tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25858366114550367262024-03-12T19:16:50.007-05:00For Sanity's Sake"I know God only gives me what I can handle, but sometimes I wish he didn't have so much confidence in me."
-Mother TeresaEvita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-76799829637317187802012-08-11T10:00:00.000-05:002012-08-12T12:32:53.471-05:00Just for Laughs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Saw this on Facebook the other day - ha ha.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Everyone needs a quick chuckle now and then, right? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4j1UJRYjujnXQglFjZPmMZyvUYKfGabvIYltMLL5xrC_eNNzD3MpZyVfElBZcsl7O0qYj5e8HUqrkYwDZ22VBMWAQwYhpSElupGhZmc1cqllEzfiGzPqY0hAHRmjvuf8VMmrXUkOAB_m5/s1600/Pregnancy+Q&A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4j1UJRYjujnXQglFjZPmMZyvUYKfGabvIYltMLL5xrC_eNNzD3MpZyVfElBZcsl7O0qYj5e8HUqrkYwDZ22VBMWAQwYhpSElupGhZmc1cqllEzfiGzPqY0hAHRmjvuf8VMmrXUkOAB_m5/s640/Pregnancy+Q&A.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><br />
Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-59329401237092035712012-08-08T15:30:00.000-05:002012-08-08T14:25:50.970-05:00Keeping my eyes open...Here's another article from the past. One that I'm thankful I came across again.<br />
I needed the reminder.<br />
<br />
It'll probably be the last I'll dig up for awhile. Fresh stuff is coming soon!!!! :-)<br />
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<br />
I love being a mother. I don't always <em>like</em> it though.<br />
<br />
::gasp::<br />
(I'll pause until your shock wears off - ha ha)<br />
<br />
Now, I have friends that might always "like" it. They say things like, "Don't get frustrated at nap time - cherish those moments..." and "just exhale when they do <em>that, </em>it's not that important" and "don't you just LOVE the story this chaotic experience is gonna make when they're older?!" I usually smile, knowing they're right - but still resisting the urge to punch them.<br />
<br />
I love my kids. In a way that has to be supernatural - because it surpasses every ounce of effort I could ever put into loving them. So this "not liking motherhood sometimes" issue had me a little freaked out.<br />
<br />
I knew my life would entirely change once we started procreating, but it's so much easier to accept that dramatic, giant truth when you don't realize what it means on the day to day scale. And once I started to see my new ... identity... begin to unfold, I didn't always like it.<br />
<br />
I like traveling. It's difficult to travel with little ones. I like ...no LOVE... to read. It's close to impossible to sit down with a book and read more than 3 sentences without being needed during those "early years". (listen to me - I sound like I have teenagers - ha ha. ::sigh::) I like to sleep...well, enough said.<br />
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Something else I've learned about myself is I squint frequently (and not only because my contacts'/glasses' precription is really REALLY old). I squint when I'm frustrated, confused, angry, tired.....etc. It's like my body naturally tells my eyes to only focus on the object in front of me. I lose all peripheral vision and all my attention is on the thing I'm looking at.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmFHdu3FC2icALG3prtZdvPdPf500pE3VaWXtCAeg4lXrCpDm3ddCwPcblubisBNPt3hjtTvpcVD6-DO-ALrU-RdSglAmC91yM9SV0-ehK-EXX9DyVrOt6lZ7e0soYI8rGD_cuu8vER6A/s1600/justeyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="113" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmFHdu3FC2icALG3prtZdvPdPf500pE3VaWXtCAeg4lXrCpDm3ddCwPcblubisBNPt3hjtTvpcVD6-DO-ALrU-RdSglAmC91yM9SV0-ehK-EXX9DyVrOt6lZ7e0soYI8rGD_cuu8vER6A/s400/justeyes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It's not helpful. (and not good for my eyes either)<br />
<br />
It's obvious that we need to see a problem from different angles to solve it. When I can see beyond the tip of my nose my blood pressure usually decreases and I start to see the story behind whatever is frustrating me. And today, on the M5 bus with the girls, making our way home from the gym, I realized I was squinting.<br />
<br />
The girls were really <strike>crazy</strike> antsy. There were just enough people around us for it to be entirely inappropriate. They were accidentally kicking onlookers. They were falling all over the place and elbowing elderly people. (Okay, maybe just one somewhat-grumpy elderly lady.) Every time I'd say through gritted teeth, "Girls. sit. down." or "stop. pushing. each. other." it would just get worse. And as I was squinting I only saw the chaos they were causing.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1DcB-EHwAkJKza4WSPAz3HiBNQy_eYzvQ9mAeSD14tZjqvvyb98878hJJv-dq-s3RNG2utrMH_o3uYO_3hbczAx1gbBoWleGHtUeeqtVvFBf9IkY2mbDRebAQN2x94ISjypLd6wCLBRl/s1600/m5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1DcB-EHwAkJKza4WSPAz3HiBNQy_eYzvQ9mAeSD14tZjqvvyb98878hJJv-dq-s3RNG2utrMH_o3uYO_3hbczAx1gbBoWleGHtUeeqtVvFBf9IkY2mbDRebAQN2x94ISjypLd6wCLBRl/s320/m5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
What made this commute different than most other rambunctious ones is I <strong>caught</strong> myself squinting. I made a choice and WILLED my eyes to open wider. Not only did it relieve the headache that was starting, but it expanded what I was focusing on. I began to notice the bright sunshine beaming through the bus. I saw that most of the people (with the exception of previously mentioned elderly lady) were smiling at my kids and whispering about how cute they were. I saw that although their interactions were playground worthy and NOT bus appropriate, they were laughing and loving each other. My heart began to warm up again.<br />
<br />
I soaked in the moment. <br />
<br />
The tension left my face and I started to smile. I leaned over and whispered to them (whispering always gets their attention), "I love you girls. And I love being your mommy." To my surprise, Elasia smiled at me with that one smile of hers (the one that I'm SURE is going to cause traffic accidents when she's older) and snuggled up close to me and whispered back, "I love being your daughter, Mommy."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXVCze_ikUQDI5AWuAPCkWMcdAkMNFZHuWSTGLzoL4j-KjZwaqEl8rmtHC_y6d0hURw33T1May-YTk8lhyphenhyphengL3VrqSejtzNUo38ro9kaxCoS8quQMaqrVfaAtCGKTy2iIsTllbA5InCwU3V/s1600/elasiakittysmile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXVCze_ikUQDI5AWuAPCkWMcdAkMNFZHuWSTGLzoL4j-KjZwaqEl8rmtHC_y6d0hURw33T1May-YTk8lhyphenhyphengL3VrqSejtzNUo38ro9kaxCoS8quQMaqrVfaAtCGKTy2iIsTllbA5InCwU3V/s320/elasiakittysmile.jpg" /></a></div>
(Now, Qara....well - true to form she took this tender moment as an opportunity to pull her sister's pants down and dump the contents of the entire diaper bag onto the seat she was sitting in. ::sigh:: but she's a charmer herself...in her own special "Qara" sort of way.)<br />
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Thankfully before the magic wore off and before I started squinting at the mess Qara had made, our stop was approaching. I quickly shoved everything back into the backpack/diaper bag and scooped them both up and got off the bus. I let them walk home together in the sunshine rather than carrying Qara. I kept my eyes wide open and admired how cute they were as they skipped together on the sidewalk. <br />
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I saw so much:<br />
Qara's little dimply arms (that I seriously have to <strong>decide</strong> not to bite). Elasia's green bean looking legs that she can somehow move so gracefully. I watched Qara running with abadoned, and as she got closer to the crosswalk, I saw Elasia stop her, hold her hand and wait for me to catch up so we could cross the street together.<br />
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I love motherhood. But I know I won't always like it. I think that's okay. <br />
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But maybe, if I can remember to stop squinting so much and take in more of the picture, I might become one of those precious friends that people like me want to punch.<br />
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just maybe.... ;-)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6QIqY_HEArxEW8QVDuelwjLeLxjkkZGTGkDPpHCJLJfFlm1H1pxte8X6mMjzO9o8eeKh_M8EaCYgqzJbUIvRX6kZRarE0eWXVtVHv4tc5QMn_MawRbMexbO08tlk_eNCzW6zd6tbiOY0/s1600/cocitos.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6QIqY_HEArxEW8QVDuelwjLeLxjkkZGTGkDPpHCJLJfFlm1H1pxte8X6mMjzO9o8eeKh_M8EaCYgqzJbUIvRX6kZRarE0eWXVtVHv4tc5QMn_MawRbMexbO08tlk_eNCzW6zd6tbiOY0/s320/cocitos.bmp" /></a></div>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-47023505147355437072012-08-06T11:00:00.000-05:002012-08-06T09:56:31.434-05:00MMs: Golden MomentsGoing through my older posts, I'd love to repost some of the ones that really encouraged me and gave me proper perspective on Motherhood. This one is from 2 years ago. I still strive to treasure the Golden Moments:<br />
____________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
I have these moments that flash through my mind, usually right before bed time that cause chills to creep up and down my back and tears to well up in my eyes. They are Dark Moments of self-doubt. Moments when I forget that the world doesn't rest on my shoulders and there are Hands that hold my children that are much stronger than mine. The cruel instant-replays of harsh words, bad decisions, and missed opportunities to show love to my children.<br />
<br />
And there are Golden Moments. Moments when Elasia's eyes sparkle with mischief, sloppy syrupy hugs after pancake breakfast, playing with Qara's spring-like curls after a bath and the cuddles. Oh the cuddles. Watching Elasia patiently teach her little sister something or Qara run up to me confessing something she broke with big, bright apologetic eyes.<br />
<br />
Thankfully the scale tips on the golden side of things most days. ::sigh:: Most.<br />
<br />
Here's a peek at one of them from Saturday. We had just come from an early afternoon wedding. We went to cocktail hour with our toddlers and all they had for food was a few chicken nuggets we bought on the walk from the ceremony to the hotel bar where the cocktail hour was being held. Once we got home, I was expecting whiney, over-tired drama. But instead...I got this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6Wa226ZrFVtiU3ICwA1IOurD5LJfOSlyrroNw_tiWxcD5zd1j3wCf8Kpov6mfgyJZlLl2eu58vUzkNY181cZeulesPP7mkeoqNW9geeaatZAKcdzforED7v6djPPgTxiWRXAohs1RIWA/s1600/pileofpeas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6Wa226ZrFVtiU3ICwA1IOurD5LJfOSlyrroNw_tiWxcD5zd1j3wCf8Kpov6mfgyJZlLl2eu58vUzkNY181cZeulesPP7mkeoqNW9geeaatZAKcdzforED7v6djPPgTxiWRXAohs1RIWA/s640/pileofpeas.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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A picture is worth a thousands words. </div>
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Yes, that is a big ol' bowl of peas that they're ravenously devouring. </div>
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No, that is not normal.</div>
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Yes, Qara had stripped herself down to only her diaper and the earliest chance she could find.</div>
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Yes, that is normal.</div>
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We skipped naptime and put them to bed early. And as I sat on the couch after bedtime, with my cup of coffee and "to do" list in front of me, I took a second to be thankful for the Golden Moments. It is proving to be effective ammunition to fight of the sickness in my heart that the Dark ones bring.</div>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-59619128101439905662012-08-02T08:07:00.002-05:002012-08-02T09:11:46.221-05:00Encouragement for my friends<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let's sit on
the metaphorical couch and drink our pretend cup of coffee and discuss things
deep in our heart for a second. Here's what's in mine. It's something I
articulated a long time ago on Facebook, but I've been wanting to shout from
the rooftops lately:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So ... dear
friends young and old, married/"partnered", single, and all the other
categories my colorful friends' may include ;-) (and particularly moms of older
children):<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfk5SAkC1_jyJDu-Ot_al8qWSy9mZ_-BkwZJey52W5LAiZ1LNHLzZeBy2bCon28-bB-Q5iFCG70HIBCaCJgOCSgWTd9bIYb7Yc0f4DinE2swc0Agn9BAQ5lH9DbgZIB7Y0YySYRQ6cZ05i/s1600/rec-old-hand-holding-young-hand-credits-thinkstock-05-08-12-md.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfk5SAkC1_jyJDu-Ot_al8qWSy9mZ_-BkwZJey52W5LAiZ1LNHLzZeBy2bCon28-bB-Q5iFCG70HIBCaCJgOCSgWTd9bIYb7Yc0f4DinE2swc0Agn9BAQ5lH9DbgZIB7Y0YySYRQ6cZ05i/s320/rec-old-hand-holding-young-hand-credits-thinkstock-05-08-12-md.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">You'd be
surprised how deeply uplifting it is for a mom of young kids to hear SINCERE
encouragement/positive feedback from you. Things like "You are doing an aw</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">esome
job" and "They are not going to grow up to be serial killers, I can
tell!" and "You are the perfect mom for these type of kids!"
etc. The"young kids/babies season" is tough on a woman's identity,
marriage, and life in general. One sincere/helpful comment just to let her know
"Everything's gonna be alright, just breathe" can turn a
suffocatingly dark day into a bright, hope-filled one. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Your
words can help frame her inadequacies with grace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just
sayin'.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><u1:p></u1:p>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">What's
in your heart pertaining to motherhood today?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-54396024062164301492012-05-02T13:58:00.000-05:002012-05-02T13:58:07.444-05:00Heavenly ProtectionOn April 2, 2012 at 8:29 PM Amina Celeste Gahagan was born. Her name means Heavenly protection, safety and refuge. <br />
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We are so in love.....<br />
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Sleepy smiles make my day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZX5bKEqMqCk267kq2Qu8nhE69Z2TQdibmjhMetkzQK1JabR3GCjptgPqfUx8FBpMlyOghjqwXi8vIDzVLGS7vz0h9NhYLn3N1JTt0nqaU4UvqKRJWXWFagoto3M5KAqgA8hi94PoLp2cf/s1600/3sisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZX5bKEqMqCk267kq2Qu8nhE69Z2TQdibmjhMetkzQK1JabR3GCjptgPqfUx8FBpMlyOghjqwXi8vIDzVLGS7vz0h9NhYLn3N1JTt0nqaU4UvqKRJWXWFagoto3M5KAqgA8hi94PoLp2cf/s320/3sisters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The three sisters!</div>
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We found out we were pregnant last year during a very high pressure, stressful, and emotional season in our lives. (Hence the lack of posts too.) Having a constant awareness of a life forming inside of me was my accountability to not internalize stress, take on more than I could handle, and enjoy the process. Her little life protected me from damaging my health because of my martyr tendencies. Her birth was wonderful and even at 1 month old, I find that my obligation to her (simply love, nursing and regular newborn care) is keeping my life "manageable" in what could be another crazy season.</div>
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Thank you, God for this heavenly gift of protection.</div>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-76836813217364408682012-01-23T16:54:00.003-05:002012-01-25T16:57:27.600-05:00MMs: How to Feel Miserable as a Mom...I saw a very clever <a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=501946402875&set=a.103122392875.96168.522457875&type=1&theater">rePOST</a> on Facebook entitled "How to Feel Miserable as an Artist" and wanted to pass it on to every artist that I know! Then as I thought for a second, I realized how true and SURPRISINGLY similar a quick list for mothers would be. Here's my mother version, barely edited into mother specific terms:<br />
<br />
How to Feel Miserable as a Mother<br />
1. Constantly compare yourself to other mothers<br />
2. Talk to your family/friends about what you do and expect them to always cheer you on.<br />
3. Base the success of your entire parenting on one season of your child's life<br />
4. Stick with what you know<br />
5. Undervalue your intuition<br />
6. Let money dictate the quality of your children's lives<br />
7. Bow to societal pressures<br />
8. Only do work that your family will appreciate<br />
9. Do whatever your children ask<br />
10. Set unattainable/overwhelming goals. To be accomplished by tomorrow.<br />
<br />
Thank you, whoever wrote the artist list! You get all the credit for this mommy list too.Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-87098999127547155922011-07-06T16:37:00.005-05:002011-07-06T22:10:03.383-05:00Ladybugs at the High Line!NYC is pretty incredible when it comes to parks. (Understatement of the month. I know.) About a week ago I was able to explore the <a href="http://www.thehighline.org/">The High Line</a> with my kiddos, a good friend of mine and her little girls. It wasn't our first time there, but it was special because they were having a Wild Wednesday activity. (There should be theme music everytime anyone says that.) For this particular one, kids were able to learn about ladybugs and get up close and personal with some (read: thousands). Not only could my City Girls get into a bit of nature, but this was going to be their science lesson for the week. Three cheers for homeschooling! Hip hip...HOORAY!!! Hip hip....ahem. Sorry.<br />
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Elasia (my 5 year old) LOVES LOVES LOVES ladybugs so as soon as I read about it - it became a date. <br />
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Here are a few pics from our adventures:<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/AVvXsEi-uvIUhVy_nhrm4_DF5XSihJoJb34PpWd9Od78mpKeFUlxU5X6-QKr_7ntsBI6EREOBlZNUV-RWjd5HfBaiALoIhEOnvTPJH-r-7Z3SoJ-3fVNnPB0uAkclopFc-aIvlHGiQUm_gJTqdxf/s1600/ladybug2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uvIUhVy_nhrm4_DF5XSihJoJb34PpWd9Od78mpKeFUlxU5X6-QKr_7ntsBI6EREOBlZNUV-RWjd5HfBaiALoIhEOnvTPJH-r-7Z3SoJ-3fVNnPB0uAkclopFc-aIvlHGiQUm_gJTqdxf/s400/ladybug2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we were given bags of ladybugs that we could release into the gardens in the High Line park. Very Cool.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-TVc0B-dkRQbiiOaLt2S0J5VEXdQ9kr3KQGx6q9NM1sAqL7r-hbtntVZjs_fpxxt2TcqVKI9V-OIaawwunDtfA4TZuaEwl4Ky9hlR3a83kg-XRlFwFNPGNJZz4lqZ2OWLNPEEJz6lRtf/s1600/ladybug3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-TVc0B-dkRQbiiOaLt2S0J5VEXdQ9kr3KQGx6q9NM1sAqL7r-hbtntVZjs_fpxxt2TcqVKI9V-OIaawwunDtfA4TZuaEwl4Ky9hlR3a83kg-XRlFwFNPGNJZz4lqZ2OWLNPEEJz6lRtf/s400/ladybug3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's about as close as Qara wanted to get to live ladybugs. And yes, that's her "My mom is crazy, I'm pretending to have fun so she won't make me do more crazy things" smile.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVX2wDzZkYjU36AkMPWliBxsyFOuhMpIBo62DN98L0l9UUA4ic-2Frr8SoiMcTC4NwlWLVCCRxQPbsaAK5pAf8KgGeRjFvRY-W-m8WCc7ucorthkm_t-iJg3yR0n8A2-14Kr6WYOJXbU6/s1600/ladybug4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVX2wDzZkYjU36AkMPWliBxsyFOuhMpIBo62DN98L0l9UUA4ic-2Frr8SoiMcTC4NwlWLVCCRxQPbsaAK5pAf8KgGeRjFvRY-W-m8WCc7ucorthkm_t-iJg3yR0n8A2-14Kr6WYOJXbU6/s400/ladybug4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They set up stations where the kids could make "Ladybugs eat aphids" crafts too.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVGFIqhoiXwnoyrekVN6Tjf0ZOWuA0pqKf3InmMA2wWT0xAHin8r_uiR3BUGUVHI2L2gp4H6-leAV5Sbs9Dkxmy24TszmQxEUXN41gbiJDi3FeVIF1c28-hteW0g8__lsEX4DlLJfN_N6/s1600/ladybug1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVGFIqhoiXwnoyrekVN6Tjf0ZOWuA0pqKf3InmMA2wWT0xAHin8r_uiR3BUGUVHI2L2gp4H6-leAV5Sbs9Dkxmy24TszmQxEUXN41gbiJDi3FeVIF1c28-hteW0g8__lsEX4DlLJfN_N6/s400/ladybug1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elasia - my little entomologist, saying goodbye to her little ladybug friend</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
New York City is full of little treasures like these sort of events. Listen to me...I'm gushing like a tourist. But it's true! 7 years later and I'm still in love with this place. <br />
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And I love that my children are growing up here too. :-)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyQitaa8pwvko7qbMVYDWZr6t84ICDDnkmZb3GLyK2LZoJT_S5HZ2Pe4qo-vIhCSSMRyVmi07yRplluY95NfEIdOe3ee43um8ckR22ET4OKnRa2kTW1tt6RlhWxhKKBgf99V1yO2_Grl2g/s1600/i-love-new-york.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyQitaa8pwvko7qbMVYDWZr6t84ICDDnkmZb3GLyK2LZoJT_S5HZ2Pe4qo-vIhCSSMRyVmi07yRplluY95NfEIdOe3ee43um8ckR22ET4OKnRa2kTW1tt6RlhWxhKKBgf99V1yO2_Grl2g/s200/i-love-new-york.bmp" width="200" /></a></div>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-78085129320533696672011-04-16T20:57:00.004-05:002011-04-16T21:31:12.988-05:00Art Appreciation Time!!!It was just over 7 years ago when I moved to New York City. A single girl, full of ambition, ready to change the world - but not sure how. This city's is a beautiful, enigmatic and intoxicating place, but it's not always easy to live here. Sometimes I'd get swallowed up in the "busy" pace of life - just trying to keep my head above water and losing focus of who I was and what I felt my life was suppose to be. I had two places I would ecape to in order to regroup.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0zNygf6Wjsc8x9a4OkwjKqxwMi2THFGB83r3AicgfvhYGzFN-PyoYPAUPzO98r3EI3iA3bbc8FxRj0dcBnCAVWJ6fmJF09izXh_jy31FMxqGwgNqimH_b_ui7hugix5X7PvYNs1KlTzx/s1600/St_Patricks_Cathedral1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0zNygf6Wjsc8x9a4OkwjKqxwMi2THFGB83r3AicgfvhYGzFN-PyoYPAUPzO98r3EI3iA3bbc8FxRj0dcBnCAVWJ6fmJF09izXh_jy31FMxqGwgNqimH_b_ui7hugix5X7PvYNs1KlTzx/s200/St_Patricks_Cathedral1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>One was St. Patrick's Cathedral.<br />
I'd savor the somberness while sitting alone in a creaky pew. Sometimes I'd listen to the organist practice for an upcoming mass, sometimes I'd over hear whispered conversations of tourists taking pictures in the back. I'd sit and think, read and sometimes doze off. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLq8TgTdkEWpu7FeD16GGxHLgYRbvswSs0Rfzg4PaWCTDNoxC1_8HCeTmFUAeONVG5J-UAKjyfta0agbck-Ha_ND2KMm20i2PbwJ2r_EKpjBa-KZlQIhgn1xvis8cZX6R4EtRY1OPOMJrj/s1600/st-patricks-cathedral-interior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLq8TgTdkEWpu7FeD16GGxHLgYRbvswSs0Rfzg4PaWCTDNoxC1_8HCeTmFUAeONVG5J-UAKjyfta0agbck-Ha_ND2KMm20i2PbwJ2r_EKpjBa-KZlQIhgn1xvis8cZX6R4EtRY1OPOMJrj/s200/st-patricks-cathedral-interior.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>But there was something about the vastness of those ornate ceilings, the artistry in those stain glass windows and the hushed murmers of fervent prayers all around that helped me remember who I was.<br />
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The other place was the Met (the Metropolitan Museum of Art). I still haven't exhausted that place and I've visited over a dozen times. My problem is during one of my first visits, I met <em>her</em>. And every subsequent visit, I make it a point to see her again. <br />
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No matter how determined I am to check out a different exhibit, I always find myself wandering - like there's a homing device in my brain - towards European Paintings and then towards gallery #800. And there she is - larger than life, in breathtaking scale:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQGheymb3RJc-DaEEZ9ZQV3N6nTehjycvWRtNbAxylPcge-KAvacBwEkqrsV9HzoxgnwPTyWAqfgHoZcJr36Tn4Q44963-3qUQwBISkKiT_kQfhwyBFRp6Nqqef-8CeI8pxfsrhUM6596Q/s1600/joan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="577" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQGheymb3RJc-DaEEZ9ZQV3N6nTehjycvWRtNbAxylPcge-KAvacBwEkqrsV9HzoxgnwPTyWAqfgHoZcJr36Tn4Q44963-3qUQwBISkKiT_kQfhwyBFRp6Nqqef-8CeI8pxfsrhUM6596Q/s640/joan.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>This is Jules Bastien-Lepage's famous "Joan of Arc" and man oh man, the internet does not do her justice. She's magnificent. From her smooth forehead to her dirty toes. <br />
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Even without direct eye contact, just looking at her reminds me to shake off petty things that can consume my life, to take chances, to dare to dream. Something about her crystal clear figure in the midst of impressionistic images whispers to me "Remember who you are. Don't get lost in the noise."<br />
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If you're ever in the City, she is absolutely worth a visit. Just let me know, I'd be happy to introduce you.Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-80955798105156645522011-04-12T19:21:00.002-05:002011-04-12T19:45:35.068-05:00Silly (read: Crazy) Thoughts on TravelingAdam and I are in Chicago for the next few days, and this is the first time we’ve flown without children since our honeymoon. I know, shocking, right? It surprised me too. The past years have been full of traveling in its various forms: me without Adam and kids, Adam without me and kids, me with kids without Adam (definitely NOT my favorite) and lots of whole family traveling. But never just the two of us on a plane…holding hands with the arm rest up, lazily reading and small talking – even ::gasp:: flirting.<br />
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There was a thrill to it that I wasn’t expecting (hey….keep your mind PG….:-)) Topics in our conversation were funnier, more interesting, more concerning, more world changing… So, I understand I don’t need to go on and on about the benefits of parents having some time alone together – yadda yadda – but something else happened that I wasn’t expecting: Crazy Thoughts.<br />
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As our seatbelts were fastened and we were ready for take-off all these thoughts ran through my mind. “What if something…happens?” “Will my kids be okay?” “Who would I want to take care of them?” “Should I keep my phone out to text them a final moment ‘I love you’?” “Why am I thinking these things?!” “But what about their futures…?” “Which friend, family member, person would I really trust to raise my children?!”<br />
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Crazy thoughts. I been through 2 passports and have flown domestically quite a bit and yes I’ve had fleeting “Whoa – I could die…” thoughts (especially that one time In turbulence over the Pacific Ocean) every once in a while. But I’m SERIOUSLY not a paranoid person. People that know me might even say I err on the side of not having enough caution. Yet for the first time in my LIFE I was consumed with thoughts of what would happen to my children if we both were to die in that plane. I realize it’s more dangerous to drive a car and that the chances are more likely to get struck by lightning then to be in a plane that crashes. But I do call New York City my home. It was this very city that was so deeply wounded on September 11, 2001. And it was this city's portion of the Hudson River that became the impromptu landing strip for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/US_Airways_Flight_1549">Flight 1549</a> on January 15, 2009. Maybe I’ve become more tentative in my “old” age. (hahahahahhaa….)<br />
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There we were – BOTH of us on the same flight. Isn’t it a rule the President and Vice President can’t travel together? (is it? Seriously. I don’t know if it’s a rule or not…) One freak accident and both our girls would be orphans. Crazy thoughts. Thankfully and absolutely Providentially, I’ve been immersed in a world view that comforts me in times of “crazy thoughts”. There is One who cares for my children more than I ever could. The same One who gives me peace when faced with my mortality.<br />
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But it doesn’t stop the crazy thoughts from coming. And….thinking about it now – it makes me chuckle. Am I the only one who ever thinks of these kinds of things?<br />
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::smiling:: I love being a mother. It brings out the best, worst and craziest parts of me.Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-65957304809934601662011-04-10T22:23:00.000-05:002011-04-10T22:23:37.172-05:00Chicago bound and Kid-less?!?!Tomorrow my husband and I are flying to Chicago to attend a <a href="http://www.thegospelcoalition.org/">conference</a>. (I'll probably blog from there - stay tuned!!!) My gracious (and fabulous) mother in law has flown in from Maine to watch our kiddos for the week. Grown up talk, sleep and ::gasp:: make-up/high heeled shoes!!<br />
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Truth: I'm looking forward to it so. much.<br />
Truth: I miss my kids already.Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-51153742438864278372011-04-01T23:36:00.000-05:002011-04-01T23:36:28.741-05:00Cheese AppreciationI'm typically ambivalent towards "feel good" quotes, but lately - I blame it on the sleep deprivation and shallow content of children's TV - I've been soaking up anything even mildly encouraging in regards to parenting. So please forgive the cheese as I share some of the lastest quotes on parenting that have either made me think, smile or love my "job" again.<br />
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Most of these came from a website called "Quote Garden". See, I told you - not for the lactose intolerant. ;-)<br />
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"You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back". ~William D. Tammeus<br />
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"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." ~Elizabeth Stone<br />
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"When you have brought up kids, there are memories you store directly in your tear ducts." ~Robert Brault<br />
"Parenthood: That state of being better chaperoned than you were before marriage." ~Marcelene Cox<br />
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"Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories." ~John Wilmot<br />
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"It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge." ~Phyllis Diller<br />
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"To bring up a child in the way he should go, travel that way yourself once in a while." ~Josh Billings<br />
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It's not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. ~Joyce Maynard<br />
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"Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you. ~Robert Fulghum<br />
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"It behooves a father to be blameless if he expects his child to be." ~Homer<br />
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"It kills you to see them grow up. But I guess it would kill you quicker if they didn't." ~Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams<br />
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"Children are a great comfort in your old age - and they help you reach it faster, too." ~Lionel Kauffman<br />
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"If you want children to keep their feet on the ground, put some responsibility on their shoulders." ~Abigail Van Buren<br />
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"The quickest way for a parent to get a child's attention is to sit down and look comfortable." ~Lane Olinghouse<br />
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"Too often we give children answers to remember rather than problems to solve." ~Roger Lewin<br />
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"There are two lasting bequests we can give our children. One is roots. The other is wings." ~Hodding Carter, Jr.<br />
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"Sing out loud in the car even, or especially, if it embarrasses your children." ~Marilyn Penland<br />
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"My mom used to say it doesn't matter how many kids you have... because one kid'll take up 100% of your time so more kids can't possibly take up more than 100% of your time." ~Karen Brown<br />
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How pleasant it is for a father to sit at his child's board. It is like an aged man reclining under the shadow of an oak which he has planted. ~Walter Scott<br />
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"What a child doesn't receive he can seldom later give." ~P.D. James, Time to Be in Earnest<br />
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"If you want your children to improve, let them overhear the nice things you say about them to others." ~Haim Ginott<br />
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"Give me the life of the boy whose mother is nurse, seamstress, washerwoman, cook, teacher, angel, and saint, all in one, and whose father is guide, exemplar, and friend. No servants to come between. These are the boys who are born to the best fortune." ~Andrew Carnegie<br />
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"Now the thing about having a baby - and I can't be the first person to have noticed this - is that thereafter you have it." ~Jean Kerr<br />
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"Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected." ~Red Buttons<br />
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"Mother Nature is wonderful. Children get too old for piggy-back rides just about the same time they get too heavy for them." ~Author Unknown<br />
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"The guys who fear becoming fathers don't understand that fathering is not something perfect men do, but something that perfects the man. The end product of child raising is not the child but the parent." ~Frank Pittman, Man Enough<br />
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Mother Nature, in her infinite wisdom, has instilled within each of us a powerful biological instinct to reproduce; this is her way of assuring that the human race, come what may, will never have any disposable income. ~Dave Barry<br />
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"When my kids become wild and unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen. When they're finished, I climb out." ~Erma Bombeck<br />
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"The hardest part of raising a child is teaching them to ride bicycles. A shaky child on a bicycle for the first time needs both support and freedom. The realization that this is what the child will always need can hit hard." ~Sloan Wilson<br />
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Most American children suffer too much mother and too little father. ~Gloria Steinem, New York Times, 26 August 1971<br />
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As a child my family's menu consisted of two choices: take it, or leave it. ~Buddy Hackett<br />
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Insanity is hereditary - you get it from your kids. ~Sam Levenson<br />
Humans are the only animals that have children on purpose with the exception of guppies, who like to eat theirs. ~P.J. O'Rourke<br />
Raising children is like making biscuits: it is as easy to raise a big batch as one, while you have your hands in the dough. ~E.W. Howe<br />
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A young lady is a female child who has just done something dreadful. ~Judith Martin<br />
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Children are natural mimics who act like their parents despite every effort to teach them good manners. ~Author Unknown<br />
Conscience is less an inner voice than the memory of a mother's glance. ~Robert Brault, <br />
Always end the name of your child with a vowel, so that when you yell, the name will carry. ~Bill Cosby<br />
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Your responsibility as a parent is not as great as you might imagine. You need not supply the world with the next conqueror of disease or major motion-picture star. If your child simply grows up to be someone who does not use the word "collectible" as a noun, you can consider yourself an unqualified success. ~Fran Lebowitz, "Parental Guidance," Social Studies, 1981<br />
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A child, like your stomach, doesn't need all you can afford to give it. ~Frank A. Clark<br />
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Getting down on all fours and imitating a rhinoceros stops babies from crying. (Put an empty cigarette pack on your nose for a horn and make loud "snort" noises.) I don't know why parents don't do this more often. Usually it makes the kid laugh. Sometimes it sends him into shock. Either way it quiets him down. If you're a parent, acting like a rhino has another advantage. Keep it up until the kid is a teenager and he definitely won't have his friends hanging around your house all the time. ~P.J. O'Rourke<br />
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In spite of the six thousand manuals on child raising in the bookstores, child raising is still a dark continent and no one really knows anything. You just need a lot of love and luck - and, of course, courage. ~Bill Cosby, Fatherhood, 1986<br />
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Ask your child what he wants for dinner only if he's buying. ~Fran Lebowitz, Social Studies<br />
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The trouble with being a parent is that by the time you are experienced, you are unemployed. ~Author Unknown<br />
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You have a lifetime to work, but children are only young once. ~Polish ProverbEvita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-40208061195656127992011-03-27T21:54:00.001-05:002011-03-27T22:30:43.120-05:00In the aftermath of a 5 year old's birthday party....Although Tuesday, March 22nd was Elasia's actual birthday, we had invited all of her "little kid friends" to a Dinosaur/Heart themed Birthday Extravaganza. (Yes dinos and hearts - so. very. Elasia). (side note: Elasia has lots of "grown-up friends" that she adores and wanted to party with too, even though they don't have children of their own. So we had them over for dinner on Tuesday night.)<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1orN-MUUUQ-upkgPw-0YmbBqyEJWSo7WcGi73ToTbPl_khlcWf1Mxbp9Bhu1ruUVEztHMinVFDjb6PAj1rbS8wZmaY6im2he1ooeeQcZaCvn4i_4BNH-LXqA8R2RN-J8RpeolZ2vpZIA5/s1600/dinocupcake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1orN-MUUUQ-upkgPw-0YmbBqyEJWSo7WcGi73ToTbPl_khlcWf1Mxbp9Bhu1ruUVEztHMinVFDjb6PAj1rbS8wZmaY6im2he1ooeeQcZaCvn4i_4BNH-LXqA8R2RN-J8RpeolZ2vpZIA5/s400/dinocupcake.jpg" width="400" /></a>The kid party was a huge success. We had some private space at a chain restaurant and the kids got to: make their own pizzas (chefs' hats and everything!), eat an inordinate amount of sugar in various forms and narrowly avoid death by piñata stick. (more </div>pics to come! That is, once I can whittle down the album to a sane number to share online and figure out how to get it all on a slide show in a post rather than in the sidebar)<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We surfed our way through the <strike>chaos</strike> fun times of Saturday, pushed through a full-scheduled Sunday and now I find myself in ....The Post Child's Birthday Party Zone ::cue creepy music::.</div><br />
There are newly opened toys scattered throughout our apartment, with all their wrappings and plastic and cardboard and twisty-ties littering our floor like confetti. There are slightly deflating heart-shaped helium balloons - floating like suspended animation art- in our bedroom. There are leftover dinosaur favor bags hidden through our place like Easter eggs. And I'm not actually sure where that last cupcake went....hmmm. Maybe we'll find it petrified under our couch next week sometime.<br />
<br />
And there is a happy 5 year old, soundly asleep in her bed and a tired but satisfied mommy, deliriously blogging on the couch in the living room.<br />
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</div>I used to judge, misunderstand, or just plain ignore moms who throw "themed" parties. I used to see it as an unhealthy extravagance in the light of world poverty...yadda yadda yadda. I was just ridiculously ignorant like that. But now ... I understand. I know what it's like to love a child so deeply you would give your right arm to make every birthday wish come true. I know what it's like to look at the limited resources you have available and figure out a way to make something spectacular within your means - to stay up late making the decorations by hand (because it's cheaper AND because even in New York City it's tough to come by heart-shaped dinosaur decorations).<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUVUS3vU9H6LCC2YMgrQ9HWHR9-tJG6WrYggCFKlvAYz4DCsmkZvaEQ1sAwQUsqDYFupW6eaGGKG3YdYYFjRJwmtoowQa1-NyGn7_jMk0wHmHJC11xXMxRq5gROmNIdwEfUvtEqgk2mp5/s1600/chef+Elasia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUVUS3vU9H6LCC2YMgrQ9HWHR9-tJG6WrYggCFKlvAYz4DCsmkZvaEQ1sAwQUsqDYFupW6eaGGKG3YdYYFjRJwmtoowQa1-NyGn7_jMk0wHmHJC11xXMxRq5gROmNIdwEfUvtEqgk2mp5/s400/chef+Elasia.jpg" width="265" /></a>I still value minimalism in my kids expectations. I still stress that they should be grateful for anything they get in the birthday category. (Seriously - anything.) So far it's going well. But I also know from first-hand experience what it feels like to overhear your daughter telling her friend, "I really like hearts AND I like dinosaurs. Did you know that a brachiosaurus was a herbivore and that the T-Rex was...." and then feeling like my goal for the next month was to somehow fill her world with hearts of every color and dinosaurs. I look at her smile and I <strong>feel</strong> it. I'd move mountains for that little girl. Just 'cause.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">But yeah, I'm wiped. And I probably over-committed/over-extended/over-spent myself this weekend. But to the nagging little judging voice in my head - I say - she's only 5 once. And I'm smiling as I put my feet up and watching Iron Chef tonight. </div><br />
It was totally worth it.Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-52304031920731115862011-03-21T16:12:00.001-05:002011-03-21T16:14:05.483-05:00Motherhood Mondays: Tomorrow's the day!!You know - people say "Enjoy those early years...it flies by so quickly..." but I kinda disagree. The first few years of this adventure called Motherhood seemed to drag on and on and on. I feel like I aged 10 years for every week my baby grew. On a micro-level, I adore my children. On a macro-level, I'm STILL trying to figure out what "mothering" entails.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow is a HUGE day. Tomorrow morning our living room will be filled with pink balloons and streamers will be hanging from the ceiling. We'll have a cupcake for breakfast and spend most of the day celebrating our fabulous birthday girl.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Elasia Hope will be 5!!!! </div><br />
I remember that first year, feeling swallowed alive by this new role in life - 5 years old seemed so far away! And here it is. Here she is. Such a work of art. Such a gift from God. A reminder daily, in our crazy lives, that - as her name means - God is the God of Hope<br />
<br />
I'm so excited.......<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">from this:</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxULKIPbnQZAqMebyE82sdgVOk4OSoA4j-2LR5gSabrspE2AEVXC7i35QkLQi_KmKkm_su542gysbvoyArLTKadDGanGvOhkm576plJxdP_EkRA13kBxeVa9eYSDVgnoxqCYan-F1_9Fqf/s1600/beedo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxULKIPbnQZAqMebyE82sdgVOk4OSoA4j-2LR5gSabrspE2AEVXC7i35QkLQi_KmKkm_su542gysbvoyArLTKadDGanGvOhkm576plJxdP_EkRA13kBxeVa9eYSDVgnoxqCYan-F1_9Fqf/s400/beedo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJizskeasNK85hRhtwwdrErr3krL7O_h0pZbX7SCGn9GSbddKjANesCYRbdi9JvN7HFcWtWDyCyZI8EwNbpYmR-gW1x76ANYcJTN_tuHNcqJdVxBXDZnvsMSCalbEUg8gEpCR9E8E6_mk/s1600/2%255B2%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJizskeasNK85hRhtwwdrErr3krL7O_h0pZbX7SCGn9GSbddKjANesCYRbdi9JvN7HFcWtWDyCyZI8EwNbpYmR-gW1x76ANYcJTN_tuHNcqJdVxBXDZnvsMSCalbEUg8gEpCR9E8E6_mk/s400/2%255B2%255D.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><br />
We made it, my precious Bee-Do!! We made it to 5yrs old!!!<br />
<br />
love you muchly,<br />
your mommaEvita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-64795077844567519762011-03-17T15:48:00.002-05:002011-03-17T15:55:28.932-05:00Happy St. Patrick's Day!In honor of my husband, whose entire last name and....ancestrally speaking...whose WHOLE pinky finger is Irish ;-) <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: large;">Happy St. Patrick's Day!</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHw-P6o6PP8GqljzIVHU-jXLsD69gucYtGT5gBUvyeqfGjczPJ_jqeds9E5u_cHfyTGYAJ3dqiBi_L1FW8MKtCx4uQDBvT4NQq1RHJcWGB0ayeHMn5bv06EopGbVEuNt0W9wKHTvAInycD/s1600/1stpatty2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHw-P6o6PP8GqljzIVHU-jXLsD69gucYtGT5gBUvyeqfGjczPJ_jqeds9E5u_cHfyTGYAJ3dqiBi_L1FW8MKtCx4uQDBvT4NQq1RHJcWGB0ayeHMn5bv06EopGbVEuNt0W9wKHTvAInycD/s400/1stpatty2011.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
much love from Hamilton Heights!Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-60769860096046418792011-03-12T16:50:00.001-05:002011-03-12T16:53:49.230-05:00Art Appreciation!!Art Appreciation? Yep - like that class I had to take in high school. (truth: It was the class where, although the teacher was wonderfully "artsy" and kind, I learned nothing really and spent most of that time passing notes, making plans for the weekend and ...well...getting into trouble.) <br />
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I have this alter-ego inside of me and it's asleep most days. It's an artist. The anti-<span style="background-color: white;">artsy </span>side of me is usually the more practical one that gets me through most days of mothering, being a wife of a very busy man, etc etc. But then the other me wakes up, usually when I don't expect it...snorts and grunts a little and I see "beauty" that I've overlooked in everyday life. I see potential in raw materials. I feel stories bubble up from my belly that just NEED to be told. I hear music that makes me want to shout and cry at the same time. I couldn't live like that all the time. I feel things too strongly and I'm sure I would spontaneously combust. But I like how that version of "me" pokes its head out every once in a while to make sure things aren't boring.<br />
<br />
So that's why this post - and maybe future ones along this line will be called "Art Appreciation". Partly in penance for my delinquency in that poor sweet teacher's art class (See! I did "open my mind"!! I promise!) and partly to share when I find cool things that the "arsty me" can't just overlook. :-)<br />
<br />
Today I can't get enough of Mumford and Sons song "The Cave". Yep, it's popular. Yep, it's even trendy. But looking at it from an artistic point of view - it's AWESOME! Music, lyrics....everything.<br />
The video is below - but you gotta read the words first. :-)<br />
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THE CAVE:<br />
It's empty in the valley of your heart<br />
<br />
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk<br />
Away from all the fears<br />
And all the faults you've left behind<br />
<br />
The harvest left no food for you to eat<br />
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see<br />
But I have seen the same<br />
I know the shame in your defeat<br />
<br />
But I will hold on hope<br />
And I won't let you choke<br />
On the noose around your neck<br />
<br />
And I'll find strength in pain<br />
And I will change my ways<br />
I'll know my name as it's called again<br />
<br />
Cause I have other things to fill my time<br />
You take what is yours and I'll take mine<br />
Now let me at the truth<br />
Which will refresh my broken mind<br />
<br />
So tie me to a post and block my ears<br />
I can see widows and orphans through my tears<br />
I know my call despite my faults<br />
And despite my growing fears<br />
<br />
But I will hold on hope<br />
And I won't let you choke<br />
On the noose around your neck<br />
<br />
And I'll find strength in pain<br />
And I will change my ways<br />
I'll know my name as it's called again<br />
<br />
So come out of your cave walking on your hands<br />
And see the world hanging upside down<br />
You can understand dependence<br />
When you know the maker's hand<br />
<br />
So make your siren's call<br />
And sing all you want<br />
I will not hear what you have to say<br />
<br />
Cause I need freedom now<br />
And I need to know how<br />
To live my life as it's meant to be<br />
<br />
And I will hold on hope<br />
And I won't let you choke<br />
On the noose around your neck<br />
<br />
And I'll find strength in pain<br />
And I will change my ways<br />
I'll know my name as it's called again<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3KkUeRPjc-Y?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" width="640"></iframe>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-73691340367549635022011-03-09T17:12:00.003-05:002011-03-09T22:44:22.950-05:00Courage and my 4 year old<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Mandatory yet unrelated update: we think I have Adrenal Fatigue Syndrome. Boo Hiss. Might be more on that in a future post. Maybe not though. We'll see.;-) )</span><br />
<br />
Every summer and family vacation...well, any chance we can get...our family gets in the water. We also feel that "real" swimming is a valuable gift to give to our children, not to mention a HUGE safety issue. Elasia is old enough (turning 5 in a few weeks) and we found a class that was 8 sessions long with an opening down on 14th street at a very nice YMCA and took the jump financially.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZjmsGGi3UVPdGld9nAZW8VaROzeAtvD1pPyKS9adNbwAWdlkcH0IIaHW0YTXEbrqHU8Jm900bh3hKfdWVfjY4YAqY4E2kWMFzzKyW3THlrVfWuBy8XFV_41Tiv485Rw1Jc5m2xsDUhYn/s1600/gone+swimming.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZjmsGGi3UVPdGld9nAZW8VaROzeAtvD1pPyKS9adNbwAWdlkcH0IIaHW0YTXEbrqHU8Jm900bh3hKfdWVfjY4YAqY4E2kWMFzzKyW3THlrVfWuBy8XFV_41Tiv485Rw1Jc5m2xsDUhYn/s320/gone+swimming.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">And that's how Elasia began swim classes. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This was her first time taking "real" classes. She qualified for the class where I don't have to get in the pool with her (which was wonderful, because what would I have done with my little monkey a.k.a. Zaqarah? I'm sure the YMCA staff would've had to call 911 within the first 10 minutes of class because she had managed to slip away and gotten herself stuck on the roof. I'm sure of it.) Elasia is very cautious by nature, and has never been in a pool with out us. I was pretty apprehensive leaving my little scrawny green bean alone with a handful of kids and 1 instructor.</div><br />
I watched from the nearby giant window. The whole class lined up by the side of the pool. It was then I realized that the odds were stacked against Elasia being able to get through this class with out a royal "freak out".<br />
<br />
1. Everyone was older than her.<br />
2. Everyone had taken swim classes together last season at this same YMCA and knew each other. Elasia didn't know any of them and this was the first time she stepped foot in this building.<br />
2. She was the only girl. <br />
3. The kind lady she thought was the instructor went into the office. A man she didn't know jumped in the pool and motioned for the children to get into the pool one at a time. <br />
<br />
I saw her legs tremble. I saw her wring her hands. She looked up, bottom lip trembling, to where she knew I was watching, looking for some kind of reassurance from me. I waved, gave her a thumbs up and a smile. (Truth: it took EVERYTHING in me to not crash through that glass, run across the pool deck and scoop my little girl in my arms and tell her we'll wait 'til next year.) I had to steel myself and see what she would choose.<br />
<br />
And then it happened. She took a deep breath, knees still knocking, wrinkled her little nose with determination and willed her body to sit at the edge of the pool. Every other kid slid right into the pool, as if they had the process memorized. They held on to the side of the pool and started kicking. <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I watched her wipe a tear that had snuck out of her eyes and down her cheek. Her nose still wrinkled in resolve, she looked up again and smiled at me. (smiled?! I still can't believe it.)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">She tentatively slid into the pool and held on to the side and....... began her kicking.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD-YQ8SmQoMmbe-Yh51j2hiyUekVKaigImrVHvttExTV1kShOd8TOu10XxrZrtnXKeAF979NjBe4Sr892VcfEpLMyXe3d3XjFvh_kxwSGRZntYTMu9hdSvmJlpnH4owNr_J9AWX1jSER3D/s1600/swimclass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD-YQ8SmQoMmbe-Yh51j2hiyUekVKaigImrVHvttExTV1kShOd8TOu10XxrZrtnXKeAF979NjBe4Sr892VcfEpLMyXe3d3XjFvh_kxwSGRZntYTMu9hdSvmJlpnH4owNr_J9AWX1jSER3D/s400/swimclass.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
With the other moms and their "been there, done that" expressions, I knew I couldn't really just scream with joy right there. But I really could've flown to the moon and back!! I had just watched one of the most courageous people I've ever known make a really brave choice!!! I know my little girl. I know what situations are difficult for her, and those same situations might not even be an issue for her little sister - or even anyone else. <br />
<br />
Because of things we couldn't have known or foreseen, this swim class was set up to be one of the single most difficult things for Elasia specifically. And she was brave. She chose to look her fear, her discomfort, her insecurity...all of it in the face...and she chose to go through with it. <br />
<br />
Now, would it have been okay if she had a melt down at the side of the pool, crumpled up in sobs and I had to sit with her in the lounge until she calmed down. Yes. (because she IS only 4, people.) I would've been set back a large chunk of change, as the classes are non-refundable, but I wouldn't set my daughter up for unnecessary torture. And of course, I wouldn't have shamed her. I would have been disappointed, but I'd have understood. I know life is going to present so many more of these same moments. I honestly would have been okay with "no way, Mommy" on this one.<br />
<br />
But she chose to be brave. And her little determined, tear-streaked face is etched in my memory as a permanent book mark...a reminder.... for me to make similar choices.<br />
<br />
When I'm tired and frustrated and it is easier to scream, yell and demean my children - I must choose to be brave, and be their hero. To lay down my own emotions to help them through the tricky paths of childhood.<br />
<br />
When I'm intimidated by potential for failure, I've got to choose to be brave and take risks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">When I'm afraid of the consequences that my choices may have on the relationships I hold so dear, I need to be brave, to choose honesty and transparency - to live with integrity, as this is the only way to true intimacy.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71DlAYDw96Hq-9A6ZI550PvcCEOyL8Ia62Mklmb7e-TO5e3nD2gqNJ0Ohl8j6rZyk7dzpSNb_v1YmDzH33x5wfh9ChqvYWXWYFvD_HiBPBy3dEkyLEvnVLiD46ztdrvYWUJFOybFSCvzI/s1600/swimmer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71DlAYDw96Hq-9A6ZI550PvcCEOyL8Ia62Mklmb7e-TO5e3nD2gqNJ0Ohl8j6rZyk7dzpSNb_v1YmDzH33x5wfh9ChqvYWXWYFvD_HiBPBy3dEkyLEvnVLiD46ztdrvYWUJFOybFSCvzI/s400/swimmer.jpg" width="298" /></a> </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I learn so much from my precious Elasia Hope. From her sensitivity to others feelings, her care for the overlooked, her quick wit and intelligence...my list could be a mile long. (And she's only turning 5!) But what I needed and what I've learned from her these past few weeks going to swim class is:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It's possible to choose courage, even if you don't "feel" it. (and if you cry when your scared, it's okay.)</div><img height="96" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71DlAYDw96Hq-9A6ZI550PvcCEOyL8Ia62Mklmb7e-TO5e3nD2gqNJ0Ohl8j6rZyk7dzpSNb_v1YmDzH33x5wfh9ChqvYWXWYFvD_HiBPBy3dEkyLEvnVLiD46ztdrvYWUJFOybFSCvzI/s320/swimmer.jpg" style="filter: alpha(opacity=30); left: 191px; mozopacity: 0.3; opacity: 0.3; position: absolute; top: 1591px; visibility: hidden;" width="72" />Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-2221862859026369262011-01-24T20:38:00.000-05:002011-01-24T20:38:47.952-05:00Under Construction?It's been just over 3 months since...I lost my ability to think clearly. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOGoyBPnqjs1NgbV8WLuKp159ZBBpYTFGyexJjBiUoDQfO1JeWoiqY6nBn-FjOM7jptHSx5Y3FLoLYViKaF0KUBp4xxfvX5gluzV05OMo7jXbiOzi55ViNmf5R7pfIqKfwAv9xHgYAK9Mv/s1600/under_construction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOGoyBPnqjs1NgbV8WLuKp159ZBBpYTFGyexJjBiUoDQfO1JeWoiqY6nBn-FjOM7jptHSx5Y3FLoLYViKaF0KUBp4xxfvX5gluzV05OMo7jXbiOzi55ViNmf5R7pfIqKfwAv9xHgYAK9Mv/s320/under_construction.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Okay, I'm being a little dramatic (hey, being Puerto Rican gives me some license, right?)... But something is going on in me that I haven't quite figured out yet. It could be as simple as stress-induced fatigue, or as complicated as - well, I don't know what. That's the thing - not knowing what's wrong with me is driving me a little batty. (There are still a few more doctors' appointments to be had)<br />
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Whatever it is, it's leaving me tired for at least half the day, forgetful (more than your average mommy brain), nauseous (at times) and unable to process life without help. It's vague and hard to articulate. And leaves me feeling "bad" most nights.<br />
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So that's were I've been. I have so much in my brain I want to get out - so many ideas that would make great "blog entries", so much that I NEED to express because God made me a writer and dang it, sometimes I HAVE to just write....But they're stuck in a gridlock-type traffic jam in my tired mind.<br />
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We'll see if I can get the traffic to clear up - it may even be therapeutic for me in this whole "what's going on in my body?" season. 'Til then, let's just say that this blog and my life are Under Construction.<br />
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Sending so much love from the Big Apple,<br />
EvitaEvita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-36458899471929139022010-11-10T10:56:00.005-05:002010-11-10T13:08:12.705-05:00on being sick as a SAHM...MMs on a Wednesday.My mind is foggy (hence the Motherhood Monday reflection on a Wednesday), my wit (if there was any) escapes me and I find myself wishing I would have rationed that last swig of DayQuil. (The drugstore seems like 1,000 miles away right now) <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLohMuWElAlqAwVsjbwDGnlZ0pbbcOTdl209i_R9aPfP9TFsZBG9G3liWYXEi1s3m8galFUuZ4x11cuE1vc5SbvBtJPHbG_c1sQ-rbwgg62hsJjxWN7l1McUUsi7FQveORVDivvO26Xyeg/s1600/Tissues.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLohMuWElAlqAwVsjbwDGnlZ0pbbcOTdl209i_R9aPfP9TFsZBG9G3liWYXEi1s3m8galFUuZ4x11cuE1vc5SbvBtJPHbG_c1sQ-rbwgg62hsJjxWN7l1McUUsi7FQveORVDivvO26Xyeg/s1600/Tissues.jpg" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>I promise I have a high pain tolerance and I'm not generally a "bad" or whiney sick person - my husband always uses the example of when we were in Morocco and a parasite ate a hole in my small intestines and I thought I just had a really bad upset stomach. Or when I was in labor with Elasia and thought it was just "Braxton Hicks" for so long that when I went in to the hospital, I was already 4-5 cm and Elasia was born 4 hours later.</div><div><br />
</div><div>But man, this cold/flu/virus/whatever-this-is has really wiped me out - and for like 6 days already!!! I thought I was more hardcore than this! I can't think straight, there are piles of tissues on every surface in our apartment, I'm generally exhausted all the time. The coughing, sneezing, headaches, stuffed nose...it's all wearing away at my "hardcore-ness". It's the tediousness of this ....I don't know WHAT it is....that's killing me!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Besides coming to terms with my mortality (ha ha - which is age appropriate now that I'm in my 30's, right?), I realized another rather beautiful thing. </div><div><br />
</div><div>1 week ago, I felt fine. I also felt rather stressed. Nothing out of the normal though, just that low-grade stress that most mothers must feel. "Am I forgetting something? What is that smell? Shoot, I didn't take something out for dinner! Why is she crying? Where did she hide my keys? Did I remember to call so-and-so-back or did I just imagine that?" And the list goes on and on. I believed that I had to hold everything together: in my life, these little dependent lives, and for our family. I'm the team member who "holds down the fort" at home. It's a lot of weight to carry around (real or exaggerated by my personality) but I didn't mind much. But it was slowly wearing me out.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Then I got sick. Just a silly common mystery cold-flu-virus thing, really - nothing MAJOR. And all of a sudden I could do NOTHING. Seriously. Like on Saturday - it was a major accomplishment to put on my winter coat (over my PJs) hobble down a hill to pick up our girls from ballet and slowly walk back home. I felt like I had just summited Everest. Now, Saturday was the worst of it and every day I've been getting progressively better. But I'm still waiting for that morning when I wake up and feel......normal. </div><div><br />
</div><div>It's not here yet.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlc951IAq4ejitm5Oqd1yx8aF3_S6ABgX8lHPeeGUU70m-woQMo8-nWjgRMFCl8pbsYrQvVdIQvSRMhpMM-3I8RS6NsDB9ABgy4iSZMBFxw5CigCsqbKh_D3Kocj6Kn5tI9qgt949PQ4ji/s1600/vcks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlc951IAq4ejitm5Oqd1yx8aF3_S6ABgX8lHPeeGUU70m-woQMo8-nWjgRMFCl8pbsYrQvVdIQvSRMhpMM-3I8RS6NsDB9ABgy4iSZMBFxw5CigCsqbKh_D3Kocj6Kn5tI9qgt949PQ4ji/s320/vcks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>So living on a steady diet of toast, DayQuil/NyQuil cocktails, and lots of water/apple juice, I've realized something. Life has been happening. The show is going on. Now this is NOT to underplay the FANTASTIC job my husband is doing at catching EVERYTHING that I'm unable to do in addition to all that he does already. (Babe, you were STELLAR this weekend!!), but I LOVED realizing I'm not <b>that </b>big of a player in regards to the welfare of all of mankind. Phew. That's a relief! :-)</div><div><br />
</div><div> I can eek out enough energy to feed the girls, get out a little, clean up a bit after us, play with them/do school with them, heck - we even went ice skating last night. (I was much slower and a lot less daring, but it was bona fide ice-skating!)</div><div><br />
</div><div>I realized that despite my daily tasks that make up the very real job that I have (and no one else can fulfill), a lot of that "stress" I was feeling was unnecessary. Yes I have to take something out of the freezer by 3 PM if we're going to eat dinner, but if I forget - really - is the world going to end? Exhale, Evita.<br />
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Maybe no one else thinks like I do, and you're reading this thinking I'm crazy - but I tend to take responsibility for everything...and if no one is doing something that needs to get done - well I have to do it!</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDretwwfSCQ1I2p6GYeF-JODWy1S3ovuWisl1Aq-g47c3xE3enrDpeCq_eCHZ2UBaib4ygLn8tyMcXV9Z9VjRgA1LaXhvw_dr8OyFRSrExhOQ1IIkT7dHWK2OJW1fRgaZHj0GDJZhOsQJ/s1600/superman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDretwwfSCQ1I2p6GYeF-JODWy1S3ovuWisl1Aq-g47c3xE3enrDpeCq_eCHZ2UBaib4ygLn8tyMcXV9Z9VjRgA1LaXhvw_dr8OyFRSrExhOQ1IIkT7dHWK2OJW1fRgaZHj0GDJZhOsQJ/s200/superman.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div>So while I don't enjoy being sick, I'm grateful for the perspective it's helping me have. Because for someone like me - knowing that "it all doesn't depend on me" is EXACTLY what I need to hear to motivate me to take personal ownership and challenge me to revolutionize this world.<br />
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...one poopy diaper at a time...;-)</div>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-42174036269476357602010-10-16T22:12:00.002-05:002010-10-16T22:24:20.140-05:00Vacation Recap Part "Uno" :-)Today was our first day "back" in 2 weeks. My, how time flies when you're having fun. For those who've been asking "How was it?" or "Did you have fun?" or "Did the girls do okay with international travel?" this post is dedicated to you! Here are some pics from our first week of vacation - which we spent in Playas del Coco, Guanacaste, Costa Rica.<br />
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After spending our first night in San Jose because most of the major roads to the coast were closed (record-breaking rain caused flooding, mudslides and all sorts of fun-ness) we set out Sunday morning - hoping for the best!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6D8eRp5Xpkq0i9dJOvCyLp1fgsJmsrv5N2miKuInzEmmNL1AqtIGfNHBwPqO-TfOSz4qF3KnAnybEFRYFYY2fIXhUYynhNbACZkAcED_FJkTZDZbw4lnEkNxXRmhHs6gSSPj41vHLBtfI/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6D8eRp5Xpkq0i9dJOvCyLp1fgsJmsrv5N2miKuInzEmmNL1AqtIGfNHBwPqO-TfOSz4qF3KnAnybEFRYFYY2fIXhUYynhNbACZkAcED_FJkTZDZbw4lnEkNxXRmhHs6gSSPj41vHLBtfI/s320/001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Such a gorgeous country!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigM7_h-tJcfgLOaBEo7ZOkxCip1D-W0dddFKmRTu2Zv2WH0GpOL6ut3XYQ9Ez8DHLneHlzyeTGbN4QB4YfLQE0xxsG0wMfGPR04l0PWGZqLUUEUAtoBuPACQxQoDMgsq8J2zpt7RqK6mWQ/s1600/002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigM7_h-tJcfgLOaBEo7ZOkxCip1D-W0dddFKmRTu2Zv2WH0GpOL6ut3XYQ9Ez8DHLneHlzyeTGbN4QB4YfLQE0xxsG0wMfGPR04l0PWGZqLUUEUAtoBuPACQxQoDMgsq8J2zpt7RqK6mWQ/s320/002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yes, baby those are cows. No, baby, we won't fall off the cliff that the driver is getting so close to. <nervous laugh=""></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIep-T_TRtfo9jR_cBOmjESDtVFt054RLE_MxYSLz9jzZeQwYfnmp62SEyykkP6nem8df_Pal_UE_WhAVF3GswV7uN0J530svZStdhk6DmIEkBiheOH0p3C-QAbLKIPQGKsHKU9txWYXn6/s1600/010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIep-T_TRtfo9jR_cBOmjESDtVFt054RLE_MxYSLz9jzZeQwYfnmp62SEyykkP6nem8df_Pal_UE_WhAVF3GswV7uN0J530svZStdhk6DmIEkBiheOH0p3C-QAbLKIPQGKsHKU9txWYXn6/s320/010.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">a bad pic of a rock slide that closed the road we were on for a while. We had to just wait while some locals and tractors cleared out one lane and then take turns with the on-coming traffic to get by.</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAws_IHrKT1wZ3d0bxOMfYoj8-ejnkZj67fXvyi5hmRtoPIsztI9MoOJe5a2N5Z3oht1nIx0-jf-wOMrvxDxDpqoH9yjJ7C7IgZ55nwsvro-5w8a2OWs9o1QAG2F0CtG9vKM92N6bqWW7/s1600/013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAws_IHrKT1wZ3d0bxOMfYoj8-ejnkZj67fXvyi5hmRtoPIsztI9MoOJe5a2N5Z3oht1nIx0-jf-wOMrvxDxDpqoH9yjJ7C7IgZ55nwsvro-5w8a2OWs9o1QAG2F0CtG9vKM92N6bqWW7/s320/013.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just keep playing games...we're almost there!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0HXUymV1bXsXVSU_oSNN50iKsrdEkP3s2W7RG1rBuGF-rxvv6iWqDtxmunXJyoTdmwnbP_oomsp4uBrQiqU443B2bmAReon8RlmlR89kzzV6vAu0TS3c7FzEDPLpyQj12T-voS5wbJNzF/s1600/017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0HXUymV1bXsXVSU_oSNN50iKsrdEkP3s2W7RG1rBuGF-rxvv6iWqDtxmunXJyoTdmwnbP_oomsp4uBrQiqU443B2bmAReon8RlmlR89kzzV6vAu0TS3c7FzEDPLpyQj12T-voS5wbJNzF/s320/017.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">best way to travel on long, windy mountain roads.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Finally we arrived in Playas del Coco - a small fishing village, somewhat newer to the "tourist" scene and OH-so-endearing and beautiful. Right outside our condo/apartment place there was a....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaMY2rwuPFMQlOMEB-rhgkydgjryUTzRQOst7n84OBwOMnxDXNy-e2tKaL4ZCj95ILLtE0rdjOs30zFM2Tb76z1WMfwb9g5jVlV6KZraSi7w9IDwgbXeZxkcHVNUfGItg0I4FFxD1cy2a2/s1600/2010+Vacation+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaMY2rwuPFMQlOMEB-rhgkydgjryUTzRQOst7n84OBwOMnxDXNy-e2tKaL4ZCj95ILLtE0rdjOs30zFM2Tb76z1WMfwb9g5jVlV6KZraSi7w9IDwgbXeZxkcHVNUfGItg0I4FFxD1cy2a2/s320/2010+Vacation+011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">SWING SET!! Bless the Lord, oh my soul.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPM8iTgsqWx9YOnpBhgY0vTX-XINLblaBTWfDA_bYf_el9BaMvOOizAAGs96YBs_Upi44wLy8Fhfz6em303R-cKp1F4wf-I3sEuOkiliUGbFn__8ws0XXYKlYH8E5wtCAwa2eJYcXA59E/s1600/2010+Vacation+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPM8iTgsqWx9YOnpBhgY0vTX-XINLblaBTWfDA_bYf_el9BaMvOOizAAGs96YBs_Upi44wLy8Fhfz6em303R-cKp1F4wf-I3sEuOkiliUGbFn__8ws0XXYKlYH8E5wtCAwa2eJYcXA59E/s320/2010+Vacation+010.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and directly to the left - a two-level infinity edge pool!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjt-p-eugxHaFZ59GAZtHJL3ZWTTIDyiSfdAD-9MtYjQ5C7VbXekO4LE4aKIG50j-DwpaVDVAoIyAOsYQLS-Ml1daEvyWEMBevbJLjfDpaJ7_nr5Yi3mRwSn-j-2CygwqqhpiB4eSeL1T/s1600/2010+Vacation+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjt-p-eugxHaFZ59GAZtHJL3ZWTTIDyiSfdAD-9MtYjQ5C7VbXekO4LE4aKIG50j-DwpaVDVAoIyAOsYQLS-Ml1daEvyWEMBevbJLjfDpaJ7_nr5Yi3mRwSn-j-2CygwqqhpiB4eSeL1T/s320/2010+Vacation+020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"> Where this little fishy (Elasia) spent a lot of time learning to swim all by herself. So proud of my big girl!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGWiw7C8-bFZAYDOD-5WuNZmGuPh5IYpJiQB0aW0IVvwlSD-OhyphenhyphenATn404fee74onwDNp7ZIoal8QsgsuPruGd0T-9rBb9njsgFB7__Pd8_0-gjL-6gIir6LPjcmkXOVdGIwz5ne9bp7-Jd/s1600/2010+Vacation+026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGWiw7C8-bFZAYDOD-5WuNZmGuPh5IYpJiQB0aW0IVvwlSD-OhyphenhyphenATn404fee74onwDNp7ZIoal8QsgsuPruGd0T-9rBb9njsgFB7__Pd8_0-gjL-6gIir6LPjcmkXOVdGIwz5ne9bp7-Jd/s320/2010+Vacation+026.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Some views from our place</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_IKZMhB-KkFl6b9MTfjprSiaLLJsWGx4Crwtt1dyTyUrkJmDRBSHH4f-kmVFlKbxtlymDzxhuJ_N9XaIKwh6TjVXqMzWLYTrrqAKyF2bD5moZT0QeLzssOcZqI-Y44M1_gsD3_Gw_uH65/s1600/2010+Vacation+028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_IKZMhB-KkFl6b9MTfjprSiaLLJsWGx4Crwtt1dyTyUrkJmDRBSHH4f-kmVFlKbxtlymDzxhuJ_N9XaIKwh6TjVXqMzWLYTrrqAKyF2bD5moZT0QeLzssOcZqI-Y44M1_gsD3_Gw_uH65/s320/2010+Vacation+028.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Blackberry camera phone's just don't do it justice, sorry :-/</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMF2qGDGS0fXvxEWgb1Mp_zt7R4qbZ2s7i1eYnqNnMVDjGTsvz6TGBPoQjHLTC8YxEBPd8wQH_CWk3CPNkvqyHH2CgHb-gGZTHszpownay-w3MK17f0ujmGuHPr5ExyI0Wa6M5Bi3mEIpi/s1600/2010+Vacation+031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMF2qGDGS0fXvxEWgb1Mp_zt7R4qbZ2s7i1eYnqNnMVDjGTsvz6TGBPoQjHLTC8YxEBPd8wQH_CWk3CPNkvqyHH2CgHb-gGZTHszpownay-w3MK17f0ujmGuHPr5ExyI0Wa6M5Bi3mEIpi/s320/2010+Vacation+031.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And that water/beach over there in the distance...that's where we spent our mornings.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtyP27atA3lSsY2IjymJSgw6cLzRfeYSzUwn_VmWf5OwtEouDN5XzPT4aT2A8jsCF2u2kf5-uY1ssUdpNBOL_jHKx_Nh51XMu3rhm68-P_QKw4NPPzRKbhFH_hftpltPaGubovW8JLiNSE/s1600/2010+Vacation+034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtyP27atA3lSsY2IjymJSgw6cLzRfeYSzUwn_VmWf5OwtEouDN5XzPT4aT2A8jsCF2u2kf5-uY1ssUdpNBOL_jHKx_Nh51XMu3rhm68-P_QKw4NPPzRKbhFH_hftpltPaGubovW8JLiNSE/s320/2010+Vacation+034.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">we'd walk down this little path through a garden (full of butterflies and flowers)</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvki3gkI8FUx5ZkvpMfVJZGzGLPbYqswBfo0droiOS63Pp-8kXLT__owEb5PYBpHPIm9UAQTVYgUMw-5uhxWS_3klRPXyp51FsM0b9lCupxKgMsWM8lRE0JoKPJc3UETvdX8taHy_IE9dk/s1600/2010+Vacation+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvki3gkI8FUx5ZkvpMfVJZGzGLPbYqswBfo0droiOS63Pp-8kXLT__owEb5PYBpHPIm9UAQTVYgUMw-5uhxWS_3klRPXyp51FsM0b9lCupxKgMsWM8lRE0JoKPJc3UETvdX8taHy_IE9dk/s320/2010+Vacation+036.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">down this little road through our mini-community</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVX3BYkBxbJiaHBuL0Ml1HI0NsAgftCerVnzsoLXfIurN1yGBqR7jSlFy83I9OUS2HJBwwYo4B7HC-4mAZSxAG8nrPEHgILIEk6I7A5gLfkc1clbHxGcEjYrXSfXJIs9zStO3bd52krgqf/s1600/2010+Vacation+070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVX3BYkBxbJiaHBuL0Ml1HI0NsAgftCerVnzsoLXfIurN1yGBqR7jSlFy83I9OUS2HJBwwYo4B7HC-4mAZSxAG8nrPEHgILIEk6I7A5gLfkc1clbHxGcEjYrXSfXJIs9zStO3bd52krgqf/s320/2010+Vacation+070.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">to this great undeveloped beach area. Blackish volcanic sand, jungle and mountains right next to each other!</div><br />
<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZtyUAMBvIIEYJeFwAW68cJouHNqQ3Ppc4R_C_Onx5_LaahxT7JhJlt4ZuAL7aQpqS72DWUdFaHGHusBHkMJI508ZkFRuqwvbHqcvbppJchEi2DfRaoJHiyEpXdQX-piFwlcTcghov2S3/s1600/2010+Vacation+073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZtyUAMBvIIEYJeFwAW68cJouHNqQ3Ppc4R_C_Onx5_LaahxT7JhJlt4ZuAL7aQpqS72DWUdFaHGHusBHkMJI508ZkFRuqwvbHqcvbppJchEi2DfRaoJHiyEpXdQX-piFwlcTcghov2S3/s320/2010+Vacation+073.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center">again, apologies for the lame pics. We didn't bring our phones to take pictures 'til the last day and it was sunset. B+ for effort?</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9NDZVgoaLntCZPSc7mTIfOQIdBnmDy_3q9aJF25jOu38KbJwzZc_XC98WzYAHFzBjXLmqWW_22k7s6Q4ExgHrBiJ7bKp6Y3qHDzOyDcjF2Mt4GIwn-UWsHG4W1B916Kqc-FHrOkNA6YIo/s1600/2010+Vacation+037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9NDZVgoaLntCZPSc7mTIfOQIdBnmDy_3q9aJF25jOu38KbJwzZc_XC98WzYAHFzBjXLmqWW_22k7s6Q4ExgHrBiJ7bKp6Y3qHDzOyDcjF2Mt4GIwn-UWsHG4W1B916Kqc-FHrOkNA6YIo/s320/2010+Vacation+037.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Back in the pool...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJL7-hsDOHSJFclBQZwCVLM3QmHJcqsvL3r0yBxljM8DhOUXktLGgVKj89AOjEC-J56Xk7Ef7zu5ONqienolQ8dt9KEXOvOqKqL9WYugJX9kMEI8Pyhfl0iOgmSgrRJ6jTd5o8NDzwWjal/s1600/2010+Vacation+040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJL7-hsDOHSJFclBQZwCVLM3QmHJcqsvL3r0yBxljM8DhOUXktLGgVKj89AOjEC-J56Xk7Ef7zu5ONqienolQ8dt9KEXOvOqKqL9WYugJX9kMEI8Pyhfl0iOgmSgrRJ6jTd5o8NDzwWjal/s320/2010+Vacation+040.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">lounging pool side.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBSDK0WmC3Ly0kl8Mi9dtEPmbcJTi_IrQ_WLI1Sg4O54rOOe2zGEV6NwBdz9rPTdUT6LQm9nu4ZZ1Oq-hOTj78g3Gktqbf1ksC4ibHEqleKm7S2YZwOd_Q2Ii7dAzeIIDVaQXsHrYMI7K/s1600/2010+Vacation+046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBSDK0WmC3Ly0kl8Mi9dtEPmbcJTi_IrQ_WLI1Sg4O54rOOe2zGEV6NwBdz9rPTdUT6LQm9nu4ZZ1Oq-hOTj78g3Gktqbf1ksC4ibHEqleKm7S2YZwOd_Q2Ii7dAzeIIDVaQXsHrYMI7K/s320/2010+Vacation+046.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">ate out a few times (tried to stick to "local" places and had some really great food!), but I mostly cooked once we discovered our new favorite grocery store - Super Compro! (The girls lived in their bathing suits.)</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFKJC2RVdn7-3Hu1CLnC19hgE0c3EzsvFDvNICRwa6xH7JHVGV-bsCPKfyPtE1sya3AmUcyVvgi_GPBH5ajgxcBs1mKgsX3o7qTfZ02VuQZdieWqDAglS-lwXkMiIPA-ox3rNkAHcUbuK/s1600/2010+Vacation+052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFKJC2RVdn7-3Hu1CLnC19hgE0c3EzsvFDvNICRwa6xH7JHVGV-bsCPKfyPtE1sya3AmUcyVvgi_GPBH5ajgxcBs1mKgsX3o7qTfZ02VuQZdieWqDAglS-lwXkMiIPA-ox3rNkAHcUbuK/s320/2010+Vacation+052.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Elasia was fascinated by learning where bananas come from.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpFGywPj_6AcOhkXGNitDiIpfw-ndDCiDxnxdxX2hUqNmlMfJN_vZiRfF4fx-QV5uU4e8-cH2QvOxtIgz-skxroyrZmuMHdF6FtqYdHw9pc098kcvPU8OaPK39Z5oi5QqqUD2ukFHEa8e/s1600/2010+Vacation+055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpFGywPj_6AcOhkXGNitDiIpfw-ndDCiDxnxdxX2hUqNmlMfJN_vZiRfF4fx-QV5uU4e8-cH2QvOxtIgz-skxroyrZmuMHdF6FtqYdHw9pc098kcvPU8OaPK39Z5oi5QqqUD2ukFHEa8e/s320/2010+Vacation+055.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Two things sum up Costa Rica for her: Flowers and Butterflies. Her two favorite things and she saw hundreds and hundreds of each. She's pretty sure she was created for this country.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUqwVwNs29sNqFO2HjFNpd7xAvTvhLIVBUjcpUQhhuOd5gJs-ldeLd41f_JWGgCXzwQcnneelF68-acIEa6dR5AtKJwaqt-AAo7eEMgi9NGnDbNnKHh2P432BkODvC-fHB70FOb_V_8e8/s1600/2010+Vacation+063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUqwVwNs29sNqFO2HjFNpd7xAvTvhLIVBUjcpUQhhuOd5gJs-ldeLd41f_JWGgCXzwQcnneelF68-acIEa6dR5AtKJwaqt-AAo7eEMgi9NGnDbNnKHh2P432BkODvC-fHB70FOb_V_8e8/s320/2010+Vacation+063.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Qara's pic with a tiny little purple flower.</div><br />
When it was time to fly back to NYC we decided not to chance the drive from the coast to San Jose' (the captial where our tickets were booked for.) The weather was awful (in San Jose') and we were sure some roads would be closed. So we bought tickets on this...as Elasia called it... "Baby Airplane". A 45 minute flight in a 12-seater little thing. Oh the adventures...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlcedjYfaJ82RrJhddx2VpYmFO8D8gOe3Zk-lzyqyRL-wu3sJIbtDx5l42hJWGAN-p0dOsrSffG25bnMkRJShRDka6vdzb-O4mTvqOGMhZiZGietj2QVIL03fvtwrRxWdAVycMx888KbH/s1600/2010+Vacation+090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlcedjYfaJ82RrJhddx2VpYmFO8D8gOe3Zk-lzyqyRL-wu3sJIbtDx5l42hJWGAN-p0dOsrSffG25bnMkRJShRDka6vdzb-O4mTvqOGMhZiZGietj2QVIL03fvtwrRxWdAVycMx888KbH/s320/2010+Vacation+090.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No, my rear is NOT that big - the plane is really just THAT small ;-)</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNl1erHTQBhLBnmVTjepf8lG8OMjHk-yJKUG7X1-BLkvNzOzZZ8tcD_q1MeK-Y3FDKBXG4H85vUBNVXbD6RqxGJwguaY5kuLVSvoK3Y-AkcUkoOPuOxznuP0_D6bzgKAASPEh7PnMpEoD/s1600/2010+Vacation+092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNl1erHTQBhLBnmVTjepf8lG8OMjHk-yJKUG7X1-BLkvNzOzZZ8tcD_q1MeK-Y3FDKBXG4H85vUBNVXbD6RqxGJwguaY5kuLVSvoK3Y-AkcUkoOPuOxznuP0_D6bzgKAASPEh7PnMpEoD/s320/2010+Vacation+092.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> See, my 4 year old looks like a giant getting into it. Us grown-ups had to duck and scoot to get to our seats.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhegfb2kx6-Z_Hiin6VbzLGMR9bxKLKwAZpZhYR6v5gBeEegBTzGPy86iEiQYbZPfm-NSQC0lRgq1hjjUnIBUDK7U0nk5nWOaSlK09Yj9F10IgSU9tKMVeetl1P26Syrl7Ox2RPRWLfbuNd/s1600/2010+Vacation+095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhegfb2kx6-Z_Hiin6VbzLGMR9bxKLKwAZpZhYR6v5gBeEegBTzGPy86iEiQYbZPfm-NSQC0lRgq1hjjUnIBUDK7U0nk5nWOaSlK09Yj9F10IgSU9tKMVeetl1P26Syrl7Ox2RPRWLfbuNd/s320/2010+Vacation+095.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Looks like I'm the pilot, right? Nope - I'm in my seat. Eek.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimG4UM6_xjPnzmzTrt_0BTVYWpo4NfZVKkSVfPTlisM_S-FZZGN7m-QFZVtCbS69cVKG0gSMuG9AO2CMkUBMcXZtfLjxTRXCDmp5rUC1_gLQCDVMOy4IRgWriN6TsseR1JbFpwXfjs4ISW/s1600/2010+Vacation+099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimG4UM6_xjPnzmzTrt_0BTVYWpo4NfZVKkSVfPTlisM_S-FZZGN7m-QFZVtCbS69cVKG0gSMuG9AO2CMkUBMcXZtfLjxTRXCDmp5rUC1_gLQCDVMOy4IRgWriN6TsseR1JbFpwXfjs4ISW/s320/2010+Vacation+099.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No, I'm not in cockpit. Just leaning a little forward.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBiCBN3nWUxAGunncIXjm4BOUF1fMPtI1QIYMT7RBmWiAjfzUbX8UvLpFE7JV8-NBEUP49PzW9naEau6SpvL8xjCLPb6qze26J12fpaNg2NYDVCeNcppT-PGqKthd7M2DTu5PJphPRgRj/s1600/2010+Vacation+097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBiCBN3nWUxAGunncIXjm4BOUF1fMPtI1QIYMT7RBmWiAjfzUbX8UvLpFE7JV8-NBEUP49PzW9naEau6SpvL8xjCLPb6qze26J12fpaNg2NYDVCeNcppT-PGqKthd7M2DTu5PJphPRgRj/s320/2010+Vacation+097.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">See. :-D</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-mk8G8u9mHZqS7jnafqGXbgH9bYpGHB1c19SVioUgoXegsSoo80TW5BbQr5Ws2HpD6475GenMBL-X07c774sXsBidQ2FlOX8TWxRZcSBGejgoZUc2UNqvBhI1nKAG_kN1uTyMBhlHDJ7/s1600/2010+Vacation+096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-mk8G8u9mHZqS7jnafqGXbgH9bYpGHB1c19SVioUgoXegsSoo80TW5BbQr5Ws2HpD6475GenMBL-X07c774sXsBidQ2FlOX8TWxRZcSBGejgoZUc2UNqvBhI1nKAG_kN1uTyMBhlHDJ7/s320/2010+Vacation+096.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She's always up for an adventure - my little brave monkey.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEg1ns6TykX5__zJjD-iJfwp3c8lyxXtaLmBrFHnZAz76CJI7jJOQxePbjDbSqm6WBIZiG85nJyDXLqtvgJwLE1Oglzkjcf6-_g5R5Q_gNMJaDeC0pa2IJmTbEYvRL5AO8z6b2B-pZgYG/s1600/2010+Vacation+106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEg1ns6TykX5__zJjD-iJfwp3c8lyxXtaLmBrFHnZAz76CJI7jJOQxePbjDbSqm6WBIZiG85nJyDXLqtvgJwLE1Oglzkjcf6-_g5R5Q_gNMJaDeC0pa2IJmTbEYvRL5AO8z6b2B-pZgYG/s320/2010+Vacation+106.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And my daring Explorer.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJGZfnrMJMj5QSgQvEeYODJLXpcFbvmpR4AEFYAxyH_f0OjVPnPWld2MLm_IoP48OM8x5wSSLAY-EdTWdzWoHTolHDTMVqj5HLefOws8XFn4af9QW-62VYOIC0oj2Yk9L9oEA4SdZEIRP/s1600/2010+Vacation+103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJGZfnrMJMj5QSgQvEeYODJLXpcFbvmpR4AEFYAxyH_f0OjVPnPWld2MLm_IoP48OM8x5wSSLAY-EdTWdzWoHTolHDTMVqj5HLefOws8XFn4af9QW-62VYOIC0oj2Yk9L9oEA4SdZEIRP/s320/2010+Vacation+103.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">that's a volcano!!</div>And once we landed in San Jose' there were still 2 more planes and a taxi before we were sound asleep in our beds.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXep4mbMRc6z3T63K2Ob5qO_N4xO6vreW91wJq9w9EDLKTdeg5Da8J7NbTJEpOEIgFboVvsAI2UKjwy-tMX8-7OVNAHgi1QcGNm73jRjYfReHq9IgfaibyG9uLi321KxGVzWSOVwg5plIi/s1600/2010+Vacation+115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXep4mbMRc6z3T63K2Ob5qO_N4xO6vreW91wJq9w9EDLKTdeg5Da8J7NbTJEpOEIgFboVvsAI2UKjwy-tMX8-7OVNAHgi1QcGNm73jRjYfReHq9IgfaibyG9uLi321KxGVzWSOVwg5plIi/s320/2010+Vacation+115.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And that's all - our time in Costa Rica was truly Pura Vida!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(ha ha - I <em>had</em> to....sorry)</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-89857916404472533582010-09-28T18:58:00.000-05:002010-09-28T18:58:38.894-05:00can I introduce you to.....?So we leave this Saturday for our much anticipated vacation to Costa Rica!! Life's been a bit of a whirlwind (hence the lack of the regular posts), but I can assure you we are all A-okay.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tk0YOEff4JHVM7rHLl8NTMaqLebzOjhGft9eatxNm3niaCv5_gLnebK_MqRdQO6kEH7rSh8H1eHz5xhRCkJ5_cZF1ZTOJ2mMJyo2eqNsW_r2027wEfzvQj8m9MQzfW7PCLLI76xSxuHL/s1600/Lesterfamily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tk0YOEff4JHVM7rHLl8NTMaqLebzOjhGft9eatxNm3niaCv5_gLnebK_MqRdQO6kEH7rSh8H1eHz5xhRCkJ5_cZF1ZTOJ2mMJyo2eqNsW_r2027wEfzvQj8m9MQzfW7PCLLI76xSxuHL/s320/Lesterfamily.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I wanted to introduce anyone who may read this blog to a dear friend and hero of mine. Her little family's story is incredible and their courage/humility is breathtaking.<br />
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Please, oh PRETTY please take a moment to meet the fabulous <a href="http://www.wherearethelesters.com/Where_Are_The_Lesters/Melissas_Blog/Melissas_Blog.html">Lester Family</a>.<br />
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We really can be a part of the change we want to see in the world. It just takes courage. And so does Motherhood. <br />
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We. Can. Do. This.Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-43474390852379955202010-09-16T17:49:00.003-05:002010-11-10T13:14:37.785-05:00Oh my GOODNESS!Monday came and went I totally didn't notice until today!!! (that is a window into the pace my life is running at these days.) Geez Louise. <br />
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Enjoy this great video that I discovered thanks to my FB friend Betsy and I will be back on here soon- for sure!<br />
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High-five to all the mommies!<br />
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<object height="405" width="660"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/taDqKWWPDAY?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/taDqKWWPDAY?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="405"></embed></object>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-88663280265303811862010-09-06T22:11:00.003-05:002010-11-10T13:20:57.095-05:00Motherhood Mondays: filled with wonderMy husband's youngest brother had a beautiful wedding this past weekend and both my husband and I were in it. We dragged our travelling circus down to Virginia (that's normally about a 7 hour drive, but with the kiddos it took about 9-10). For me, it was a wonderful yet busy weekend in surburbia, seeing family, crying a few tears of joy, going to a Starbucks (that had a DRIVE THROUGH WINDOW!!). But besides all things GORGEOUS and AMAZING about this wedding, I didn't think I'd have much to say about Virginia. But I do. Just not tonight...I keep nodding off at the keyboard. Stay tuned for a Ode To Lynchburg, VA post... :-)<br />
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You know who I loved watching explore "suburbia"? Elasia. For her, our little trip to Virginia was magical. And here's 3 reasons why:<br />
<ul><li>there are Chick-fil-As !! (these amazing restaurants serve her favorite food - chicken - AND have playgrounds attached to them!)</li>
<li>we got in a car and drove to where we needed to go. No long walking, no trains, no buses, no taxis. Travel time with JUST mommy and daddy felt so luxurious.</li>
<li>People had their own private piece of grass, rocks and dirt (a.k.a. "yards") not just one central park or green space like NYC.</li>
</ul>Watching my girls this weekend, with our extended family, and particularly in Virginia, I was sharply reminded at how boring I can let life be. This is especially a tragedy because when little opportunities come along to "stop and smell the roses" I tend to rush right pass them, shoo-ing my daughters along, insisting there is no time because we have responsibilities to tend to. Then at the end of the day I wonder why motherhood can be so lack-luster. <br />
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So this reflection is short (partly because I'm nodding off with exhaustion - loooonnnnng car ride) but I want to "bookmark" Elasia's pure ability to be facinated by things that would seem so common to me. This weekend I tried to see things through her eyes and became fascinated again with butterlies, jumping on one foot, strip malls, glittery rocks in gardens, sour pickles, and bubble-wrap packing material.<br />
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I think if I can keep reintroducing "wonder" into my adventures as a mother, not only will it help me understand my children better, but it'll make this whole journey A LOT more fun.<br />
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So here's to being amazed more frequently, being surprised more regularly and allowing wonder to fill my mind even in the midst of mundane tasks.<br />
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Happy Monday, fellow Mommies!Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-9201913935300641292010-08-30T21:19:00.002-05:002010-08-30T21:20:56.347-05:00Motherhood Mondays: Futility<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zvPXj9DAYm-GwlEVfBCc4ZRqSnYeKJ_vzpzp31VgcWYtUOwM6bQZohX0RuWZPVNwB8tKXsapnBGe00cDZw0QVFqJbNHSL1rdS9k8cnPctgNSaXcdKH1Myr70lK1HoZrrRVe4VSqxDfIV/s1600/cocitos.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zvPXj9DAYm-GwlEVfBCc4ZRqSnYeKJ_vzpzp31VgcWYtUOwM6bQZohX0RuWZPVNwB8tKXsapnBGe00cDZw0QVFqJbNHSL1rdS9k8cnPctgNSaXcdKH1Myr70lK1HoZrrRVe4VSqxDfIV/s320/cocitos.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>Kids are funny little creatures, aren't they? <br />
I think because I know my own kids so well they can have the ability to press my every button to make me scream out of frustration and yet the next SECOND they could have me laughing so hard I'll nearly pee my pants.<br />
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::sigh:: ah kids. Sometimes when life doesn't make sense and I'm sure they're going to need years (and thousands of dollars worth) of therapy after they leave home, I stop and realize how FUNNY these children are.<br />
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A little while I go, I started emailing my family (all of whom live very far away from us) funny snipets of things the girls would do or say. I noticed a series of one-liners developing...I decided to name it "Futility".<br />
Here's what I've compiled:<br />
<ul><li><u>Futility</u>: Being given a choice by Elasia. </li>
<ul><li>Example - </li>
<ul><li>Elasia: "Qara which purse do you want? (holding up both a pink and a purple purse) </li>
<li>Qara: (pointing at the pink one) That one! </li>
<li>Elasia: Nope.</li>
<li>Qara: okkkk...(pointing at the purple one) That one! </li>
<li>Elasia:Nope (and walks away with both purses) </li>
</ul></ul>
<li><u>Futility</u>: Trying to get work done on the computer when your two-year has secretly run off with the cordless mouse and is still within range. I would be typing and windows started popping up/closing, things were getting highlighted - I thought our laptop was possessed. 'Til I looked over to the corner, and there was Qara with a BIG smile on her face, laughing. :-)</li>
<li><u>Futility</u>: playing "I spy" with Zaqarah on the subway. </li>
<ul><li>Example - </li>
<ul><li>Qara: I spy my liddle eye somefin' BLUE!! </li>
<li>Me: Is it that big blue sign? </li>
<li>Qara: NO! It's yours backpack!! (note: the backpack is LIME GREEN!!)</li>
</ul></ul>
<li><u>Futility</u>: staying frustrated at Elasia on a packed subway ride. </li>
<ul><li>Example - </li>
<ul><li>Me (through gritted teeth): I. told. you. to. NEVER. let. go. of. my hand. EVER.</li>
<li>Elasia (very loudly): I knoooow, Mommy, but that man's big belly was in the way. I think he has a baby in there! (pointing right at the man...)</li>
</ul></ul></ul>Gotta love 'em, right?<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmB4SwM0x308K2w6EFiO3RYkT-UWWio7PQJ9v3LQx8Ok2pzZ7aNnviS8fu2lCeFU-JU6w4yQKvrFIE-HMtg8PlbPEoJERn9qPgmir3-xo1RGRDldy8vQNDb6c4n2VNgFUcrfuhl5yzuw0/s1600/sillygirls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmB4SwM0x308K2w6EFiO3RYkT-UWWio7PQJ9v3LQx8Ok2pzZ7aNnviS8fu2lCeFU-JU6w4yQKvrFIE-HMtg8PlbPEoJERn9qPgmir3-xo1RGRDldy8vQNDb6c4n2VNgFUcrfuhl5yzuw0/s320/sillygirls.jpg" /></a><strong><em>Do you have any "futility" moments that make you smile at their innocence, laugh at their perspective on life or just reveal how silly they are? Please leave a comment so we can all take a breather and remember that we DO, in fact, love our jobs.</em></strong></div><br />
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And big "high fives" to each of you Fabulous Mommies!! You <u>are</u> changing the world one diaper change, one tear wiping, one disciplinary moment... one sleepless night at a time.Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-54825292889780434192010-08-24T00:16:00.002-05:002010-08-24T00:22:21.609-05:00Motherhood Mondays: the gift that "grace" is.**Bits of my weekend is on a bit of a hiatus. Stay tuned - it'll come back one of these days**<br />
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Tomorrow (erm...today, I guess as it IS 1:?? AM) Zaqarah Grace Gahagan will turn 3 years old. I remember, like it was yesterday, double and triple checking that pregnancy test. Surely I wasn't pregnant!! Elasia was still nursing all. the. time. What's a "period" anyway?! But after the second test I swallowed the fact - we were having ANOTHER baby.<br />
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I felt like I was drowning in the crushing expectations of motherhood already, barely catching my breath in the mornings to charge head-long into days of the tedious demands of mothering 8 month old. I didn't think I was doing anything right. Anything. And here I was, going to have another one. Most of what I was feeling (which now I know was Postpartum Depression) was chemical. Things went wacky in my brain and cause me to distort reality.<br />
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Reality: I was a pretty good first-time mom. I was tenacious with breastfeeding, even though I had to really work on that latch and Elasia had reflux. I was meticulous at filtering through all the <strike>propaganda</strike> information out there and deciding what would benefit our little family. I wasn't a germ-o-phobe, but kept things relatively clean and safe. Elasia seemed like she had the potential to be a happy person despite the eternal bouts of colic.<br />
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But I didn't see this. I would whisper prayers through tears during late night feedings, "Oh God help. Oh God help." Nothing theologically complicated, just the plea of a young mom whose mind had turned on her. <br />
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Adam, who was struggling with his own expectations of what parenthood would be like versus our reality, was really amazing during this time. But that's a whole other post in itself. He saw my deer-in-the-headlights look when we talked about this second pregnancy and did what any dreamily hot church-going guy would do. He prayed. And a few days later he came to me a said something like, "Babe, I know it seems like life is crazy, but I feel like this baby is a gift. Not generically, but specifically. I feel like this baby is a reward. God sees all the details of our lives here in NYC and is telling us He's proud of us." <br />
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Okay.<br />
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Thanks.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCp3-Wfdk8zvkM5_m1K-YBxrz581VPJZjKeFa4V8lGl7WYXS8b4xlTUJOIYklpTGgBIgYFlmHKM3MOa5QpPSNPsNJdgoqc8IeRMdQDJNJPT7erqvu9F4sUl5Mx5w6K7efOQFDWS7uS9Eqy/s1600/IMAGE_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCp3-Wfdk8zvkM5_m1K-YBxrz581VPJZjKeFa4V8lGl7WYXS8b4xlTUJOIYklpTGgBIgYFlmHKM3MOa5QpPSNPsNJdgoqc8IeRMdQDJNJPT7erqvu9F4sUl5Mx5w6K7efOQFDWS7uS9Eqy/s320/IMAGE_001.jpg" /></a>I chose to believe that. We searched and searched for the perfect name and when we found out, around 27 weeks or so, that it was a girl, we knew she would be called Zaqarah Grace - which means "God's Gracious Reward."</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On August 24, 2007 - from that first breath at 9:40 PM on a Friday night, she was (and continues to be) exactly that. Now, I know there are actually medical explanations for this and here's my I'm-not-a-doctor-but-googled-it-enough-to-say-it-with-authority explanation: The post-partum hormones I experienced after Qara actually kicked my brain back in gear rather than compounding my PPD. I felt like I snapped out of it. I had "space" for Elasia's tantrums (as she was 17 months old then) while nursing a newborn with one hand and sweeping the floors with the other. I still (even now) have days when I feel like a thick dark fog is threatening to swallow me, but they are so few and far between compared to what I thought was normal motherhood before Qara came.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczteHgvgrE72VlOy69NVOYBTSX4UiTiAeVrquSYz6JQe0IxdhfDU_xaDckfEJycHO6LJvFB6280mS1DQw0b7VSoOt-nCB0S9ernmjvKo7fhtfHi95AhENEhMMd3ebMpOKZe63i6VAnoWN/s1600/IMG_0154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczteHgvgrE72VlOy69NVOYBTSX4UiTiAeVrquSYz6JQe0IxdhfDU_xaDckfEJycHO6LJvFB6280mS1DQw0b7VSoOt-nCB0S9ernmjvKo7fhtfHi95AhENEhMMd3ebMpOKZe63i6VAnoWN/s400/IMG_0154.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I feel able to truly enjoy the complex creature that Elasia is. I look at her and see a phenomenal world-changing girl who kids will read about in their history books one day...probably. Instead of seeing a tornado of chaos I (usually) see two sisters enjoying each other and discovering the world together. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Besides the science, I can't help but see Divine fingerprints in this. It's like He heard my midnight cries and saw all those tears and gave me a life-saver: A baby who would nurse/gain weight just fine. Who would grow to be a toddler with PERFECT comedic timing and lots of hugs to spare. Who liked to smush her face on my cheek just because. Who had an infectious belly-laugh and a spritely little nature. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ZwqR2jVMtxy6eFDcv58lYfxcyJ1llqY-dXWdl8Fl6WPInGobQjZlejlXFUiN9aZ0wrfrCDZsGaOC3hNJvREbuUrya7Znn0xR5zwqJcHn1ojmBV02EJAK6iJClk4Or9EXt1huIKbQftGS/s1600/playground.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ZwqR2jVMtxy6eFDcv58lYfxcyJ1llqY-dXWdl8Fl6WPInGobQjZlejlXFUiN9aZ0wrfrCDZsGaOC3hNJvREbuUrya7Znn0xR5zwqJcHn1ojmBV02EJAK6iJClk4Or9EXt1huIKbQftGS/s320/playground.bmp" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Who would cause me to have a heart attack at LEAST once a week because of her fearlessness at the playground. Who might not revolutionize nations in the same way her sister would, but <em>will,</em> nonetheless, with her own uniquely endearing charm. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I was given "grace" in the form of an unexpected baby.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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Dictionary definition says it so well - each definition seems so specific to what her birth brought into my life:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>grace (grs)</strong></div><em>n.</em><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">1. Seemingly effortless beauty or charm of movement, form, or proportion. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc9JyPlL4LpHBBdEmZcQW7iS5yD92k2v4ufF3-V5anKPdBxQrvcjlrHnqsrbvU_QhcWprbMPj50FPlpBNdiLjPHoJVG2vbAhB9gc_uqWL6WU4BbyUoG32tGIF5m-1-3FBA1MO2mFVYiSQU/s1600/Qara+zuchinnipic.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc9JyPlL4LpHBBdEmZcQW7iS5yD92k2v4ufF3-V5anKPdBxQrvcjlrHnqsrbvU_QhcWprbMPj50FPlpBNdiLjPHoJVG2vbAhB9gc_uqWL6WU4BbyUoG32tGIF5m-1-3FBA1MO2mFVYiSQU/s320/Qara+zuchinnipic.bmp" /></a>2. A characteristic or quality pleasing for its charm or refinement.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">3. A sense of fitness or propriety.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">4. a. A disposition to be generous or helpful; goodwill.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">b. Mercy; clemency.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">5. A favor rendered by one who need not do so; indulgence.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">6. A temporary immunity or exemption; a reprieve.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">7. a. Divine love and protection bestowed freely on people.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">b. The state of being protected or sanctified by the favor of God.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">c. An excellence or power granted by God</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I'm going to enjoy celebrating her tomorrow and watching her round little face light up when she opens her presents. But I'm also going to try to remember the gift I was given called "grace". I don't have to drown in this thing called "motherhood". </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>If only I could remember that every day...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Happy Birthday, My little Mugga-Moo.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8jj5RFRYZgceZTCor-DKq7pQ-zhXffXcsIGOo-YMEGfU-pjUNKxEy13wuZ9Cxy2CPUIM94umBzh-MIHTfMDWH-TxyuX8S73pZGwKMGjWocEGA41Te0HazSlX1Ujjgk8cgJm70uNrmCE5/s1600/Qaraonferry.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8jj5RFRYZgceZTCor-DKq7pQ-zhXffXcsIGOo-YMEGfU-pjUNKxEy13wuZ9Cxy2CPUIM94umBzh-MIHTfMDWH-TxyuX8S73pZGwKMGjWocEGA41Te0HazSlX1Ujjgk8cgJm70uNrmCE5/s400/Qaraonferry.bmp" width="300" /></a></div>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2585836611455036726.post-53070694939202281662010-08-09T17:59:00.000-05:002010-08-09T17:59:39.887-05:00Motherhood Mondays: On being a nostalgic mommy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCUxA8CpYYMiDtd1z31u-3JzRHGQcC9u61o4l14wRDHycus4QexqvcDzGpq_H5ZYG9WaRL5rs52jo9_PXzkkaLMMeyRVxrA-IWeCYwiNqYOyTb6g45jMcOUA_nz5bqrtIHwU8R6sjmxmb/s1600/nostalgia2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCUxA8CpYYMiDtd1z31u-3JzRHGQcC9u61o4l14wRDHycus4QexqvcDzGpq_H5ZYG9WaRL5rs52jo9_PXzkkaLMMeyRVxrA-IWeCYwiNqYOyTb6g45jMcOUA_nz5bqrtIHwU8R6sjmxmb/s320/nostalgia2.jpg" /></a></div>Maybe it's the anesthesia from the intense dental appointment I had earlier today, maybe it's the fact that my parents are heading back to Florida after a WONDERFULLY long and indulgent visit, maybe it's because overnight (!) my youngest daughter can suddenly string long sentences (that make sense!) together...I dunno. Whatever the reason is, I'm feeling nostalgic. <br />
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Forgive me, I'm really not trying to be corny. Reality is, I'm profoundly grateful for the life I have right now and I am most definitely looking forward to the years to come. So I can't help feeling the twinge of guilt when I catch myself longing for "yesterday". It makes me laugh, too....I know. I JUST turned 30. I don't have many "yesterdays" to my credit. But in my defense, I see this in my daughter Elasia too. She's only 4 and she already keeps a "treasure box" where she puts sentimental things that are important to her - so she can look at them whenever she wants and ....remember.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrSg33ggw5q_0LQXlj5lyKdXMDn7ZePgHL7jaAJbDJ9OXn0LRYhcmvpp02fXBy-tAqOTFzvSpup0pSRhU-QNznRombZSXvHzz49JF-_LFM6XnytxFiYVnHoD4PLfvOn2pr-NHiPGh_xVF/s1600/nostalgia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrSg33ggw5q_0LQXlj5lyKdXMDn7ZePgHL7jaAJbDJ9OXn0LRYhcmvpp02fXBy-tAqOTFzvSpup0pSRhU-QNznRombZSXvHzz49JF-_LFM6XnytxFiYVnHoD4PLfvOn2pr-NHiPGh_xVF/s320/nostalgia.jpg" /></a></div>After a quick google or two here's what I found:<br />
This beautiful painting by Mirjana Gotovac and a handy definition.<br />
<strong>nos·tal·gi·a</strong><br />
<em>n.</em><br />
<br />
1. A bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past.<br />
2. The condition of being homesick; homesickness.<br />
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"Bittersweet". Yep. I agree. Bitter = we can't recreate those memories and, besides, they're probably glossed over and exaggerated a bit in our flawed mind's retelling of the story. But that longing, that homesickness is sweet too. Nostalgia almost always brings a smile to my face. And I think it's playing a critical role in my ability to "mother". <br />
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Life can seem so overwhelming to me sometimes. Motherhood can tend to require EVERYTHING that I'm <strong>not</strong> good at - all at the same time. Every. day. And I don't have the mental fortitude to "leave it all at the job" most days. If I screw up, I'm acutely aware that little lives are affected. <br />
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Nostalgia comes to the rescue. Like a tiny cheerleader (but less annoying) inside my brain I hear, "Remember the sunlight hitting on Elasia's face when they were happily playing in the garden?!" "Remember that vulnerable little newborn cuddle-bug that you named Zaqarah?!" "Remember how much fun you had as a kid just 'playing' with no developmentally appropriate stimuli forced on you?!" <br />
<br />
yes. I remember. And I can do this. <br />
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Whenever I feel nostalgic I like to look through pictures. It's entirely self-indulgent, but why do anything halfway, right? :-) I'll spare you the family slide shows - but I can't wait to go through quite a few later, after I put these kids to bed. Beside the obvious "remember when my kids did..." memories, random memories help keep my life in perspective. Pictures of my favorite spots in NYC, the bike I learned to ride when I was little, beautiful people I've had the privilege of knowing....When I'm drowning in the sea of mommyness, these things frame my current story. And they provide a pretty riveting plot that my kids get to be a part of too. (Does that make sense? And I'm getting too artsy-fartsy? Sorry. I blame this whole entire entry on Dr. Masaiah, D.D.S.) <br />
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It's good to feel alive and "in the moment" and yet nostalgic. Hm...I think that anesthesia is wearing off. Time to go pop some Advil and lay down. I'll leave you with few memories that are bringing smiles (crooked, half numb smiles) to my face today. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkbgeiDrVMn0yUl2lUe_arvRYiimA7FhGehTfB_68qxu1-ru0t5lAV0K9m9orVZ7HdjFRga9V_woJ5O7OUiygcPEQTKNep46u5RZBcc5bQ3MbmGfSydc9_OeXvMdFooMtonBDaZSRClFh/s1600/bookstore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDkbgeiDrVMn0yUl2lUe_arvRYiimA7FhGehTfB_68qxu1-ru0t5lAV0K9m9orVZ7HdjFRga9V_woJ5O7OUiygcPEQTKNep46u5RZBcc5bQ3MbmGfSydc9_OeXvMdFooMtonBDaZSRClFh/s400/bookstore.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is a beautiful, crowded and dusty bookstore in the Upper Westside. Stores like this give me a sense of adventure. (I've always been a bookworm, though). And the anonymous person's rear-end is added comedic relief.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjyPSADbMeGJwF8D9ApX8qig2VCBCkgNiQdIcH984wHoUmHyZxxbvZle3FPeOdCW9OG3rt4NgetXvQnCtvsQMRigZz5UFKT9gltOcH2MGh1bNuiNubZwlL9lTaXbQ8NcllvY56fY50wkcR/s1600/ballerina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjyPSADbMeGJwF8D9ApX8qig2VCBCkgNiQdIcH984wHoUmHyZxxbvZle3FPeOdCW9OG3rt4NgetXvQnCtvsQMRigZz5UFKT9gltOcH2MGh1bNuiNubZwlL9lTaXbQ8NcllvY56fY50wkcR/s400/ballerina.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This beautiful lady was once a well-know ballerina here in NYC. She now lives in a nursing home, but is still so gracious in her movements and a great lunch date.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIE45r4O35h8FIocAzRBUP5I3HuV2PjM7Vxj5W3LSiP7r1HumD5R3qYKSLz54DBEB8GdODiO3fladWGaOrn27WD9KdA-aQDSzDsQzNXl5bDAm3K6M5fc4ZnsOGesNFbaI2Nkynr1YpK2M/s1600/P1170056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIE45r4O35h8FIocAzRBUP5I3HuV2PjM7Vxj5W3LSiP7r1HumD5R3qYKSLz54DBEB8GdODiO3fladWGaOrn27WD9KdA-aQDSzDsQzNXl5bDAm3K6M5fc4ZnsOGesNFbaI2Nkynr1YpK2M/s400/P1170056.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">my "regular" subway stop by Rockefeller Center when I used to teach ESL</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHvAXS8gL0uTmjWeErhis60TUY_jj15NmxhioSS16og81H9NPx90Y9NL7NRu7oZxTq1uPy8fiGh68rKBuX4OtZ36f9RuiM96nkNSN0wFYeaCxmXl4ZAgsMktSMRX1YhcAIcL0LjokbBuo/s1600/sleepincar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHvAXS8gL0uTmjWeErhis60TUY_jj15NmxhioSS16og81H9NPx90Y9NL7NRu7oZxTq1uPy8fiGh68rKBuX4OtZ36f9RuiM96nkNSN0wFYeaCxmXl4ZAgsMktSMRX1YhcAIcL0LjokbBuo/s400/sleepincar.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">love these girls...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PRhT_icn1bCjKeH1u-6apVrTKSF0qSc0XtJhYXZbEexxLlAc23DFp5XD5N14-sn4GSxqIpP1dDyTqWFBptnv3M0jCPqQBjERPGOAYEeX5RLvDpEBQRz3IBOxaZeykTGmiF8GdI59CDND/s1600/IMG_0173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PRhT_icn1bCjKeH1u-6apVrTKSF0qSc0XtJhYXZbEexxLlAc23DFp5XD5N14-sn4GSxqIpP1dDyTqWFBptnv3M0jCPqQBjERPGOAYEeX5RLvDpEBQRz3IBOxaZeykTGmiF8GdI59CDND/s400/IMG_0173.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and I love laughing and living life with this man. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(we were trying to bulge out our biceps to make it look like we were buff.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm grateful for memories. They get me through difficult days and put an extra bounce in my step during the good days.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Monday, fellow Mommies.</div>Evita Gahaganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12447819256254556313noreply@blogger.com2