEUn3r9HRvD0kE0IYNs_Ih0qhqKl7NzpTQH6bR_Lwb27TC0dv3xdRVuEAGAUY5gTWCRI20ExDWS2puERyGU1WWQIRh2YZwTN9gju30p-G8U/s400/jumping.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boulder hopping</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh1KK8fit8aKB43tQandNuZpdbEO3zyEmG7_5_U82uh5Qji6q6q_P7cU18UaxTipYk7ho2ULb5IFozIqf4148OMj96lBwhRIcbgdU8mzWyxDgEg9cHxdt1Y3Mv4PUAc7guGrvtGrsHKs/s1600/perspective.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqh1KK8fit8aKB43tQandNuZpdbEO3zyEmG7_5_U82uh5Qji6q6q_P7cU18UaxTipYk7ho2ULb5IFozIqf4148OMj96lBwhRIcbgdU8mzWyxDgEg9cHxdt1Y3Mv4PUAc7guGrvtGrsHKs/s400/perspective.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">for perspective, Sam contemplating life on lg. boulder</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5p8JMVTjRHUHsUK6SeQgoznfSykrmv73oePOofRK2bbKY7dtAZxPQIKPVEf1gRPb8QJwRfYpwTZtgiy8COeUIPn39k43FaQHEqgoegeTDykNUvVveLK6MFpVpoe7cRbiqllv8HinqWa0/s1600/rock+with+a+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5p8JMVTjRHUHsUK6SeQgoznfSykrmv73oePOofRK2bbKY7dtAZxPQIKPVEf1gRPb8QJwRfYpwTZtgiy8COeUIPn39k43FaQHEqgoegeTDykNUvVveLK6MFpVpoe7cRbiqllv8HinqWa0/s320/rock+with+a+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rock with a view.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3aS8qt3vCVX9IESzlQxuHbrK6mGoUEW-8FeT8SDD5VelFFqCQDkeRw12MpqD3-QPJydjCP7XlvJpW2rcoDjhGTY4kuuUiYTgEnwtaiyudbapcYHadc0QepKunkT7g4XGnQNmNQOGpCk/s1600/little+boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3aS8qt3vCVX9IESzlQxuHbrK6mGoUEW-8FeT8SDD5VelFFqCQDkeRw12MpqD3-QPJydjCP7XlvJpW2rcoDjhGTY4kuuUiYTgEnwtaiyudbapcYHadc0QepKunkT7g4XGnQNmNQOGpCk/s320/little+boys.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys from where we were perched way up high looked tiny as ants.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVkt9uB5EEAjSRmLqSnCAdqfenX8QdCNfLiompEJhT_Ikzkbn_g218v9o-Sd3UXSduLAzTJlsHry8daez-TIs4b4vC00xDRDlVN05BEJa285jrI_2geEoh3yzMnmLRgX_jMdctn5MEhg/s1600/awesomeness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVkt9uB5EEAjSRmLqSnCAdqfenX8QdCNfLiompEJhT_Ikzkbn_g218v9o-Sd3UXSduLAzTJlsHry8daez-TIs4b4vC00xDRDlVN05BEJa285jrI_2geEoh3yzMnmLRgX_jMdctn5MEhg/s320/awesomeness.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was irritated that I couldn't get a clear shot from where I was, but after seeing this picture, I was pretty amazed at this combination of sun and lens.</td></tr>
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After playing, exploring and relaxing we headed down, or up to the rocks from different directions and met at the lake. This wasn't without incident, however. Isabelle was slipping on the rocks and scraping herself left and right. She just about lost it and decided then and there she was done. Even after reaching the lake the complaining continued. </div>
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The day had warmed up quite a bit and most of us were excited to take our boots and socks off and stick our feet in the water. Oh, but we had forgotten how cold alpine lakes can be!! The most we could do at first is have competitions to see who could hold their feet in the longest. After eating, they began to play by the shore. Before I knew it and after warnings of "Don't get your boots soaked!" several kids fell in, including Cecelia who had her second or third meltdown of the day. This is one moment where I was impressed with one of my kids preparedness. Isabelle packed an entire change of clothes and charitably offered them to Cecelia. After changing into dry clothes she mellowed out. Isabelle's act of kindness brought her cheerful attitude back and she was all smiles the rest of the day.</div>
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Several of the boys by this time had stripped down to their boxers and hesitated on the edge of a rock trying to muster up the courage to jump in. My nephew, Vincent, had also ended up with wet boots and clothes so he found a large rock to change behind. At the same time that Samuel splashed into the icy cold lake, Vincent began howling in pain from his hidden location. My heart dropped and I ran as quickly as possible to where he was. He had fallen while trying to see Sam jump and ended up scraping his back, ankles, wrists and hands. I gave First Aid to his most serious scrapes and decided it was time to go. All the while, now Ben and Sam were in and out of he lake jumping in and swimming while trying to catch their breath.</div>
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I rounded everyone up but it still took a good 20 minutes to leave as everyone dried off, put on wet boots and gathered their stuff. We had 3.5 miles to hike back still.</div>
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The great thing about the Upper Palisades Trail is there are amazing views without too much up and down. The greatest elevation change is in the beginning (now for us, the end) of the trail. The way back was uneventful other than me trying my hardest to motivate the injured and the weary. Many times we would think, "Oh the car is right up there!" Only to realize we had another switchback to traverse. The climbs seemed so much longer than the descents seemed earlier that day. We still took time to enjoy and take in the awesome scenery all around us, best of all the welcome back view of Mt. Rainier, which, though so close, was quite evasive during the day. We arrived back to the van by 12:30 pm. It just so happened that the day was July 11th. 7/11. Free Slurpie day at 7eleven. We stopped on the way home. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZyOCht6GeovMQ1ZDUsLiw2cuOj8UbUpif5bjse-DoeerZ5PLsWf7giW4TDx0rbx4tKUXC9Ab9d-4uYPTt_O6pArdNj03p70gVJx3jjpMSG1rMwyjpBlWDfTugqdt4cgaHv3kLprQkec/s1600/IMG_4193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZyOCht6GeovMQ1ZDUsLiw2cuOj8UbUpif5bjse-DoeerZ5PLsWf7giW4TDx0rbx4tKUXC9Ab9d-4uYPTt_O6pArdNj03p70gVJx3jjpMSG1rMwyjpBlWDfTugqdt4cgaHv3kLprQkec/s320/IMG_4193.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having a hard time smiling after falling in the cold water.</td></tr>
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What I've realized over the years is that the stress, the anguish, the frustration, even the injuries and weariness...all the negative aspects of taking the kids camping and hiking are memories that sift through their minds like sand in a strainer. What remains are the heftier memories of adventure, scenery, overcoming challenges and time spent together. I know, without a doubt, that we will continue to explore, I will continue to get frustrated when everything and everybody doesn't work together in perfect harmony, but I will continue to cherish those moments when they do.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZDSLs0_dfks8bfhdc2V8cAl9cofDYWFX2MlMojI2Ow24Cpdla1XwV2HbHvPvQw1wpo-52udTJ9kFxiHjMxbUtlqHXnHAGoxaEgPwWbmWI8TYSaFE6dMJLpmH3ONrkoTh_CSaSwajUfN8/s1600/playing+by+the+water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZDSLs0_dfks8bfhdc2V8cAl9cofDYWFX2MlMojI2Ow24Cpdla1XwV2HbHvPvQw1wpo-52udTJ9kFxiHjMxbUtlqHXnHAGoxaEgPwWbmWI8TYSaFE6dMJLpmH3ONrkoTh_CSaSwajUfN8/s320/playing+by+the+water.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-emersion</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha0H_oIzzcuBJS2P0sGvv5aPExXNPWAki6CUFxf7c6VXExHkJppDTZE83hve52NxyRkiFu1wk-kwsPNRccFEmtxAgwQINdFpyzRzqHk-n0q4EgqAllQqBw2Cu7FPLG8W4tqD1hcfbsLRc/s1600/boots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha0H_oIzzcuBJS2P0sGvv5aPExXNPWAki6CUFxf7c6VXExHkJppDTZE83hve52NxyRkiFu1wk-kwsPNRccFEmtxAgwQINdFpyzRzqHk-n0q4EgqAllQqBw2Cu7FPLG8W4tqD1hcfbsLRc/s320/boots.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boots drying in the sun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2EX-2FmFCXOQ8ipil6bQS8d_Qhnifk8XEz4ZgtqiuYkQHmAM7d3dBfN95Qx3Ko7qfx-DEEJ25s2S440NWfeVgyL3npZdVWNYqmg7Jvacgc_rv70EqFzV5tCutJ3sQ-yK2vfKh_i0SxY/s1600/IMG_4200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2EX-2FmFCXOQ8ipil6bQS8d_Qhnifk8XEz4ZgtqiuYkQHmAM7d3dBfN95Qx3Ko7qfx-DEEJ25s2S440NWfeVgyL3npZdVWNYqmg7Jvacgc_rv70EqFzV5tCutJ3sQ-yK2vfKh_i0SxY/s320/IMG_4200.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">open meadow with Palisade Rocks as a backdrop<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4me2CJkNn2l17xqxqhTw_2Q6bwTGApWOH4t3cgnivwP8nGgLiFR2_ttfOj3z1XbAstelpbncKUPYOQBNXbNN5hUIHiTY0Gnf9uHma5o99IWC293L7Dx42zAOaAgqOdJjv1L2zi3C4cVw/s1600/7%253A11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4me2CJkNn2l17xqxqhTw_2Q6bwTGApWOH4t3cgnivwP8nGgLiFR2_ttfOj3z1XbAstelpbncKUPYOQBNXbNN5hUIHiTY0Gnf9uHma5o99IWC293L7Dx42zAOaAgqOdJjv1L2zi3C4cVw/s320/7%253A11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slurpie's make everyone happy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemiJX94VHQzCh1fTxQ3Rl6vNTqk3f9okWxfZRvcG9HnCDmBSm-BdAyZpNs7D4Ad6glF9iX_7axojbRgNaTKwRiCjTzLXWJtUJ_zbzLKx99ydBABFPLN5-qfrmoxUm-EY6mO9oDipl9q4/s1600/mountain+welcome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemiJX94VHQzCh1fTxQ3Rl6vNTqk3f9okWxfZRvcG9HnCDmBSm-BdAyZpNs7D4Ad6glF9iX_7axojbRgNaTKwRiCjTzLXWJtUJ_zbzLKx99ydBABFPLN5-qfrmoxUm-EY6mO9oDipl9q4/s320/mountain+welcome.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainier welcomes us back.<br />
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Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-81998570055586927962018-04-24T09:34:00.000-07:002018-04-24T09:35:58.197-07:00An 'Un'-alarming Start to the DayThe alarm went off. Not the one I set on my phone...the one in my head that told me, "It's light outside, why are you still in bed?" I bolted upright and stared at the clock in stark confusion. 6:38. I stared at the time in my reluctantly conscience state and tried to make sense of what that meant. My thought process went like this, "6:38.......six.....thirty-eight...6:38!!!!!! CRAP! We are supposed to be out the door at 6:30 to get Sam to school on time!" I vaguely remembered, and still can't say for sure whether it was a dream or not, angrily pushing the snooze button on my phone as though wanting to stab a whole through the darn thing for waking me up! I'm guessing it wasn't a dream.<br />
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So I sprung from my bed, went from room to room jiggling one kid after another awake with urgency in my voice, "I overslept, we are supposed to be on the road...NOW!! Get up, get dressed, we have to GO!" I got myself dressed, ran a brush through my frizzy hair, brushed my teeth, threw on some mascara in an attempt to make myself look awake and poured my coffee.<br />
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The kids were out the door in record time without breakfast and grabbing random lunch food items as we head out the door. On the way to Sam's school, 35 minutes away, I made sure to tell everyone how awesome they were. Providentially, Samuel's teacher was late that day and he ended up waiting for her to arrive instead of vice versa. And by the grace of God, we still arrived at school with 2 minutes to spare. As I made my way down the ramp to my classroom a dozen sprightly 6-7 years bounded my way. I knew I would need another cup of coffee to handle their energy.<br />
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When I got home after a pretty good day, I had a text from my sons' teacher. It said, "I hope (<i>so and so</i>) can get some sleep. He was kinda cranky today. (not being bad, just CRANKY!)" I responded like this:<br />
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Yes, when I saw Cecelia at lunch time she was eating a bag of chips and a string cheese. Samuel didn't have lunch, I have no idea what the others ate and yet, not one of them complained. Most days, I am frustrated with my kids because I am practically dragging them out the door after innumerable reminders to get dressed, pack lunch, eat breakfast, brush teeth, grab homework etc., the list goes on and on. But sometimes they remind me that they can work as a team and when they do, they are fabulous!</div>
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-87790674049331157912018-04-09T21:31:00.000-07:002018-04-09T21:32:18.725-07:007 More Weeks! 33 Days to be exact (not including the weekends)...not that anyone is counting. Ok, <i>everyone</i> is counting; students, parents, and teachers alike and probably all for different reasons. And when you are a parent/teacher you are counting doubly, like a couple times a day just to make sure you didn't miscount. Some parents are counting with apprehension wondering how they will juggle the new summer schedule with their work load, some are counting with joyful anticipation knowing soon they will finally have a more flexible schedule and won't have to pack lunches every day. I count with a giddy and impatient fervor. With the joy of a parent whose schedule will be freed up to live at our own pace, and begin a summer of new experiences.<br />
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I am so blessed to work where I do. To have the same days on and off as my kids (with the exception of Sam) and to be able to enjoy the summer almost as a kid does. I am blessed to work with three nuns who have dedicated their whole lives to the Catholic education of children and who care about them as though they were their own. Three nuns who I am proud to call my dear friends. I am blessed to be able to attend daily Mass and to have my children receive the sacraments with me.<br />
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It's easy to get caught up in the tedium of our day to day work and long for the weekend or spring break or summer, but the truth is I have it made. I have to stop every now and then and remind myself of that fact. We went back to school today after a ten day break and even though it was hard (boy was it <i>hard!!</i>) to get out of bed at the crack of dawn, it was great to see my students again and my fellow teachers. In each of them, however, I could sense excitement that we are in the final stretch.<br />
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A highlight of my day came when I first got to my classroom and the older sister of one of my First Graders brought me a sugar-free vanilla latte, on it she had written with a Sharpie, '7 more weeks!!☺'<br />
Many times prior the same kids' dad had purchased myself and his daughter's teacher a morning coffee and while it's always such a sweet surprise, several times I had to pass it off to our secretary on account of my sugar-free diet....but not today. I am thankful.<br />
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-9056341209295503012018-04-08T00:29:00.000-07:002018-04-08T00:32:33.652-07:00A New ChapterMy boys are growing fast. The girls too, but the boys are definitely in the metamorphosis of adolescence. Samuel and Hunter have changed so much this year that pictures of them just last year make them look like tiny little boys. Their voices have deepened, their 'staches are budding, and they are constantly comparing their height and strength as a measure of their manliness. They both crack me up and drive me crazy. When they were little I can't tell you how many times while in line to pay for groceries, I was told by older women to, "enjoy them now, they grow so fast!" I tried, and I did. But it was difficult, as a single mom, through the diapers, tantrums, fights and sleepless nights to think to myself, "Wow, I really enjoy this!"<br />
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That being said, I truly have enjoyed every stage of their growing up. Now (when they aren't fighting over the Xbox or bickering with each other) I enjoy their hilarious sense of humor and having conversations with them that are both entertaining and thought provoking. Both Samuel and Hunter have joined me in volunteering for Pierce Co. Search and Rescue. We've gone through training together, attended meetings together and have searched together for both people and important evidence. I can look back and say I truly have enjoyed them as babies, as children and now as young adults.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">And now, together, all six of us are embarking on perhaps the scariest adventure of all...Samuel is beginning to drive. The very idea of my child operating a vehicle amidst crowded roads and so many crazy drivers is torturous! Sitting in the passenger seat with absolutely no control and trusting he will be able to make good judgements is the greatest trust fall of all! He is in his fourth week of driver's ed and I try to let him drive every chance I can. In all honesty, he's a very good driver...much better than I was when I started out. That's not to say we haven't had some hair raising moments:</span></div>
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Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-19710833521749226282018-04-07T12:56:00.000-07:002018-04-07T12:58:30.311-07:00The ItchWriting keeps me open as a person, truth spills out when I type whereas it might get sugar coated when I speak. For the last year, however, I have done VERY little writing....ok, I haven't done ANY!! I have blamed the old equation: my job + my life = no time. "I will write come summer." I told my mom the other day when she asked me why I haven't written anything. "That's what you said last summer!" she replied. Then it dawned on me...she's right. Why haven't I written? Is it because I don't have any truth that I want to share? Is it because I don't believe myself worthy to take up others' time with my words? Is it because I'm just plain lazy? Maybe a combination of the latter two.<br />
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There is an itch, however, that I can't ignore. An itch that is enough to get me back in front of my computer regardless of my kids hovering around me needing this or that as they are doing right now. So here I am. Truth? Do you really want it? I just told my kids that there will be one full day every week without the damn Xbox because I don't want to hear them arguing about who's turn it is. Now they are mad at me and I just remembered why I haven't written. It's because typing on the computer is like talking on the phone, no matter where my kids are or what they were doing, as soon as I am busy, they become as needy for my attention as when they were little.<br />
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The truth is also this: my kids are my life, and their needs will come first, even if my eyes are on the verge of bugging out and my head is about to explode, which is what happens when your mind tells you it's time for camping but the weather forecast tells you otherwise.<br />
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The mud season has arrived in the PNW. I saw a very accurate meme about Oregon weather that applies as well to the weather here in Western Washington. We have 11 seasons of the year: Winter, Fool's Spring, Second Winter, Spring of Deception, Third Winter, Mud Season, Actual Spring, Summer, False Fall, Second Summer (one week) and Actual Fall. Right now the rain is falling outside with a vengence and our much anticipated first hike of the year with Pierce County Search and Rescue was cancelled due to high wind warnings. This would have been exactly what we needed right now, fresh air and space from one another. Oh well, life goes on, and sunny days are bound to come....right?<br />
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Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-68932020030504397082016-11-07T22:55:00.001-08:002016-11-07T22:55:52.414-08:00A Miracle CureThere are a couple bugs going around right now, and as a teacher, I am exposed to all of them. There is the stomach thing; dizziness, weakness, nausea and possible vomiting . Then there is the face thing; sinus pain, stuffiness, and runny eyes and nose. One of my students recently succumbed to the first bug. She was sent home.<br />
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By that afternoon, another student seemed to be a victim of the same thing. With a vivid explanation of how he felt, ("My stomach feels like it is moving up to my throat, and I feel really, really weak, even weaker than my baby brother. My head feels spicy and I'm dizzy.") I thought, "Oh great, it's going to go through everyone!" I tried to contact victim #2's parents, even though it was nearing the end of the day. They were unable to come early, so I had him lie down on our reading rug and try to rest.<br />
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It turns out is was another student's birthday this day and she brought cupcakes to share with the class. While the class, excepting sick child #2, were out at P.E., I sat at my desk to enjoy a few moments of silence and prepare for the remaining hours of the school day. #2 had much to say...a LOT to say. Now, I cherish the few minutes in the day where I can sit in peace and not speak to another living soul, but he had so much to talk about. Finally, I had to say, "You know, when I'm as sick as you are, I can never talk as much as you are doing right now...." He seemed to take the hint and rested quietly for a few moments until the bell rang and the rest of class came clambering in.<br />
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Upon finishing our afternoon routine it was time to pass out the cupcakes. It was in this moment that I believe I discovered the cure to the stomach bug that is going around. CUPCAKES!! In an instant, that child was off the floor, smiling and cheering with the other students at the prospect of feeding his sweet tooth. Now, I'm no expert, but I believe even scientists haven't come up with a cure that works this fast. It was amazing!<br />
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Now, as for the "face thing" going around. I caught it Friday and felt so miserable that I'm pretty sure I caught the 'man' version of it. Not much got done over the weekend, but I'm feeling better now. Here's to good health, everyone!<br />
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-40103547097491283952016-11-05T23:19:00.000-07:002016-11-05T23:19:29.595-07:00Underground to Above the Clouds<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing." - Helen Keller. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This may be my favorite quote of all time...but then I can't be sure because I am a lover of quotes. One day, maybe I will be quoted as saying something earth shatteringly wonderful....okay, I'm getting ahead of myself. My latest adventure, however, brought this quote to mind..."life is either a daring adventure, or nothing." I'm pretty sure Helen Keller and I would have been great friends; she'd never judge me for the way I looked or what I said, she'd never repeat secrets I told her or speak unkindly about me. We'd walk together in silence experiencing one dangerous adventure after another.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With that being said, I was thankful for the adventurers I had with me the second week of July when we traveled 140 miles south to the great and powerful Mt. St. Helens. I had acquired our climbing permits the first possible day way back in February. After that the date of our climb was set in stone as the permit process is pretty rigid. The weather, however, in the Pacific Northwest (PNW) is as fluid as the sea that dictates it's changing ways and with our hike rapidly approaching, we were heading into a cloudy stretch with chances of rain. I even read reports that given the variable of wind, the temperature at the summit could feel like 37 degrees!! Yes, it was still July, last I checked.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The weather forecast didn't dampen our spirits, however, we just packed accordingly. This trip was a promised "one on one" time for Samuel and Hunter as I had already gotten to spend special time with Ben and then the girls. It ended up being "one on four" though because my nephews, Donovan and Thomas picked up the extra permits we had acquired. It turned out to be perfect, however, because everything is always more fun when cousins are around.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzSYkAJ4kp_2vlHr9TL3wnv_rLPIe7pLn6BiSBlmVYzAg7o4RClJ1gFhoOdfkaxSfwtZV5awfQp_zEneChl51gdSwk0JaQRMvkevhKXv1gQbkaOFbY8kJs1YzH4k40dIDVanAmLNjR508/s1600/2016-07-10+15.38.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzSYkAJ4kp_2vlHr9TL3wnv_rLPIe7pLn6BiSBlmVYzAg7o4RClJ1gFhoOdfkaxSfwtZV5awfQp_zEneChl51gdSwk0JaQRMvkevhKXv1gQbkaOFbY8kJs1YzH4k40dIDVanAmLNjR508/s200/2016-07-10+15.38.33.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNU7b0dv7uNQjuEQUhB_slulPOo06759LTh9v4RrbepnNWXNq0Z_tVJuYRaLLDwYZ6ieQ0nHVMdGMxA2jMe5P767YzquSAI9ll7PALz9QgRdjm9rfeBHhZdIYv1vsP_CoPT5Ley8_X50c/s1600/2016-07-10+15.28.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNU7b0dv7uNQjuEQUhB_slulPOo06759LTh9v4RrbepnNWXNq0Z_tVJuYRaLLDwYZ6ieQ0nHVMdGMxA2jMe5P767YzquSAI9ll7PALz9QgRdjm9rfeBHhZdIYv1vsP_CoPT5Ley8_X50c/s200/2016-07-10+15.28.33.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After Mass, we drove the almost 2 1/2 hours to Cougar, WA where we checked into Lone Fir Resort. The room was gorgeous and comfortable, just what I was looking for, and there was a pool outside, just what the boys were looking for. First off, though, we all wanted to explore the Ape Caves.</span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #382c14; font-family: "freight pro" , "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 24px;">This longest continuous lava tube in the continental U.S. offers 2.5 miles of dark explorations.</span><span style="font-size: 24px;"> </span><span style="color: #382c14; font-family: "freight pro" , "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We made sure all of our flashlights had good batteries and layered on some extra clothing. The caves were only about a 10-15 minute drive from our room. </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #382c14; font-family: "freight pro" , "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've been to the caves before but my children had not. The last time I went was with a few of my siblings and their families and all I really remember was passing babies back and forth to each other as we struggled to climb volcanic boulders in the dark without falling over or dropping one of the little ones. I looked forward to doing this now with my boys who can not only walk on their own two legs but give me a hand if I need one. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We arrived at the parking lot for the ape caves mid-afternoon and descended into the opening via a steep, metal staircase. We had the option of taking the longer but easier lower tunnel to the left or the shorter but more difficult tunnel to the right. We went left first, then when we returned from the lower cave, we explored the upper cave. The hike was an easy albeit somewhat bumpy walk through an amazing couple of miles of underground trail. Toward the end of the lower cave the ceiling became lower and the walls narrowed. Being claustrophobic, just breathing normally become laborious. I literally struggled to take a deep breath and knew that I needed to turn around. The boys didn't seem to have a problem, however, especially Hunter who crawled his way to the point where we had no choice but to turn around and head back. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "freight pro" , "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh, by the way, did I mention this hike takes place entirely in the pitch dark? You cannot see your hand in front of your face. Some of us wore head lamps and some carried flashlights. Wearing a headlamp made it easier because many times in the upper tunnel we had to use our hands to climb up and over large abrasive boulders. At one point in order to go further we had to scale an 8 foot wall with only one foothold in it. We helped each other up and over without much trouble.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "freight pro" , "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A sign outside the caves said, "No Smoking in Cave", well someone did not heed the warning and the smoke, or at least the smell of smoke, having nowhere to go, clung thick and sickening to the cave's interior. I felt nauseous and welcomed the end of the tunnel. We were fooled at one point, thinking that an opening in the cave was the actual exit. It was the first natural light we had seen in awhile and the fresh air felt good in our lungs. The slight taste of the great outdoors made me hungry for more (and the hike itself just made me hungry!). By the time we reached the ladder at the end of the cave, I was good and ready to get dinner and relax before our early start the next morning. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg40AKmGCq-GVkR6AQTDgHLkFadBHtQwWOgZH5mGiF4kMU6PDeHAOQ-KRyFIZM2L-VR14waSHcz9MEHMXcO5AeWUODwhkC3shIWBo41GrQzuMSBFEXg1M-QlO-pwKJSHZZLDL3fJto6bD0/s1600/2016-07-10+16.17.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg40AKmGCq-GVkR6AQTDgHLkFadBHtQwWOgZH5mGiF4kMU6PDeHAOQ-KRyFIZM2L-VR14waSHcz9MEHMXcO5AeWUODwhkC3shIWBo41GrQzuMSBFEXg1M-QlO-pwKJSHZZLDL3fJto6bD0/s200/2016-07-10+16.17.43.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkuSisdYXdY7tDQ0nTNf7EyOj2yq31Ewzd6KbRwyzfQvOsiHtt4zgKnw7-qXSQ6G5914aUgt-HEfwQYyikOQ-vVmBMu-eKblbFpdflUaPhIcFcGGgvJMIzD9nrF0fkY4lPVK_bCyDsB8/s1600/2016-07-10+16.35.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkuSisdYXdY7tDQ0nTNf7EyOj2yq31Ewzd6KbRwyzfQvOsiHtt4zgKnw7-qXSQ6G5914aUgt-HEfwQYyikOQ-vVmBMu-eKblbFpdflUaPhIcFcGGgvJMIzD9nrF0fkY4lPVK_bCyDsB8/s200/2016-07-10+16.35.54.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The air outside felt balmy compared to the constant 42 degrees of the cave. We hiked back not really knowing where we were going but hoping the trail we found would lead us back to the van. At one point our group of five and a group of four in front of us walked through a dry ditch that the trail traversed. I was bringing up the rear and noticed each person, upon walking through the ditch, began flailing their arms as though being swarmed by mosquitos. Before I knew it I too, was surrounded. I tried to shoo them away not overly concerned until Samuel told me they were bees! How I didn't make this distinction is beyond me, but of the nine of us walking through their territory, I was the only one to get stung. They got me through several layers of clothes just above my belly button. It was more irritating mentally than physically, or maybe it was just adding to my already hangry (angry on account of being hungry) state of being. I needed food.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLWHIPGvr5pZTNxIaERPZ6z6yfGCGhct4uiryrGUvlmSUMe6k3tPcH18gv8eyUQ0144wLeMzyE7dKMVXYe89Q0kA6k3K_QjQO4DbTweO0Cim44X1sGsVEGqVVZpNIaJx6ZzT8BEHBrpY/s1600/2016-07-10+16.33.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjp-nrfz9K_7J8jLT-UAYmPL1vAMLjJnEYQelaG6smDrYrFWcdXpHMPRvsJIzi7oDDlpTZTjmSyKT0qrXuDdtylGo4RCZsEXp6WEGZobXukSsLpEYdJa9DZb3bRzJzfttxIA5I4MTIeE/s1600/2016-07-10+17.57.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjp-nrfz9K_7J8jLT-UAYmPL1vAMLjJnEYQelaG6smDrYrFWcdXpHMPRvsJIzi7oDDlpTZTjmSyKT0qrXuDdtylGo4RCZsEXp6WEGZobXukSsLpEYdJa9DZb3bRzJzfttxIA5I4MTIeE/s320/2016-07-10+17.57.53.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLWHIPGvr5pZTNxIaERPZ6z6yfGCGhct4uiryrGUvlmSUMe6k3tPcH18gv8eyUQ0144wLeMzyE7dKMVXYe89Q0kA6k3K_QjQO4DbTweO0Cim44X1sGsVEGqVVZpNIaJx6ZzT8BEHBrpY/s200/2016-07-10+16.33.45.jpg" width="200" /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIfqz5L__M-olGms5FEx-xBqFyQyNgFAN61wLwXR_2Tcr7WZk-o86LF38Xy5UyTORvRoFBzBJrEetA43AgCDb3D8T-2TEpXG_ecaCCrrL-azcfbtQRaRd45-NWi9M8_NffvOeRsOF37gk/s1600/IMG_4505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIfqz5L__M-olGms5FEx-xBqFyQyNgFAN61wLwXR_2Tcr7WZk-o86LF38Xy5UyTORvRoFBzBJrEetA43AgCDb3D8T-2TEpXG_ecaCCrrL-azcfbtQRaRd45-NWi9M8_NffvOeRsOF37gk/s320/IMG_4505.JPG" width="240" /></span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We decided to eat at the cafe at the Lone Fir Resort. It was more of a fancy sports bar than a cafe and the prices went along with the atmosphere. I ordered one large pizza for all of us to share. The boys got a pitcher of root beer and I got a Huckleberry hard cider. We sat across from a group very similar to our own, it was boys about the same age as my boys and their moms. Three moms actually and three boys. The boys were obnoxiously loud and rude and the mothers laughed at everything they did and said. I thanked my sons and nephews right there and then for being the young men that they were.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After dinner, as we walked back to our room, the guys remembered the pool. Samuel and Hunter didn't bring shorts, but Donovan and Thomas came prepared. After begging and pleading with me, I allowed them to go swimming regardless of them not having swim shorts. At the risk of sounding like a bad mom, I didn't even want to know what they planned to wear (or not wear) in the pool. They headed outside and I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The next morning I rose early to take a shower. The boys were still sleeping, three to one bed and one of them with me. As I entered the bathroom I marveled at the still dripping wet jeans strewn haphazardly across the floor. The shower curtain and rod had fallen off the wall apparently on account of the weight of the wet clothes that were tossed over the top in an attempt to hang them to dry. Clothes were everywhere and the bathroom looked like the waters had receded after a major flood. I was just glad it wasn't my house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We ate the free continental breakfast offered by the resort, and lots of it. We needed to fuel up for the long climb ahead. After returning the keys and checking out, we began the drive up the winding gravel roads to Climbers Bivouac where the trail up Mt. St. Helen began. It was a cloudy cool morning but it didn't <i>feel</i> like it would rain. When you are from western Washington you know it's going to rain simply by instinct, and my instincts were telling me that, in spite of the overcast sky, we weren't going to get caught in a downpour.</span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: inherit;">The trail started out at an easy grade (gaining 1,000 ft. in elevation in 2.1 miles), it was wooded and pleasant. A few small doe obliviously nibbled the soft green grass just off the trail. A few patches of bright purple wildflowers punctuated the green all around that seemed magnified under the lens of low clouds. That atmosphere was such that we probably wouldn't even bat an eye if we spotted Sasquatch among the trees. It was quiet until we reached the junction at the Loowit Trail. Climbing past this point required a permit and only 100 permits a day were offered. Several people lingered there, resting before the hard part began, some realized they could go no further.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGagCIhgX757jC0X2_Mt3HOXbClrBqFLOXn3FnQPsUBvrTjpZVNAZTpUXu2zlF1GYS8XDIdWRUgTyGrIJOwxk_Kl78BPR2XOK6jlEO-CTNLQuatv9pQDoq32AuYLTdtiC79JCUfwz33s/s1600/2016-07-11+08.24.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGagCIhgX757jC0X2_Mt3HOXbClrBqFLOXn3FnQPsUBvrTjpZVNAZTpUXu2zlF1GYS8XDIdWRUgTyGrIJOwxk_Kl78BPR2XOK6jlEO-CTNLQuatv9pQDoq32AuYLTdtiC79JCUfwz33s/s320/2016-07-11+08.24.19.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The first 2.1 mile easy forested part of trail.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXIEEYpzAxrua2X-cc7i-EdowWEn1FQtLIa_UVLhyNvjcrRUScljF8XWMsmK0Ra1rwbxMkCn0GUUH8t6o_pxyp0JQ7ojn1gz_mG4pfLyMptkQpnr_2OiDFUwEsh_EtEv7e3YQjEpW5oo/s1600/IMG_4553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXIEEYpzAxrua2X-cc7i-EdowWEn1FQtLIa_UVLhyNvjcrRUScljF8XWMsmK0Ra1rwbxMkCn0GUUH8t6o_pxyp0JQ7ojn1gz_mG4pfLyMptkQpnr_2OiDFUwEsh_EtEv7e3YQjEpW5oo/s320/IMG_4553.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Forest canopy</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: inherit;">We grabbed a snack from our backpacks and made sure to be drinking lots of water. Then we followed the sign to Monitor Ridge. The climb to the top is 5 miles, one way. Like I said, in the first 2.1 miles we gained 1000 ft. in elevation, in the next 2.9 miles we would gain 3500 ft. That should tell you how steep this climb was! Not </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #2a2a2a;">only was it steep, but the trail was only marked by log poles that were lodged into holes between huge volcanic boulders. We had to spot a pole, scramble hand and foot over couch-sized rocks until we got there and then try to spot the next one. This became increasingly more challenging as we approached the clouds and couldn't even see from one post to the next. It was fun, however, and although we were putting in full effort, no one complained. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88w1OeoOrjqqsA6TLPItz45c0MaBZFh_H3XhmzXq9p7ocEkt3J2ZW84_DJEn-yrZNBhgrtCWI2pjF2-udP9_vZtzo8KL3zBrQ4HxzoIplzbIWZTsUQ74hpJH1eIE2z0HOhRyIVXxzuEM/s1600/2016-07-11+09.04.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88w1OeoOrjqqsA6TLPItz45c0MaBZFh_H3XhmzXq9p7ocEkt3J2ZW84_DJEn-yrZNBhgrtCWI2pjF2-udP9_vZtzo8KL3zBrQ4HxzoIplzbIWZTsUQ74hpJH1eIE2z0HOhRyIVXxzuEM/s320/2016-07-11+09.04.04.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The beginning of the boulder field</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBqJ862cmJlkqpAr8Tny4-lqCHz82oE7RS7WJKPND3TIj27Ven7OkGTW9NuIM58fPWXwUGJYleHL1CPcnwjNt7Ls5mv0wiaCGlic_9tpOWhvIQdW8wkKKNQbddQHFUkMvbQ3eUfhR8YOQ/s1600/2016-07-11+09.17.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBqJ862cmJlkqpAr8Tny4-lqCHz82oE7RS7WJKPND3TIj27Ven7OkGTW9NuIM58fPWXwUGJYleHL1CPcnwjNt7Ls5mv0wiaCGlic_9tpOWhvIQdW8wkKKNQbddQHFUkMvbQ3eUfhR8YOQ/s320/2016-07-11+09.17.58.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Taking a break, with clouds in our hair.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZ1LiX_hyphenhyphenkn9AFwqle25CxO-gtk7ghj56GwfV_7sxYzRrdUS8eRJrSOqtg7gRnJ7wuFIpfopMVXNflhCth3T5anmmSEdWN9LTBeqOXXNjMQxg348G5wVHNrfg811Sm85TdcWyjZWsTpY/s1600/2016-07-11+10.02.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZ1LiX_hyphenhyphenkn9AFwqle25CxO-gtk7ghj56GwfV_7sxYzRrdUS8eRJrSOqtg7gRnJ7wuFIpfopMVXNflhCth3T5anmmSEdWN9LTBeqOXXNjMQxg348G5wVHNrfg811Sm85TdcWyjZWsTpY/s320/2016-07-11+10.02.48.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">resting in the clouds</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjhb_pyrVsbHOvefPBSps_O_3HvIuRZFjbEVTaAU75dayTXhLgd5gELn0HH1OyqFs_buZy81zYEAmdPHOCzCoVEfpAzXK2iWIOj7ZgHu4m3JpheJUsHB_SM0i7EpnFLvUk0yDnObWcEs/s1600/IMG_4564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXjhb_pyrVsbHOvefPBSps_O_3HvIuRZFjbEVTaAU75dayTXhLgd5gELn0HH1OyqFs_buZy81zYEAmdPHOCzCoVEfpAzXK2iWIOj7ZgHu4m3JpheJUsHB_SM0i7EpnFLvUk0yDnObWcEs/s320/IMG_4564.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The posts showed the way.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniaJLyDexhFVzabHF1xwyfRqGX6QKoFWWjxjQzRlIXpLqMDjkhJ36gWQfNKJtZvvtpMMjx-zod-nWQAozbMS4_9GHtkxVJwKG3zDFcyE9k3yIFpXSw2P9tq-iWK-jr9LD6UBYphoSw9o/s1600/IMG_4569.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniaJLyDexhFVzabHF1xwyfRqGX6QKoFWWjxjQzRlIXpLqMDjkhJ36gWQfNKJtZvvtpMMjx-zod-nWQAozbMS4_9GHtkxVJwKG3zDFcyE9k3yIFpXSw2P9tq-iWK-jr9LD6UBYphoSw9o/s320/IMG_4569.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Flowers among the rocks</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <span style="background-color: transparent;">The boys would often climb ahead of me and then I would find them all sitting in a group resting and grabbing a handful of flaming hot Funyuns or whatever bright red thing teenagers love to eat. At one point, I told them that they could hike as far ahead as they wanted but when I caught up to them they couldn't get going again until I had my own break. They were fine with this and it kept us all pretty close together, an added safety precaution we took was I had one walkie talkie and someone among them had the other, this way we knew basically where everyone was at all times. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Somewhere along the line we met up with the three mothers and their obnoxious sons from the resort cafe. This served as added motivation to keep us going many times as my boys (ok, <i>we</i>) couldn't let them "beat" us to the top. So many times, however, we leap frogged back and forth as they took breaks, we would climb ahead, and vice versa. </span></span></span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The boulder field ended and a different kind of difficult awaited us. The last 1000 feet or so to the top was a steep, sandy challenge of taking two steps forward one step back. The ground was soft and each step forward was met with a little bit of slipping downward. The challenge was as much mental as it was physical. At some point, with clouds in our hair, and sand in our shoes, we stopped looking at the ground and looked up at the scenery that surrounded us. The overcast sky was opening up to a brilliant cobalt blue and the nearby Mt. Adams played peek-a-boo almost due East of us. We could finally see the top, or at least what we hoped was the top. It was an amazing feeling to be able to look <i>down</i> on the top of clouds and know that you just climbed through them.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8gtCTolxxuLTtZ-RjYZgsoPopOONuUZwkhhNGRggO4RHoExsuKcF9QADX6uUPi-47101BdSoJKO0kVki2SHREGmpUMv3JDj0aVnjhsvXhyphenhyphen4lV36-VbXGHXLf4oKesGsBha1y_TVc81k/s1600/2016-07-11+11.52.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8gtCTolxxuLTtZ-RjYZgsoPopOONuUZwkhhNGRggO4RHoExsuKcF9QADX6uUPi-47101BdSoJKO0kVki2SHREGmpUMv3JDj0aVnjhsvXhyphenhyphen4lV36-VbXGHXLf4oKesGsBha1y_TVc81k/s320/2016-07-11+11.52.05.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">a cloudy view</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPiBIjVcssB-A4Qj8VVTWDMAwr_7HV4kBLJSw3i0NQavB3BJmH1-h28YqdTTv0a01KA4okPoFIEsZ-2cQt6tde5GiZCSHD3M1ovPOcNFmQsvf_zLINEgXUjNObIfybiHcSuVg-kmNhM4/s1600/2016-07-11+11.44.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPiBIjVcssB-A4Qj8VVTWDMAwr_7HV4kBLJSw3i0NQavB3BJmH1-h28YqdTTv0a01KA4okPoFIEsZ-2cQt6tde5GiZCSHD3M1ovPOcNFmQsvf_zLINEgXUjNObIfybiHcSuVg-kmNhM4/s320/2016-07-11+11.44.41.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thomas and Hunter rest on the steep ascent to the top</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8rI3UKh9fF4XBnUpSL3_pd22BI8VgQQsjkyP3KAGxwb_BahIPi0zrtT6niBRD-b4qLdcB18yQvfGncTpiZV9HJOlb_G2DezQ_nPZVrxPoxI91AT41EmXGb59NK5h4Pv7ImLb51D0KdjQ/s1600/2016-07-11+12.03.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8rI3UKh9fF4XBnUpSL3_pd22BI8VgQQsjkyP3KAGxwb_BahIPi0zrtT6niBRD-b4qLdcB18yQvfGncTpiZV9HJOlb_G2DezQ_nPZVrxPoxI91AT41EmXGb59NK5h4Pv7ImLb51D0KdjQ/s320/2016-07-11+12.03.25.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Noticing the clouds breaking and Mt. Adams due East</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6Oa3eZ2Ipan8xnNgu66IjILQs0nkgYC9XzW9U9VhWoDuUgO6cYGtwqNih0PS4TrxOdkLzqEt9UJK-WllwElMi2bxh-LyaTxl5Nh4pKW9SSCpiXYsq37V8Y0E9s1Wka8onOoGLpvVwwk/s1600/2016-07-11+12.03.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6Oa3eZ2Ipan8xnNgu66IjILQs0nkgYC9XzW9U9VhWoDuUgO6cYGtwqNih0PS4TrxOdkLzqEt9UJK-WllwElMi2bxh-LyaTxl5Nh4pKW9SSCpiXYsq37V8Y0E9s1Wka8onOoGLpvVwwk/s320/2016-07-11+12.03.41.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The boys closing in on the summit</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2tAneTG4ReSJoQr76cCu_DLNNmShBlgFNvwSaVlGaOoj9x4VBO2PVV8d94d6ecZInOi_otW0KpWhF3l78v3zTj3Y4IX8t2V9VelEGFfZ6J4gonkBopf8bP96Kqa7s1IT7aE1Gf41cEoc/s1600/2016-07-11+12.03.51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2tAneTG4ReSJoQr76cCu_DLNNmShBlgFNvwSaVlGaOoj9x4VBO2PVV8d94d6ecZInOi_otW0KpWhF3l78v3zTj3Y4IX8t2V9VelEGFfZ6J4gonkBopf8bP96Kqa7s1IT7aE1Gf41cEoc/s320/2016-07-11+12.03.51.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">whatever works!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHl9tly2CGbHfMjq42bLAH-V1o6RnptdPbNwVucTV9pYO7z9YXEnx_l1lbzc5oZRA-1cODpdfxP6wFF4xBU5pLKgEdZ7rEb-vkWsyReDmsy52Hi5r-FpEWB2eeZtNW56bYQAQgykq3G1U/s1600/2016-07-11+12.21.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHl9tly2CGbHfMjq42bLAH-V1o6RnptdPbNwVucTV9pYO7z9YXEnx_l1lbzc5oZRA-1cODpdfxP6wFF4xBU5pLKgEdZ7rEb-vkWsyReDmsy52Hi5r-FpEWB2eeZtNW56bYQAQgykq3G1U/s320/2016-07-11+12.21.47.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The clouds give perspective to the steepness of the ascent</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9g406Y57av7D5a_0zT7wOcbHyWMqfYwujFA2mAMUcbnP-iKwxtP7e6vCA_O9uvIV3V360d6oZTPPgNRTlqma1NjA3nFBQpw_qzqvw2cUVphLq0pophwmc3g9z5QbINAAC4KDYmuyaOpI/s1600/IMG_4590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9g406Y57av7D5a_0zT7wOcbHyWMqfYwujFA2mAMUcbnP-iKwxtP7e6vCA_O9uvIV3V360d6oZTPPgNRTlqma1NjA3nFBQpw_qzqvw2cUVphLq0pophwmc3g9z5QbINAAC4KDYmuyaOpI/s320/IMG_4590.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Getting close!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Having spotted the goal, all of the boys, except Hunter, hurried ahead with a new energy. Hunter, although he could have easily left me in the dust, stayed with me. I'm not sure if they take turns or if it just occurs organically, but whenever we are hiking one of my boys stays nearby to keep me company. I try to reassure them that I don't mind hiking alone (I actually love it) but they lovingly insist on being protectively by my side and I love them for that. The last 50 feet were the hardest but the scenery now was surreal. </span></span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We could see not one, but two Cascade volcanos hanging out above the clouds, not including the one we were standing on. </span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At the top, small as ants, we could see the rest of our group sitting down watching as we hiked onward, seemingly in slow motion. Hunter and I joked, the view is already amazing, couldn't we just call it good enough and rest where we were? But we have never been "good enough" kind of people, and as the mother/son group was gaining on us, our competitive nature pushed us to the 8,365 ft. summit. </span></span></span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">On the crest of Washington's most active volcano, we stood looking out, where 36 years prior a mountain blew it's top, ash rose 80,000 feet into the atmosphere, glaciers melted in an instant, and 57 people lost their lives. On account of the clouds we couldn't see the cone that has been rebuilding the mountain every year since that fateful day, letting the world know, she is still as dangerous as ever. Exhausted, Hunter and I joined the others on the warmed rocky ground at the top and sat in reverent silence as we took in views of Mt. Rainier, Mt. Adams and Mt. Hood. There were other people up there also, all quietly resting in speechless awe. Our competitors arrived soon and the camaraderie that is shared among those who accomplish a common goal helped us see past any prior annoyances. Not in any hurry to turn around and begin the long trek down the mountain, the boys and I used our packs as pillows and lying down, we napped in the warm sun.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfTf27vIl5mYsCgbW2mByZcuolYlbDp1onx1MX-xMLb3ht09mweR7yttHLcepeCGpUnnEySqpObeD9s-MwEoAJCdLiBL5xn1pdnHWpqr823aq9GyPBdsgRK_Q3iSnO5LizyYKJIJk28k/s1600/2016-07-11+12.41.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfTf27vIl5mYsCgbW2mByZcuolYlbDp1onx1MX-xMLb3ht09mweR7yttHLcepeCGpUnnEySqpObeD9s-MwEoAJCdLiBL5xn1pdnHWpqr823aq9GyPBdsgRK_Q3iSnO5LizyYKJIJk28k/s320/2016-07-11+12.41.49.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Approaching the crater</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgosOtN1Oht6h42lrZWp4pnP45fAR1c6benThOj9ikVe1YdDo5i1ELWv0_cuewawHOL4Wwn5uiNrKUKlA2fsxmMLoXNS38tf9_bXniddeibHj81qd8uME-V1GmpOgcKxnhJjXv3kcdRhLA/s1600/2016-07-11+12.43.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgosOtN1Oht6h42lrZWp4pnP45fAR1c6benThOj9ikVe1YdDo5i1ELWv0_cuewawHOL4Wwn5uiNrKUKlA2fsxmMLoXNS38tf9_bXniddeibHj81qd8uME-V1GmpOgcKxnhJjXv3kcdRhLA/s320/2016-07-11+12.43.10.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mt. Rainier barely visible due to clouds</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUQ1rQuY7anKkH4tCWKm6wptEokRJyp4GacoMmaBli_pUCC_DcF01oAWwJdYOVV7XIlgwXfMPU8YjcexBy6x3MpVkLeAGeB_cb9No5w0CiRNBICZ0A7QzbNo6KOmS4nV-XqckdZ7XR3s/s1600/2016-07-11+12.44.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUQ1rQuY7anKkH4tCWKm6wptEokRJyp4GacoMmaBli_pUCC_DcF01oAWwJdYOVV7XIlgwXfMPU8YjcexBy6x3MpVkLeAGeB_cb9No5w0CiRNBICZ0A7QzbNo6KOmS4nV-XqckdZ7XR3s/s640/2016-07-11+12.44.13.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">on top of the world!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9FuDy3Y4Np7Adl9isxs1_U0uZ8XGBe8S0vUU0-TWvZG4A3oWLAFvpjahMc8QxDSJtMFyJdd13XrUaMCdMCpsYHYxukMX6QtwGaanIzTh6US3QePlKC-cLCXgZUMqLqCW5E_4x3dcnr4/s1600/2016-07-11+13.18.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9FuDy3Y4Np7Adl9isxs1_U0uZ8XGBe8S0vUU0-TWvZG4A3oWLAFvpjahMc8QxDSJtMFyJdd13XrUaMCdMCpsYHYxukMX6QtwGaanIzTh6US3QePlKC-cLCXgZUMqLqCW5E_4x3dcnr4/s320/2016-07-11+13.18.08.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">walking the ridge line before heading down</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKj46M6ixMB0sS3vkd0STaIFLAsoKAcHyoQAgknNZIkZQIVjd7lTmIpyKYFBHT9xFHmmJDVz9nbLpKw1VVAOXTYTtoJ1-9Qk7J7vU7TmD_BE9_xKu7kX_GEDOMa9Y4B4GGYSZsrvZwWE/s1600/2016-07-11+13.44.10-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKj46M6ixMB0sS3vkd0STaIFLAsoKAcHyoQAgknNZIkZQIVjd7lTmIpyKYFBHT9xFHmmJDVz9nbLpKw1VVAOXTYTtoJ1-9Qk7J7vU7TmD_BE9_xKu7kX_GEDOMa9Y4B4GGYSZsrvZwWE/s320/2016-07-11+13.44.10-2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Climbing party 2016</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE63qGfrPOylarS_eUg-KnjWPwvTgG8pCJ6oEQlh0zfwcG1oAqraeLxYNdecGrGN2C21XHS-rRUsydppdEfKTi2_mpvWIduGxDzS-ICLmfV-PecKai3a3HowTc-VYloF4YspsdrgfgWlg/s1600/2016-07-11+13.19.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE63qGfrPOylarS_eUg-KnjWPwvTgG8pCJ6oEQlh0zfwcG1oAqraeLxYNdecGrGN2C21XHS-rRUsydppdEfKTi2_mpvWIduGxDzS-ICLmfV-PecKai3a3HowTc-VYloF4YspsdrgfgWlg/s320/2016-07-11+13.19.36.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sam and I</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What goes up must come down, and we were no exception. After exploring the ridge line for a little while we realized the clouds were starting to increase, we thought it best to descend before we got caught in a rainstorm. Looking down from where we had come, we paused before taking the first step knowing that it would begin the long, knee-pounding journey down the mountain. But without hesitation the boys took off, they ran/hopped looking like they were running on the surface of the moon, I followed behind and in an instant we covered as much ground going down what took us a good length of time and energy to get up. That ashy sand that made our ascent so difficult made descending the mountain a breeze...that was until we got to the boulder field.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After bounding down 1,000 feet in a matter of minutes, we gathered to rest and and regroup before we began the climb down and off the volcanic boulders. It was then that I realized a slight pain I had felt as we left the top had turned into a great pain that screamed for attention. My left knee was angry at me for the abuse I had just put it through. As we sat there, we could hear and see the mom/son group descending in a more careful manner than we had and although we had mentally proclaimed "truce" on St. Helen's summit, the race was on once more. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span> <span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This time Samuel stayed with me. Since there was no right path to take down we figured we'd all just meet at the bottom. The other boys went one way and Sam and I went a way that looked easier. We descended in the fog which amplified sound. Every now and then we could hear voices and couldn't tell if it was the other boys or our competition. After some time we saw Thomas making his way higher up on the slope and he and Samuel goaded each other that is was </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">they </i><span style="font-family: inherit;">who had found the faster way down. It turned out that Sam and I were wrong. At one point, when we were back underneath the clouds we could look far below and see the meadow where the actual trail picked up. Donovan, Thomas and Hunter, looking like ants, were crossing the meadow and heading toward the trail. I was moving so slowly on account of my knee that I begged Samuel to go ahead, as I knew, in spite of his protective instinct, he truly wanted to. After I convinced him I was fine, he left and soon I could see him joining up with the others as they rested far below.</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My knee pain had become excruciating and every move took a lot of effort. This is where that often annoyingly competitive nature of mine came in handy. I was determined to not be passed up by the other moms and so I pressed on. Soon, after being in contact with the boys via walkie-talkies, I met up with them and insisted on all of us resting </span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: inherit;">until <i>I</i> was ready, even though they were chomping at the bit to get going. </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The rest of the way back to the van should have been a pleasant and easy 2.1 mile walk through the quiet and peaceful forest. With my knee hurting, however, quiet was replaced with the voice in my head constantly going back and forth between "<i>you have to keep going, there is a race to be won!</i>" and "<i>you can stop, rest and even curl up into a ball and die.</i>" Luckily for me the former voice beat out the latter. I developed a hobble where as long as I didn't bend my left leg, I was okay. This is harder than it sounds and even the slightest bend had me wincing in agony. I felt completely alone in the forest as I didn't pass a single soul along the way. I rested when I absolutely needed to, but I was determined not to let three women I didn't know win a competition they didn't even know they were in. Funny how the mind works.</span></span></span><br />
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</span></span> <span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: inherit;">After what seemed like forever, the forest opened up to the trailhead and the parking lot where the boys were waiting. I apologized for them having to wait so long and they told me they had actually only been there for a few minutes. I was shocked. It's amazing how a vivid imagination and stubborn spirit can push past physical pain. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfY1MiZQdriDLzYZc3JK9NOp20drY7LovUKBYKlTxY1f_Fx5OVC-XfWv88RGFTwcw7p4K0GKRJ6dk5RGPejNZyt9cFYvxoIQxwoVL_FKVpHUrL7zDCgJLD9kq5IbvtFHKCBeZxi7HKaY/s1600/2016-07-11+13.26.00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfY1MiZQdriDLzYZc3JK9NOp20drY7LovUKBYKlTxY1f_Fx5OVC-XfWv88RGFTwcw7p4K0GKRJ6dk5RGPejNZyt9cFYvxoIQxwoVL_FKVpHUrL7zDCgJLD9kq5IbvtFHKCBeZxi7HKaY/s320/2016-07-11+13.26.00.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Best nap ever.</span></td></tr>
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</span> <span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At Climber's Bivouac, where we began, there is a place to register your permit number, the time you began your climb, your ETA, and the time you returned. We began at 7 am, estimated we'd return by 7pm and were able to put as our actual return time: 4:10 pm. It was a ten mile round trip and we made it in just over 9 hours. It was an accomplishment we were all proud of and one we will always remember fondly. As we loaded up in the van, the mom/son group emerged from the woods. We all smiled with secret satisfaction.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1w3XARPBdmIbPZnhyphenhyphenH7uuxdwGb7muL6fyOz6wOcRgoztWErPjJRab_41cUFV2cu34u-tRDfIrc-bxoJwH9kM6VGLlnyYFSxdlAlFFXqZsl_2wAPmSyf_mgIhuI48j2l58goh7c-HL2fE/s1600/2016-07-11+15.05.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1w3XARPBdmIbPZnhyphenhyphenH7uuxdwGb7muL6fyOz6wOcRgoztWErPjJRab_41cUFV2cu34u-tRDfIrc-bxoJwH9kM6VGLlnyYFSxdlAlFFXqZsl_2wAPmSyf_mgIhuI48j2l58goh7c-HL2fE/s320/2016-07-11+15.05.39.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">back into the clouds on the way down</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzF93ys-PAGxd5A0fQeyTSiEwtoMoyBw_K6kK87zAoRLrkayGrUGJS2EXQqn-kAHqGkPyaO6zBZQDRvQOJ4UJaldoAqfiTBhg5OaX0cqu4wq6MP3ZUh-c7qv4OXcMPBs7nurm8IszQN6A/s1600/2016-07-11+17.12.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzF93ys-PAGxd5A0fQeyTSiEwtoMoyBw_K6kK87zAoRLrkayGrUGJS2EXQqn-kAHqGkPyaO6zBZQDRvQOJ4UJaldoAqfiTBhg5OaX0cqu4wq6MP3ZUh-c7qv4OXcMPBs7nurm8IszQN6A/s320/2016-07-11+17.12.28.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">By the time we reached the van the sun was coming out.</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_dHEsr0NMwGJyYhJra6BGxpQswXT2ZEcCaCnwBV1mLyGVWpttC0HWHPKupJSj8bBjFs1VrnKWatt9tXWABzKqS_5yDks6WE-QSa9gHwls5msPb0Mt3FmR4byMdyrpkStnfD0Zp9QruE/s1600/IMG_4609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_dHEsr0NMwGJyYhJra6BGxpQswXT2ZEcCaCnwBV1mLyGVWpttC0HWHPKupJSj8bBjFs1VrnKWatt9tXWABzKqS_5yDks6WE-QSa9gHwls5msPb0Mt3FmR4byMdyrpkStnfD0Zp9QruE/s320/IMG_4609.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErdF0mON3xqc5BzagUz_Fc36tnpvCk8Zz_DuisSjJi2NT2b0lrfbO4n8zOcZZ3oTllFL3gGcf1WUitcA6sw0ecQ843Djhwrx3NQuv1ZhwXznjnO5OEnyFouzkYfF_JKs8KK2uKI4LLu8/s1600/2016-07-11+13.08.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErdF0mON3xqc5BzagUz_Fc36tnpvCk8Zz_DuisSjJi2NT2b0lrfbO4n8zOcZZ3oTllFL3gGcf1WUitcA6sw0ecQ843Djhwrx3NQuv1ZhwXznjnO5OEnyFouzkYfF_JKs8KK2uKI4LLu8/s320/2016-07-11+13.08.52.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Samuel and Hunter on their "Mom Date"</span></td></tr>
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</span></span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(Click on pictures to see them enlarged)</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #bd081c; background-image: url(data:image/svg+xml; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 439px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 1; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 9382px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;">Save</span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #bd081c; background-image: url(data:image/svg+xml; background-position: 3px 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: 14px 14px; border-bottom-left-radius: 2px; border-bottom-right-radius: 2px; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border: none; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: none; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: bold; left: 439px; line-height: 20px; opacity: 1; padding: 0px 4px 0px 0px; position: absolute; text-align: center; text-indent: 20px; top: 9382px; width: auto; z-index: 8675309;">Save</span>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-17062291938118440602016-10-20T14:23:00.000-07:002016-10-20T14:23:05.697-07:00Writing Myself Out of a Thinking Block<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: arial; line-height: inherit;">If you wait for inspiration to write; you’re not a writer, you’re a waiter. ~ </em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;">Dan Poynter</span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><i>Y</i><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: arial; font-style: italic; line-height: inherit;">ou can’t think yourself out of a writing block; you have to write yourself out of a thinking block. ~ </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;">John Rogers</span></span></blockquote>
I love to write; tales of my adventures, memories that recall tears, love and laughter, stories of truth that others can take comfort in. Memoirs that I will have to look back on if my mind ever fails me. But, have I ever considered myself a <i>writer</i>? I'm not sure.<br />
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I love to take pictures; pictures that tell stories in just one moment, pictures that showcase the glory of God's creation even though that can never be truly captured, pictures that show a persons personality in one shot. But I'm not sure I ever considered myself a <i>photographer. </i><br />
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I'm a mom, a teacher, a daughter, a friend. I have been a student, a firefighter, a caretaker, a wife. These things, to me are tangible, easy to say, because they are, or have been, obvious to others. But to say I am a photographer or a writer, in my mind, means I would have to be able to dedicate myself to my craft without guilt or distraction, maybe even make a living doing it. <br />
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To be a writer and a photographer is my dream (as well as a traveler and an adventurer, but those, too seem to need some tangible evidence) Maybe I am being too persnickety. I think this conundrum is coming at a time when I have been forced to face the writers' block that has been ailing my abilities....but there you go, how can I have <i>writer's</i> block, if I'm not a writer? I must be one then.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-46041876700910741652016-06-11T12:23:00.000-07:002016-06-11T12:23:29.580-07:00It's Summer....and Pouring Down Rain.We are eight days into our summer vacation from school. One whole week was quite warm and on Sam's birthday I had the sprinkler going just to give the kids something to cool off with. Now, into the the second week, it's not just raining outside, but it's raining cats and dogs. The kids are at their dad's, it's late evening, and the sound of the downpour all together make for the perfect recipe of creative juices flowing strongly enough to entice me to pick up my writing again.<br />
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Looking back on my blog, I realize that Thanksgiving was my last post! What happened, was life. Between mothering and teaching and the blurry line that exists between the two, the desire to put my thoughts into words lost out to the desire to put my thoughts to rest. The truth is teaching young students takes a LOT out of me creatively and when I got home on a school day, my brain needed to go to sleep. This is why the kids and I <i>live</i> for summertime!<br />
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I realize my life is changing rapidly and I am trying to not only figure out how to deal with the changes but to relish them as well. One big change is my oldest, Samuel, has graduated from Eighth Grade at St. Mary's and as I try to figure out where his best option for high school is, I struggle with the idea of, "What if I make the wrong choice for him?"<br />
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On the other end of the spectrum, Cecelia is seven years old now and doesn't need me to help her go to the bathroom in the early morning hours while we are camping anymore. This may seem like a strange thing to some, but it was an eye-opening moment for me when, in the cold morning air, before anyone else was awake, she announced to me that she was going to go to the bathroom. Now, we were tent camping at my sister and brother-in-laws property and the only facilities was the "tent toilet" hole in the ground. I asked if she needed me to go with her (secretly hoping I didn't have to crawl out of my warm sleeping bag) and she said, "No." With that, she was unzipping the tent, zipped it back up after herself, and was gone.<br />
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In my half conscience state of morning grogginess, so many past camping trips flashed before my eyes. All the times, of her sleeping with me, waking me up to go to the bathroom not only at the crack of dawn, but all hours of the night. The nights of nursing her to sleep and ever so gently lying her down so I could sneak back to the campfire. The nights of lying her down in our tent and worrying whether or not I would hear her if she woke up. The pictures of her sleeping cuddled up next to her cousin or her sister. The night of her getting sick all over me, all over the bed, all over the trailer. Those days are in the past as she gets more and more independant every day.<br />
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I smiled to myself as I heard her zip the tent up behind her. How <i>easy</i> my life was now! I miss my babies, but I want to freeze them in the age they are right now.<br />
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After I got up that day we were camping, as we stood around the morning fire to warm ourselves, I mentioned to Cecelia how proud I was of her for being able to take care of herself. That was when I found that she didn't make it to the toilet tent. She thought the tent shed used for sheltering tools to clear the land was the bathroom and popped a squat in there....without toilet paper. Her older cousin ended up having to burry her waste.<br />
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So, yes, my kids are growing up fast, but to my satisfaction they still need my guidance and I hope to always lead them in the right direction...whatever that may be.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMklK_XcSQtMUgjIjmqLXo-pYCE2xMZgfp1jjIHHEo2wcEDgs16QYU9nzk0PBfB39ZytwnyctWSW346TUu7jDnFwUqnI9OLxd6V35lnRimLipguloSrK9icqDoeHogON2E519qhcwU3OM/s1600/38665_1300803889404_2310581_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMklK_XcSQtMUgjIjmqLXo-pYCE2xMZgfp1jjIHHEo2wcEDgs16QYU9nzk0PBfB39ZytwnyctWSW346TUu7jDnFwUqnI9OLxd6V35lnRimLipguloSrK9icqDoeHogON2E519qhcwU3OM/s320/38665_1300803889404_2310581_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite thing is to see my children snuggled together.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_l28nZnb7jfUQfDqek4c1Vl4-L3FKrpAxrj0vXMJA75WyuGP4I1_4xLeYAbNpsrL_di_t8a3-ApqF9AMmhSur_MwoLaxkMDnjx8EJ_ThQYyzhy1Vtt8yPYb-XC-JETStvm-TU-2hG5ZU/s1600/35072_1286548813036_6953993_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_l28nZnb7jfUQfDqek4c1Vl4-L3FKrpAxrj0vXMJA75WyuGP4I1_4xLeYAbNpsrL_di_t8a3-ApqF9AMmhSur_MwoLaxkMDnjx8EJ_ThQYyzhy1Vtt8yPYb-XC-JETStvm-TU-2hG5ZU/s320/35072_1286548813036_6953993_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking then....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1SIH9ZE8iFND6guefJLHISXSb43F1r326xaWsMXzxWQZU8QHT2eAJ2jJcisuwAREGs8cXjeYY0S-UkHl9F4AapAl1k1kUq7NVFew5umfQYGpyz3rHwEGID9ik-vMyuGvVQ49urHoKb8/s1600/964697_4574131160540_1509400467_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1SIH9ZE8iFND6guefJLHISXSb43F1r326xaWsMXzxWQZU8QHT2eAJ2jJcisuwAREGs8cXjeYY0S-UkHl9F4AapAl1k1kUq7NVFew5umfQYGpyz3rHwEGID9ik-vMyuGvVQ49urHoKb8/s320/964697_4574131160540_1509400467_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a little later....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwAK75oEjRbKDW7wYNDuwulDHvGinW1FJow9za4Erp-OyKW_ATAHqKacf2l3Hly97HDAbUzIbtpLUAfnVe1yl36E8Y4Lai8ii3FVdgmOyPB6hGNvgjyChLlOaRFiCI8qqsWDm34GzO4k/s1600/13002567_10205420716226565_7446452863506578525_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwAK75oEjRbKDW7wYNDuwulDHvGinW1FJow9za4Erp-OyKW_ATAHqKacf2l3Hly97HDAbUzIbtpLUAfnVe1yl36E8Y4Lai8ii3FVdgmOyPB6hGNvgjyChLlOaRFiCI8qqsWDm34GzO4k/s320/13002567_10205420716226565_7446452863506578525_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking now!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_MxP_cQ6w-6w6tpbAfin5MGj7lP8uIqQGwG07nZWaPd6SC01GSN6k5heuCu28dflbnyEzdw8csNx0pkL61xOCRLVXaMjt9OZzWmgnODkefqhVMccYCcNok1XzefcgEeensHi3kLb8yY8/s1600/13330889_10205789802493491_8239933952297936543_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_MxP_cQ6w-6w6tpbAfin5MGj7lP8uIqQGwG07nZWaPd6SC01GSN6k5heuCu28dflbnyEzdw8csNx0pkL61xOCRLVXaMjt9OZzWmgnODkefqhVMccYCcNok1XzefcgEeensHi3kLb8yY8/s320/13330889_10205789802493491_8239933952297936543_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and now with the boys....I'm the one lagging behind.</td></tr>
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-59458490355900672992015-12-01T13:26:00.001-08:002018-04-08T00:40:45.614-07:00So this is joy....It's an odd year. That means my kids will be their dad this Thanksgiving and with me for Christmas. I am always thankful for odd years. Being without the kids on Christmas is a wound that doesn't seem to heal, but being without them on Thanksgiving always makes me see more clearly the things I am grateful for.<br />
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I was invited to my sister's for Thanksgiving dinner and planned on bringing mushrooms in a creamy garlic sauce and praline sweet potatoes. As soon as the kids left with their dad, I headed to Winco to get the ingredients I needed....the day before the holiday. If the day after Thanksgiving is a shopping free-for-all called Black Friday, the day before should be call Red Wednesday for the color you see when you drive through crammed parking lots and aisles full of people all trying to buy the same items. Traffic was horrific and parking was a nightmare. At some point, while sitting in an unmoving string of vehicles all headed for the same store, I felt an (for lack of better term) out of body experience.</div>
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The sun was glistening on the frost that throughout the day, had never been free from shade long enough to melt. A cloud of steam could be seen bursting forth from the mouths of those passing by as they held conversations from their cars to the stores. It was cold, but nobody seemed to mind because they could finally wear their designer shades again. I stopped myself short as I was tempted to get frustrated by the traffic all around me. Turning up the oldies station, (which, by the way, now plays songs from when I was in high school! What the heck!) I relaxed, told myself I have nowhere I need to be, no kid induced urgencies, and no reasons to stress. So I turned away from the steady flow of traffic that was getting <i>nowhere</i> and approached the parking lot from the far side figuring I could use a good walk. I parked and strolled leisurely into the store with no heightened sense of irritation that usually comes when I am shopping in a crowded store.</div>
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Just getting <i>into </i>the building was a challenge with the cars and people with overloaded baskets exiting the store with looks of 'Get me out of this Hellhole!' I walked slowly and smiled at each person I made eye contact with. Although most people seemed to have a sense of instancy about them, nearly everyone was friendly<strike>ish</strike>. The aisles were jammed from one end of the store to the other. I made a conscience effort to soften the look of my face so I didn't come across as cranky. (This meme comes to mind).....<br />
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Then I took it all in. In produce, a couple argued over whether or not a sweet potato was the same as a yam. In dairy, a mother and daughter complained about the price of eggnog, as did two men when pricing hams. Mothers with a few children in tow looking anxious to be done shopping always catch my attention when I get to shop without my kids. I want to smile at her and say, "I know, I've been there."<br />
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People barged in front of others and others obliviously hogged the middle of the aisle so nobody could pass. Many people saw the humor in it all, however, one man even exclaiming to all in ear shot that, "It could be worse, they could charge for parking!" I walked slowly placing in my basket only the items on my list; brown sugar, pecans, yams, mushrooms, white chocolate chips...<br />
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I felt thankful for the dinner I had to look forward to and the time I would get to spend with family. I also felt thankful that the bulk of dinner was not my responsibility this year, that, I'm sure, contributed to my ability to stay peaceful.<br />
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Above all, remember that the holiday season isn't about the perfect spread of food on a fancy table, or being able to get your kids all they ask for, it's about being grateful for what we are able to do, what we have had in the past and all that we have to look forward to in the future, even if that is simply an eggnog latte, or a warm blanket. This season, I am going to try to remember that not everyone has even those simple things that we are thankful for and I want to do what I can to help those people find something in which to find gratitude.<br />
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Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone. God bless.<br />
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Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-20952643087507082412015-11-16T23:45:00.000-08:002015-11-16T23:45:37.424-08:00"Mom....mom! Listen to me! What are you doing!!?"<br />
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I paused and thought about it as I stood in front of the stove reaching in the cupboard above for a cookbook. </div>
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"I can't remember."</div>
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Four years ago, my oldest son took me by the hand and led me to the couch. I sat down and in a daze I realized my tongue was sore, extremely sore. My head spun and my temples began to throb with an oncoming giant of a headache. I didn't recognize the fact that my five young children, the oldest being nine years old, my youngest only three, were all scared, crying and in shock. Slowly, the realization that I had just had a grand mal seizure began to sink in. I felt sick to my stomach, both from the seizure itself and from learning that my children had witnessed it for the first time.</div>
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It had been at least 12 years since I first found out I was epileptic. Still, to this day, although I have to take anticonvulsants twice a day, I can't even call myself by that word...epileptic. To me, the definition of that word is "someone who seizes uncontrollably all the time and has to take the bus and wear a helmet everywhere she goes." That's not a title I want to wear. The truth is (and this is a hard pill to swallow) I <i>am </i>epileptic, but I thank the Good Lord everyday that He has kept me safe and has allowed my seizures to be medically controlled. As long as I take my pills religiously, day and night, I am seizure free. </div>
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Going back to the night my kids saw me have a seizure for the first time...I have been thinking about that night a lot because for some reason my children have been talking about it recently. Hearing them describe the moments of time that are lost to me forever gives me the chills. I try to put myself in their shoes and can very easily imagine how horrified they were.</div>
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We were sitting around the table eating dinner. That is where my memory escapes me. I remember nothing else until I was brought back to consciousness standing in front of the stove. The only other thing I could tell you is my tongue was swollen and hurt like <i>heck </i>and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. </div>
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This is the kids' version, told to me by Samuel and Benjamin:</div>
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"We were sitting around the table eating dinner and then all of a sudden you got stiff and leaned over onto the windowsill. We all thought you were playing around but when you didn't stop when we asked you to, we started to get worried. Then you fell over onto the ground and began stiffly shaking. We saw blood drip out of your mouth and everyone started screaming. I (Sam) stepped outside because everyone was screaming and I had to get away from all the noise.</div>
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I (Ben) saw you stand up and thought you were fine, but then you went to the kitchen with a blank stare like you didn't recognize me. You went to this cupboard and began to look through these cookbooks that you never used. Sam said he was going to call 911 but you said, "No, I'm fine." and then you sat down on the couch and started to talk to us."</div>
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The thought of my babies having gone through such a terrifying scene saddens me. I was supposed to be their security, their safe haven, their rock.... but they witnessed my frailty. I had been low on my medication for weeks and was taking half my usual dosage and sometimes skipping a dose altogether at that point. I had had trouble with my medical insurance and my pharmacy, and half the time, since I was feeling fine, I didn't even think about taking my pills. This is the pitfall of being epileptic but having the seizures completely controlled by medication. Sometimes, it would be so long since my last seizure that I would start feeding myself the fallacy that I was fine and probably didn't <i>need </i>the medicine anymore. The truth is, I do. There have been too many close calls and too many scares for me to even go down that line of thinking anymore. </div>
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Having seizures has never scared me, how can I fear what I don't remember? The fear that my children have felt, however, thinking about <i>that</i> brings up an emotion I don't even have a word for. It is an emotion somewhere between heartache and horror. One thing, my kids do for me, however, is they tell me their fears without giving me their pity. This I can handle. I can help them calm their fears but I don't handle pity very well. I don't ever want anyone to say, "Poor you!" I don't want to look into well-meaning, though pitiful eyes that feel sorry for me. </div>
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Tonight, I had a scare of my own. While kneeling to pray the Rosary with our block Rosary group at my parent's house, Hunter fell flat on his face as we were praying the last prayers. I rushed to his side surprised, but knowing that he had fainted. He has a history of fainting, syncope they call it. But this time, as I tried to awaken him, he appeared to seize mildly, take a deep breath and then fall back into unconsciousness. He gradually, sluggishly came to, but it took him longer than I remember it taking him before. Getting him into the van, he was clinging to me as though he could barely walk. When we got home I opened the door and he was sprawled on the seat asleep. I had to wake him up again and guide him up the stairs and into his bed where he quickly fell back to sleep. I am praying he will feel fine in the morning.</div>
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Let's remember to thank our Guardian Angels for all the overtime they put in. I am convinced that not a day goes by that at least one of the six Angels that live in our household has not saved somebody's life without us even realizing it. Good night.</div>
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Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-59355837981934740052015-11-05T09:59:00.002-08:002016-06-15T13:39:49.630-07:00A Morning in the Life...5:30 AM<br />
Din din din din din....din din din din din....<br />
Grab my phone, tap snooze.<br />
5:39 AM<br />
Same thing<br />
5:48 AM<br />
ditto<br />
5:51 AM<br />
Totally ashamed, but, yes, ditto again.<br />
6:00 AM<br />
Grab my phone, actually turn it off and (hopefully) get out of bed. Stand in front of my closet for a good five minutes moving my clothes from the right to the left, and back again, as I try to pick out something that I haven't worn already within the week.<br />
6:07 AM (on a good day)<br />
Turn on the lights throughout the rest of the house thinking that it will make the transition from peaceful sleep to rueful awakening a little easier for the kids. Hop in the shower, awwwww, I finally feel awake!<br />
6:25 AM<br />
As I'm getting dressed in the bathroom, I can usually hear the girls whispering just outside as they coordinate with each other how they will surprise me when I open the door. They are both dressed in their uniforms and wait patiently (but not very stealthily) for me to open the door. This happens several times a week and I have to act surprised each time because it is their special gift to me.<br />
6:27 AM<br />
"Oh wow!! Thank you so much! You girls are so awesome!"<br />
6:30 AM (now, I'm running a little late)<br />
Enter the boys room in a sweet voice saying, "Good morning boys! It's time to wake up and get dressed." I leave to finish getting myself ready.<br />
6:33 AM<br />
Samuel knocks on my door ready to go, literally 3 minutes from his wake-up call. I hug him and beg him to turn the kettle on so I can have some instant coffee (how I long for a coffee pot that will have the hot, brown, liquid 'hug' ready for me when I wake up).<br />
6:37 AM<br />
I give Benjamin and Hunter another (not as sweet this time) warning that it's time to get dressed.<br />
6:40 AM<br />
I go through the sweet ritual of making my coffee. Put a teaspoon of the instant variety in my favorite mug, pour the hot water, stir, pour in the half and half, stir, sweeten it with a tad bit of Stevia, stir...sip...Awwwww! My day has officially began!<br />
6:42 AM<br />
Turn into crazed, almost feverish domestic version of a symphony orchestrator:<br />
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6:43 AM<br />
"Get your breakfast, did I sign your homework sheet? Stop fighting and just eat your cereal! Does anyone know if Hunter or Ben have even<i> moved </i>yet? Can you go check? As soon as you are done eating, make your lunch. Have you brushed your teeth? Why are you following me around, no I don't know where your birthday guest list is...why would I, and besides your birthday isn't for another two months. Go brush your teeth, your hair too, while you're in the bathroom. Can you put the load of laundry in the dryer, I think it's been in the washer for a few days now. Hunter and Ben!!! IT'S ALMOST TIME TO GO!!!"<br />
<br />
7:02 AM<br />
"Good morning, Ben, eat, make your lunch and get any papers I need to sign out for me."<br />
<br />
7:14 AM<br />
"HUNTER, IF YOU DON'T GET UP, I WILL LEAVE YOU HOME!!!"<br />
<br />
7:22 AM<br />
"Good morning Hunter, you need to hurry, it's almost time to leave" (I say this every morning. EVERY. MORNING.)<br />
<br />
7:25 AM<br />
"Ok, everyone, get what you need to go and be ready to leave!" I toss whatever I can find to eat in my own lunchbox, brush my teeth, start turning off lights, walk down the hall to get something....what was it? Can't remember, walk back to the kitchen, remember, go back down the hall, grab my phone off the charger and spray on a fresh coat of deodorant because I feel like I just ran a half marathon.<br />
<br />
7:35 AM<br />
"Let's go!!"<br />
"Mom, can you sign my conduct report?" "I can't find my lunch!" "I'm supposed to bring chips for our class party!" "I can't find my shoes." <br />
<br />
7:46 AM<br />
After a brief moment of losing it. I yell to anyone left in the house that I will be in the car and driving out of the driveway in ONE MINUTE!<br />
<br />
The drive to school is usually a quiet time where each is taking the time to breathe, relax and prepare for the day ahead.<br />
<br />
7:59 AM<br />
Enter the classroom to find 12 Kindergartners and First Graders awaiting my arrival.<br />
<br />
8:00 AM<br />
Bell rings....time for the school day to begin.<br />
<br />
Whew!! I got exhausted just recording my morning routine, no wonder I need coffee again by early recess and again at lunch. I'm sure most homes are just as chaotic trying to leave the house and get anywhere on time, give yourself a pat on the back for the little victories. Instead of getting down on myself when I'm two minutes late, I'm going to buy myself a latte just for getting out of bed and facing the next to impossible circumstances that I face once I do!<br />
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-36421247277093491892015-10-10T23:36:00.000-07:002016-11-05T21:41:50.126-07:00The 'Single' Most Difficult ThingIt's been a long dry spell when it comes to writing posts for this blog. I think it has become stale and may be time to think about doing something new. I've been mulling over in my mind what are the posts that I have gotten the most feedback for, what are the topics that touch the most people? Looking back they are the ones that reveal the most about me. The 'honest-till-it-hurts' type of posts that people really relate to. Then, I began to think about the reason I started this blog in the first place, a memoir, more or less for my family, friends and especially my children. It became something more than I ever imagined; a little bit of laughter in someone's day, an inspiration to someone who thinks (quite rightly) if <i>she</i> can do it, I can too! And it became something else, my memory.<br />
<br />
I will be the first to admit, I have an incredibly horrible memory. The other day I was on the phone with my car insurance and they asked me what my previous address was (the one we only moved from in June) and I couldn't for the life of me remember! The rep asked sheepishly, "You're trying to remember the one you just moved from, right?" To say the least, I was quite frustrated. So, looking back at the details of things that I have done with the kids, those precious things they might have said, and the way I felt while raising them, to me, is priceless.<br />
<br />
This year was a milestone for me. Cecelia turned 7 in August, which means I have been a single mother for seven years. My husband left in our seventh year of marriage. So now I have been a single mother for as long as I was married. The thing that surprises me the most is how <i>fast</i> the last seven years have flown by compared to the seven years prior.<br />
<br />
I remember a specific moment when I had maybe two or three kids. A rough day was always made better by the fact that when my husband got home from work, he'd play with the boys for awhile, relieving me of being their sole source of <i>everything</i>! When that time of day came around, I could breathe a sigh of relief, parenting just got easier (at least until the next day). In a conversation about this with my sister, I remember saying to her, "I do NOT know how single mothers do it! It would absolutely be the <i>hardest </i>thing ever." She agreed.<br />
<br />
Another memory I can recall was when I had four kids, and one on the way. I was sitting on the couch with my husband right after he told me he was moving out. "How can I raise the kids by myself?!" I said with a fearful heart and tears in my eyes. He tried to assure me I wouldn't have to do it alone, but deep in my soul, I knew he was wrong.<br />
<br />
Another conversation comes to mind, this one with God. The kids were in bed, my husband had moved out. I was sitting on the floor in my bedroom, tears streaming down my face. I was filled with doubt, fear and anger. I doubted my abilities, I feared my future, I was mad at God. I followed the rules of my faith, I had done things right by saving myself for marriage and got married to a Catholic man in the sacramental rite of the Church, why wasn't He saving my marriage!!??<br />
<br />
I threw a fit right there on the floor. I pounded the ground with my fist and begged, "Why?! Why?! Why are you allowing this to happen?" Then I looked for comfort from the very God with whom I just doubted. I opened a book that was never far from my bedside, "My Daily Bread". The worn, little, red book has been a spiritual comfort in times good and bad. I did as I usually did, trusting God to move my hands to open to the page I needed to read in that moment. It was Chapter 78, it read:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>My Child, believe in Me. Put your trust in My love and mercy. Many a time, when you think that I am far from you, I am very close to you. When you feel as though everything is going wrong, then it is that you can give your best proof of your faith and your loyalty to Me. You are not a failure just because things turn out differently from what you desired. Do not judge things by your disappointment or dislike. Keep discouragement out of your heart, no matter how hopeless matters may appear. Do your best and accept the results as My Will. I am your Maker and your loving God. Your most hidden thoughts are clearly seen by Me. Your eternal salvation is My main interest.....</i></blockquote>
and the last paragraph I finally understand;<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>What I do to you is done because I love you far more than you love yourself or anyone else. When I send you any trouble or affliction, do not complain or become sad. Peace and contentment will come to you as soon as it is for your best interests.</i></blockquote>
It was in reading this, that my conversation with God changed. It went from fighting His will to completely giving in. I flew the white flag of surrender over myself and insisted since this was His will He <i>had </i>to take care of us. I told God specifically, "You are asking this of me, now you <i>have </i>to give me the grace to get through it." I went to bed mentally exhausted that night, but the tides had shifted and I went from being a helpless victim to someone who was going to slowly begin to pick up the shattered pieces of my life and place them together to make a masterpiece mosaic, not by my own skill, but by the skill of the Great Artist.<br />
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That's certainly not to say that I didn't "complain or become sad" throughout the process. There were waterfalls of tears along the way. But never once, have I felt like God didn't have my back. Even through some of the most difficult times, I have been given the grace to be able to look back and see the reason behind it all.<br />
<br />
So, was I right in thinking years ago that being a single mother would be the <i>most</i> difficult thing? Yes. But it's not as difficult as I imagined, and I don't consider myself <i>single</i> in the term of doing it 'alone'. I know I have the help of family and friends and, most of all, my Heavenly Father who promised He would be 'very close' to me. I feel like the 'peace and contentment' has come to me now in ways I'd never have imagined possible.<br />
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Thanks for reading,<br />
<br />
Gina.<br />
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<br />Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5814915854811900902.post-66694651743323812582015-09-29T09:06:00.001-07:002015-09-29T09:06:39.286-07:00Autumn Change and Summer Accomplishments<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">"All things have their season, and in their times all things pass under heaven." - Ecclesiastes 3:1 </span></span></blockquote>
<br />
It's the time of pencils, paper, chalk boards, early mornings, lots of coffee, smokey evenings, spider webs and sweaters (with sandals). The mornings are finally cool, but the afternoons still warm. Here in Washington, there is a haze and smell of smoke that hangs in the air from the tragic wildfires that have ravaged the eastern side of the state. Everyone knows someone who is fighting the fires. May God protect them all. The filtered sun hangs like a red ball low on the horizon, it is a season of change.<br />
<br />
The leaves are beginning to change from lush greens to brilliant golds, talk is changing from "What are you doing this weekend?" to "Did you have a good summer?" and now, our days are about to change from lazy and spontaneous to scheduled routine.<br />
<br />
Lately our days have been spent at the school cleaning, organizing and rearranging the classrooms. The kids have spent just as much time as I have putting work into preparing for this new academic year. One day, recently, we ate breakfast, lunch and dinner at the school. I had to remind one of my sons (and myself) that I am lucky to get to spend the whole summer with them, footloose and fancy free, hours of dedicated work at summer's end is a small price to pay.<br />
<br />
After our parent orientation meeting, I was asked, "What did you do this summer?" When I stopped to think about it, I was impressed with how much we <i>did</i> do. I won't go into to detail, as I already have in other posts, but I wanted to sum it all up for my children so they can look back on the summer of 2015 and remember all the good adventures we were fortunate to be a part of.<br />
<br />
Here is a breakdown of our adventures:<br />
<br />
States we visited outside of Washington: Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Oregon, Colorado and New Mexico.<br />
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National Parks we visited: Glacier National Park, Yellowstone, Grand Teton National Park, and, of course, Mount Rainier.<br />
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Miles driven: over 5,000<br />
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On top of all that, I've run my first Half Marathon and the kids and I have moved into a new home! It was quite an eventful summer. We also got many memorable hikes and finally got to go camping with family for Labor Day.<br />
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Note: written weeks ago, but it started to gather dust in my draft section of posts, so I figured I'd post it anywhoo. Have a wonderful day.<br />
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Gina.Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06097239551665542413noreply@blogger.com0