tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11417224840005003452024-02-19T01:26:15.883-05:00Giggles and ScreamsThe crazy life of a mom of five kids ages 7 to 14, who teaches for a living, runs for sanity, and bakes for fun.Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.comBlogger203125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-64758792473429141792017-07-13T11:25:00.004-04:002017-07-13T11:25:41.120-04:00Big Kids Are Boring<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Recently, I was thinking about the fact that I don't write much on the blog anymore. It's not necessarily because I don't have the time. Come on, 5 kids, full-time teaching, sometimes mother-runner and part-time baker leaves me <i>plenty </i>of time in a day for leisurely writing. (Where is my sarcasm font??) All kidding aside, it's not lack of free time that stops me from writing. It's because my kids are big now. And big kids are boring. First of all, I have to refrain from embarrassing my middle-schoolers since most of their friends follow me on Instagram. And secondly, big kids just don't get into the same kind of shenanigans that they did when they were toddlers. I'm lacking blog fodder. So I thought.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sophie has this toy she loves called BunchEms. They're basically colorful Velcro balls that have little hooks on them so they can be stuck together in interesting ways. They remind me of those awful things the boys used to throw at us on the way home from school that would stick to our wool knee socks.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixY_qzL88EocAKws5R5IZJiw9E04oWo3KYJw0alTEMiIIM1SVTGdMgeejonob3j2_7Ugv-B-Cv4aKtZhyS7foM4wBu8fpavVUgA-E10SeghNADvnIkJUbWvINOO7B7LgtoAiDNOQ8Eqbs/s1600/bunchems.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="718" data-original-width="861" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixY_qzL88EocAKws5R5IZJiw9E04oWo3KYJw0alTEMiIIM1SVTGdMgeejonob3j2_7Ugv-B-Cv4aKtZhyS7foM4wBu8fpavVUgA-E10SeghNADvnIkJUbWvINOO7B7LgtoAiDNOQ8Eqbs/s320/bunchems.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">These are BunchEms...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rSxLmDmMMy9Uzls8g6qJmVuxoYJtXhBBjRTtKh1PT8A9kD8V6rmNYFKnjAmKYUPxBtL4WW-LhxjxSE5xHbs-Snm-lxr48Ek0Pq4N-sbbe-76Pv0gAWHIq-3bQQlGnx04Q_Gj_BGGWxs/s1600/burrs.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="1050" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3rSxLmDmMMy9Uzls8g6qJmVuxoYJtXhBBjRTtKh1PT8A9kD8V6rmNYFKnjAmKYUPxBtL4WW-LhxjxSE5xHbs-Snm-lxr48Ek0Pq4N-sbbe-76Pv0gAWHIq-3bQQlGnx04Q_Gj_BGGWxs/s320/burrs.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">...and these are the stupid burrs that the boys would peg at the girls when we were walking home from elementary school. Basically, the same design.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now, we know these BunchEms can stick to each other, but they'll also stick to anything else. Charlotte's friend, Charlotte, put a bunch of them in her gorgeously long hair. It took Charlotte's mom and I quite a while to pull each one out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Which leads me to my first story in ages about my ridiculous kids. Charlotte and Sophie decided to take a bath in the big jacuzzi tub. While they were in there, minding their own business, my other darling children decided it would be fun to chuck ice cubes over the shower curtain into the tub. (There's no torture quite like being one of five children.) I put a stop to the ice cube throwing. But, instead of saying "Don't throw <i>anything</i> into the tub," I said, "Don't throw <i>ice</i> into the tub." I should know better by now. Rookie mistake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Someone, who has yet to own up to it, threw all of Sophie's BunchEms into the tub. Sophie and Charlotte didn't seem to mind. And continued washing their hair with all those little stickers floating around in the water. Charlotte basically washed her hair with them. Which is how this exchange happened between me and the other Charlotte's mom:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As Anne was texting me, I was sending her the picture...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Poor Chuck. After spending 20 minutes trying to disentangle those stupid things, I was finally left with this clump completely stuck to the middle of the top of her head. They were totally embedded. So I chopped the entire chunk off. Luckily, it didn't end up looking too bad. She has some short hairs on the top of her head, but they're just long enough that they blend in pretty well. </span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The lesson here is this: These fools might not be ridiculous as often as when they were toddlers, but, they're still going to keep me on my toes.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~Lissie</span><div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-35634595242876862172016-11-18T15:27:00.000-05:002016-11-18T15:29:21.463-05:00Death Threats and Such...<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Life is not always easy when you're one of five children. Nobody knows you better than the siblings with whom you share two bedrooms. Which means there is no one else on the planet who knows just how to push your buttons. And, if I'm being perfectly honest, there's no better button-pusher than a big brother. Just ask my sister-in-law. She's still traumatized by all the ways PJ tortured her growing up. ;) (Although, now that I think of it, I'm fully grown and my sister <a href="https://gigglesandscreams.blogspot.com/2012/05/on-sisters-and-facebook-pranks.html" target="_blank">still tortures me</a>.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Charlotte is unreasonably fearful. She's afraid of the dark and she's afraid of being alone anywhere in the house. In our family, we are all well aware of this. The other night, I decided to relax in the tub. Which means I locked the door to the bathroom that leads into my bedroom. Patrick being that big brother who loves to tease, decided to lock the door into the boys' room. Which meant that everyone was in the bedrooms and Charlotte had no way to get down there. She was out in the hall by herself. Surprisingly, she didn't completely freak out (which has been known to happen). Instead, she went into a quiet rage and penned a letter. And it may actually be one of the best pieces of writing I've stumbled upon in my house.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Now, my darling 6 year old has some spelling skills to work on, but the composition is solid.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For those of you needing a little inventive spelling translation:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Dear Patrick Minihane (first and last name - how formal!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I hate you so much. I will kill you with my best strength."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mind you, I never knew about this incident at all. They must've worked it out pretty quickly, because it didn't even come up until I found the letter on the floor the next day. We've since had a discussion about not being mean to our little sisters and how we don't write threatening letters to our big brothers. (Because, come on now, we shouldn't leave that kind of evidence just lying around.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am really curious, though:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What does Charlotte's "best stranth" actually entail? We've been paying for karate for a long time - Patrick should probably be worried.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~Lissie</span><br />
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-91030260188643862032016-09-26T19:49:00.005-04:002016-09-26T19:49:54.237-04:00Monday, You're Such A Cliche<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I really thought this was going to be my week. I got up well before sunrise and went for a run. The kids were up and ready for school super early. So early, that they got to sit and relax and watch cartoons (and I didn't even have to scream at anyone about brushing their teeth). It was going to be awesome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then Monday decided to be a stupid cliche. On my way to my classroom, I decided to use the 2 minutes I had to run to the ladies' room. I pulled down my pants and marveled at the giant hole in the crotch of my brand-new pants. As I was trying to figure out a.) how the hell that happened, and b.) would my sweater be long enough to cover it, my phone slipped right out of my back pocket and straight into the toilet. Totally submerged.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In the process of frantically trying to fish my phone out of the toilet (thank the lord I hadn't gone yet) and dry it off, I did something without even thinking about it. I blew straight into those little speaker holes to try to rid them of water. Which, of course, meant that all that toilet water splashed right back into my face. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Please, don't even try to tell me your Monday sucked if you didn't get spritzed with <b>LITERAL</b> <i>eau de toilette</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And, to top this fantastic day off, we got to report to a mandatory meeting after school to find out that our school has continued to fail and will probably be taken over by the state. After countless hours with some very dedicated teachers working tirelessly, we just continue to fail. It's a little hard to handle. Especially for those of us who CHOSE to come to (and stay at) this failing school and work extra hours with little support from the district.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, I came home and sat on the porch swing and had a beer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some silver linings: </span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My sweater was, indeed, long enough to cover my stupid crotch hole. (Wow. That sounded so wrong.) </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The new iPhone is truly water resistant. They didn't just make that new feature up.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My students are still awesome. They may be at a difficult school that hasn't passed the right tests. Some of them may have behavior difficulties and they may not have the best reading levels. But they love coming to Science to learn and we are going to have an amazing year. Screw the fancy people in their fancy suits. They don't have a clue what it means to work there. And I will continue to teach my scientists and revel in watching them learn and explore.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Tomorrow is Tuesday. At the very least I'd like to make it through the day with out toilet water in my face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~Lissie</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">PS</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Heres a clip from one of my favorite movies. Very apropos...</span><br />
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-8373794983647776422016-07-06T16:04:00.005-04:002016-07-06T16:05:51.269-04:00Newbie<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, I tried something new today. Today, I went to my first November Project workout. (If you aren't too sure what that means, you can learn more about it <a href="http://november-project.com/" target="_blank">here</a>.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I've recently become friendly with another mom at my kids' school whose two little ones are friends with Sophie and Sean. I had been admiring Erica's Instagram posts showing her November Project escapades and kind of wanted to check it out. I knew I couldn't be quite so hardcore as she and hit the workouts with kids in tow and then bring them to school. So, we decided to check it out once summer vacation started. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today was the first available day that we haven't had something going on, so we decided to try it out. The kids were surprisingly excited about getting up at 5:30 on a summer morning to head out. We left the house a little before 6am. With traffic and the fact that I wasn't too sure where I should park, we arrived a little later than intended. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Wednesday's workout is the stairs at Harvard Stadium. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Since we were about 10 minutes late, I just jumped in at the last section and started climbing. Those steps are huge. And I didn't even realize that I should use the small red steps to climb down. So when I got to the top of my first set, I turned around and tried to step straight down... and promptly fell on my face. I thought for sure (in those milliseconds when everything is happening in slow motion) that I was going to tumble all the way to the bottom of all of that concrete. Naturally, a few people ran over in a panic to make sure I was okay. I'm pretty sure that even if both legs were broken, I would've jumped up just as quickly as I did today out of sheer embarrassment. I had to assure these lovely folks that I was, indeed, alright, and proceeded to tell them that this is why my mother calls me Grace. Because I ain't got none. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I made Patrick take a selfie with me at the top of the first set. Then, I fell on my face. (Mostly my knees, but I was definitely laid out.)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After my initial humiliation, I decided to keep going. The kids even did a few sets with me, but they were so disappointed that they hadn't found their friends. Luckily, Erica and her son, Charlie, found us. And brought us over to the nice, shady sections where the workout was actually taking place today. (I really need to show up on time so I know what to do.) At that point, I already felt like dying, but Erica is great motivation and I tried to keep up. It was a little hard to not be intimidated by the people who were running up those stairs while I felt like my legs would give out just walking. The kids were so motivated to keep up with Erica and Charlie, that Patrick, Sophie, & Sean did 18 sections. That's a TON of giant steps when you've got little legs. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">These kids busted their butts today...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sweaty and red (& using a selfie with Charlotte as an excuse to sit down and catch my breath)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Erica coming down the stairs with the kids (& keeping them moving)!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Chuck's butt going up for one last set of stairs was my favorite shot of the day!</span></td></tr>
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I completely lost track of how many I completed. I know it was more than the kids, but not by much. By the end, my legs felt like they were made of Jell-o. As they were rounding up the tribe for a quick chat and group photo, I realized that I couldn't see Patrick anywhere. The poor kid had pushed himself too hard in the heat and ended up throwing up at the top of the stairs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Oddly enough, even though I almost killed myself and I made my poor kid sick with exhaustion or dehydration, I'd totally do it again. If only to look ever so slightly less new the next time. I can't imagine those stairs get any easier, but I'd love to try. I mean, if I can get 5 kids out of the house for a workout before 6am, that makes me a little hardcore, right? (Or just completely insane?)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Group shot - it was quite a crowd!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After the early morning wake-up and all the stairs (and the puking) they were still smiling.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~Lissie</span><br />
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-42896872592862829952016-05-03T22:36:00.000-04:002016-05-13T17:28:13.212-04:00Boston Marathon 2016<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's done. That crazy/amazing thing that took over my life for months is over. I ran the Boston Marathon. It wasn't pretty. And it definitely wasn't fast. But I accomplished the task I set out to do. I crossed the starting line in Hopkinton and made it to the finish line in Boston. Here's an extremely detailed recap of how it went.</span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Krystle's team was seriously rocking the jerseys! We're just missing Jackie in the photo. She had the luxury of staying at her parents' place in Hopkinton the night before the race - lucky!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I started the day at the Frog Pond in Boston Common to meet up with the rest of the team who was running for Krystle Campbell. This was my first time meeting the runners face to face. It was so nice to see these amazing people in person. Most were friends of Krystle's and this was not their first time running in her memory. One of our runners was even running this year, on her birthday, in between chemotherapy treatments for breast cancer. And let me tell you, she did it in under 4 hours. Totally amazing. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I rode the bus to Hopkinton with Kelly. She was incredible. Funny as hell and full of so many great tips. Oh, and did I mention that she has run a marathon on every continent?? (My 12 year old wants to know if that includes Antarctica. I don't know about that. But, after hearing her story of running a marathon in a Kenyan wildlife reserve - where there are actual WILD animals - I feel like that should count as double!) **UPDATE** I talked to Kelly and she did, in fact run a marathon in Antarctica. If that's not total badass, then I don't know what is. PS she said the penguins act just like puppies down there. Best visual ever.</span></span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Walking to the starting line with Kelly</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On the bus, I saw that I was tagged in this post on Facebook by my husband. It made me cry a little, so I'll blame him for my eventual dehydration issues. ;)</span></span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Those t-shirts were a surprise from my in-laws. I cried actual tears when I saw this on the bus!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One of the worst parts of the race was the port-a-potty line in Hopkinton. I'm not even kidding. Possibly worse than the leg cramps. I actually started to heckle people who weren't moving to their toilet fast enough. I was fairly certain I would die from a painful bladder explosion. It was pretty awesome.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As a charity runner, I was among the last group of runners to start the race. This meant we didn't even hear the gun go off until 11:15am. (And since there were so many of us, it took about 10 minutes before I actually stepped over the starting line.) It was hot that day, and after months of winter training, I didn't do enough to ward off dehydration. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Props to the girl behind me who totally photobombed with the sweetest smile ever.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Around mile 7, I started to get intermittent leg cramps. I knew this was a warning sign, but I trudged along. It definitely slowed me way down. I've written before about the fact that I'm a slow runner, but I've never had trouble like that so early in a run. The cramps continued on and off for the rest of the race and added probably an hour or more to the (already slow) time I was hoping to finish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But, I kept going anyway. Because the last thing I was going to do, after all of the support I had received from everyone, was to stop. So I trudged along. I high-fived a million little kids because I know my own kids have a competition every year at the marathon to see who can get the most high fives. Plus, you have to keep going when people are calling you by name. I had written Lissie on both arms. So I got lots of "Go, Leslie!" and delayed "I mean Lissie!" when they figured out how to pronounce it. It didn't matter. Every cheer sounded awesome! And I got to see friends along the way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My mother-in-law's best friend, Ditto, was waiting for me right at the end of her street in Natick (around mile 10). It was so great to see a friendly face! Then, when I was feeling slightly better than death in Wellesley (and realizing that I was barely more than halfway), one of my friends from college actually tackled me on the course. She gave me a quick hug and then physically pushed me and told me to keep going. Karen, that actual push through Wellesley center was just what I needed. We have good friends who live just off the course in Newton around mile 16. I was so happy to run up to them and see the signs their kids had made for me. What a boost! All along, I knew I was running much slower than any training run I had ever taken. It was so discouraging to worry about all of the people along the way who might be waiting for me. But I was so thankful to them for hanging around. I never could've gone all that way without them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I finally got to Newton-Wellesley Hospital to see my friend, Erin, and the rest of the gang who organized the team for Krystle Campbell. Erin jumped right in the course and ran along with me. I think she would've kept going if I hadn't forced her to turn around at the firehouse. She was unbelievable. Erin ran along in her jeans just to keep me going (& offering to massage my leg right on the race course when it cramped up). I still laugh thinking about it. As she ran with me, I was talking myself through the rest of the course. I said, "Okay, you'll run me to the firehouse. Then, I'll do the hills and my family will be at the top of the last one. Then, it's mostly downhill after that. I've totally got this." I wasn't entirely sure that I had it at all, but I figured it couldn't hurt to fake it. Erin heard me and said one of the best things I heard all day:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Of course you've got this. You're not going to quit now. You want me to do those fucking hills with you??"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And I don't doubt for a second that she would've. Erin is amazing. But, I sent her on her way and made my way up the hills.</span> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Those Newton hills were a bitch. I trained on them. I was ready. Until it was actually that time and my muscles were no longer cooperating. I could barely jog up - it was more of a power walk up with a run on the downhill. It sucked. Along the way, I was looking for a friend who is a Newton cop stationed along the route. That's when I realized that all of those guys look exactly the same when they're in uniform with their hats and sunglasses. At last, I found Rocco and he sent word along to my group that I was getting closer (finally!). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I texted PJ to let him know that I was walking up the hills and that it might be a while. I was feeling pretty down about being so far behind schedule. But he reminded me to just keep going and have fun. That's when I watched a girl drop right to the pavement. She got up and said she was fine, but was clearly wobbling on her feet. The police came over and called the EMTs for the poor girl. And I realized that I might not be even remotely fast, but I was determined to at least crawl across that finish line.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">PJ and Patrick met me at the bottom of Heartbreak Hill. They walked up with me to keep me company. Along the way, a very nice, drunk college girl offered me two dixie cups of beer. Knowing I was probably already dehydrated, I told her to give them to my husband. She also wanted to give one to my "friend." Apparently, Patrick looks older from behind because when he turned around and smiled with his 12 year old face full of braces and she said, "Oh, God, I'm sorry!" It was pretty funny. Hopefully we've got many more years before Patrick is actually drinking dixie cups of beer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At the top of Heartbreak Hill, I finally got to my squad. It was completely amazing. My mom, stepdad, stepmom, aunt, uncle, ALL of the in-laws, one of my nieces, two of my best friends from college (with family in tow), and my neighbor were all waiting for me in the t-shirts my father had made. It was quite a sight! I know they had been waiting a long time for me to make it 20 miles and it was such a relief to finally get to them. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With my nephews included, it says, Go MOM Go!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Daddy & the gang</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My squad. So amazing to see them all. Only sad that they didn't save me any of Lala's calzone.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After hugs and tears and complaining about the fact that everything hurt (plus a salty snack), I had to go finish this damn race. Patrick decided to run to the finish with me. I kept trying to talk him out of it because I really didn't think he could run 6 miles, but he was insistent that it wouldn't be a problem. Sophie was so upset with me that I wouldn't also let her go, but I had to draw the line at a nine year old in flip-flops.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Patrick came along for the run. Right by BC we saw a mom from the kids' school cheering for us. Then, at the top of Lake St., I ran into another one of my very best friends. Annette gave me the best hug ever and told me to keep going. Although, I thought she was going to give me a ride in her stroller (which would've been nice). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Coming downhill into Cleveland Circle, my legs were toast and I told Patrick to slow down so I could walk for a bit. That's when we ran into some of my friends from work. This was around mile 22 and I felt pretty close to dead. I'm not even sure what I said to them. Something like, "I can't believe you guys are still here." and "Oh my God, everything hurts." It's a total blur, but I know I was happy to see them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">All along Beacon Street, I gained newfound respect for the spectators who hang on or come out for the late runners. It was so amazing to have these people camped out still cheering, high-fiving, and giving out treats along the way long after the bulk of the crowd has passed. I even saw some of the teachers from my kids' school and they had a great little cheering crew going!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVdFgktFpaI8QovAdPqW3_JjulBgip8sKrVr2xAwkTRY-qBOu5fDDypHrS-iduc7ASrEK7bhxDzXHFW-mNmUD07Ms-YPMGxMaRInZVU81lVAD_8FnlgUc_vWLn67V70G1wlGyYiRteIo8/s640/blogger-image-1869451191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVdFgktFpaI8QovAdPqW3_JjulBgip8sKrVr2xAwkTRY-qBOu5fDDypHrS-iduc7ASrEK7bhxDzXHFW-mNmUD07Ms-YPMGxMaRInZVU81lVAD_8FnlgUc_vWLn67V70G1wlGyYiRteIo8/s640/blogger-image-1869451191.jpg"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Patrick was a real trooper. He ran the 6 miles in untied basketball shoes. He also spent those miles assuring me that I wasn't last and that there were, indeed, still runners behind me.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sometime around Coolidge Corner, I saw my friend, Dawnie and her gang waiting for me with signs. There weren't too many people still cheering in that spot, so it was an awesome sight. Further down Beacon Street in Brookline, I spotted the Citgo sign for the first time. My breath hitched and I started to cry. It was just a tiny, red speck in the distance, but it was the first sign that I was actually going to make it to the finish line in my hometown.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Near Kenmore Square, the crowd got thick again. And thank goodness, because I had nothing left in me at that point. I was coasting on sheer willpower and the fact that I didn't want to stop in front of the crowds of people. As we were running under the little underpass outside the square, PJ texted me to tell me that the kids would be joining me at mile 26. Apparently, my father-in-law had asked the police officers if it would be okay, and they gave the green light. So, they handed the kids over the barricades and waited for me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Coming down Boylston St., I could see the finish line. Finally. At the 26 mile marker, I slowed down because I couldn't see the kids anywhere. Then I heard this piercing scream and saw a little letter M jumping up and down. Naturally, it was Sophie. Patrick and I ran to the kids and they tried, in vain, to line themselves up so their shirts said, "Go MOM." They kept screwing it up, which was some real comedy, but they finally worked it out and made the run for the last 2/10 of a mile to the finish line. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It. Was. Amazing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There were times during that run, that I was sure I couldn't possibly go all the way. But, to finally be jogging down Boylston, hand-in-hand with my five kids while crowds of people in the stands chanted, "Go, Mom, Go!" was a moment I will never forget for the rest of my life. All I could think right then was that I didn't even know these people and they were all cheering for me and my kids. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Luckily, there was a photographer who works for Boston.com who just happened to be there to catch this shot of us just after the finish line.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTkkDtv556BOlmx36vk6esHDYZy9HZVRrf0Ft7BHSo7kp7Y7rrcb5pdMl8T0QhBORwHsm-SPrjFablBjh25XAlcdPU0970bnTkUWT6vPNQDiiyXJE-UrneoFSGjaBKHde8vaTI7O3esI/s640/blogger-image-525807687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTkkDtv556BOlmx36vk6esHDYZy9HZVRrf0Ft7BHSo7kp7Y7rrcb5pdMl8T0QhBORwHsm-SPrjFablBjh25XAlcdPU0970bnTkUWT6vPNQDiiyXJE-UrneoFSGjaBKHde8vaTI7O3esI/s400/blogger-image-525807687.jpg" width="400"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">People I knew were sending this to me after it went on the Boston.com Instagram page. I was the "Go, Mom" lady on the internet for a day. Fifteen minutes of fame, baby. Too bad Ellen never called. I thought, for sure, she'd want us on her show. ;)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And my husband caught this video so I can relieve those 40 seconds forever. It really was the most incredible feeling.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After we crossed the line, I got my medal, and a blanket to keep warm. I saw my cousins there, too, and Martha made sure the kids got the royal treatment for their 2/10 of a mile run.</span><br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Space blankets & snacks for everyone!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2gxdcu5VtfZ0Qn5SM9sLln3fi4DTr8YDupWzAJBEB2qIYrUXvWSXhalbTPZp3oLZMOf5e4Z6UwQlncRB8CYlBEb0prF6vFmZrl0GKzgj1SoBKbffRjus9-jK8YeShGRi06cAMJxm9CE/s640/blogger-image-239377664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2gxdcu5VtfZ0Qn5SM9sLln3fi4DTr8YDupWzAJBEB2qIYrUXvWSXhalbTPZp3oLZMOf5e4Z6UwQlncRB8CYlBEb0prF6vFmZrl0GKzgj1SoBKbffRjus9-jK8YeShGRi06cAMJxm9CE/s400/blogger-image-239377664.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Lisa, Donnamarie, & Martha were the first to find us at the finish line. Love these ladies!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnurzO4QaURbTM2umcZLBMe7ELPsWXcC-ipjvN02B8EqtvNm5ywmVkL-MDpkD3UWvtXBRqpzvHlKSWHzX7-m-8iqwScRARk_kPpRagVDvu24tE7xBkyMFPr1mc_3cncRlbJU1OmBk45Q/s640/blogger-image-1735598835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnurzO4QaURbTM2umcZLBMe7ELPsWXcC-ipjvN02B8EqtvNm5ywmVkL-MDpkD3UWvtXBRqpzvHlKSWHzX7-m-8iqwScRARk_kPpRagVDvu24tE7xBkyMFPr1mc_3cncRlbJU1OmBk45Q/s400/blogger-image-1735598835.jpg" width="225"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">David Wade tweeted a picture he took of us just as we were crossing the finish line.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My sister was working the race course as a nurse, so I didn't get to see her until the end, but it was terrific.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I received so much support during my training and fundraising. Special shoutout to PJ for getting stuck with the kids for every long run I did on the weekends. Being a slow runner means they really take a long time. And a shoutout to my friend, Erika, for listening to me go on and on and on about running on every lunch break. She said she was relieved when it was over because she felt like she trained for it, too. And another shoutout to Tina for driving the kids to school way more than I drove hers, so I could squeeze my short runs in before work. A shoutout to Elliott, Erin, & Bonnie for organizing the team to memorialize their friend. And to all of my donors to the Krystle Campbell Memorial Fund. I feel so honored to have run in her memory. As tough as it was, I would totally do it again. (Hopefully a little faster next time.)</span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-81555075462170948832016-02-15T12:33:00.000-05:002016-02-15T12:33:26.286-05:00Training, So Much Training...<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For the most part, the marathon training has been going pretty well. I've definitely struggled in the last two weeks to fit in some of my short runs because of weather and life, so I'm trying to keep an eye on that. I have a new-found respect for all of the lunatics who've done this year after year and trained through a New England winter. I can't even imagine what last year must have been like with our record-breaking snowfall. It's a huge pain in the ass (and calves, and hamstrings). We had been having an unseasonably warm winter, but Boston stayed true to form and went straight-up arctic. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I now take it personally if you don't shovel your sidewalk because running over bumpy, frozen snow is like running at the beach and my legs just can't take it. Also, I try to avoid running in the street because Massholes are aggressive drivers (where do you think that name comes from?) and I'm trying not to get run down. My last long run was 12 miles of icy, slippery, snowy crap and it sucked. I started giving the finger to every house that didn't have a shoveled sidewalk. And I may or may not have shouted something passive-aggressive (or aggressive-aggressive) to the lady getting into her fancy Range Rover with 6 inches of snow on her entire sidewalk. If you're too fancy to shovel, hire someone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My long run day is Sunday which means I should've put in my miles yesterday. Except for the fact that the wind chill was -30* and I am not that <strike>stupid</strike> dedicated. I figured pushing it off to today was no problem. Until I checked the weather and realized that today was going to be 5*. So, now I'm moving it to tomorrow which is supposed to be 50* and raining. (Go home, New England weather, you're drunk.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My fundraising has been going really well. If you haven't had a chance to donate, I'd really appreciate your help and support for such a great cause. Go to the <a href="http://www.tbf.org/giving/make-a-gift/krystle-campbell-memorial-fund" target="_blank">Krystle Campbell Memorial Fund</a> and mention runner Lisabeth Minihane in the comments. Thanks so much for any bit of support you can offer. It's helping my team to reach their goal!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Last but not least, if you have any amazing music that I should add to my playlist, send along the suggestions. My long runs take forever at my pace, but it's always great when someone's song suggestion comes on. I think of that person and it keeps me going!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~Lissie</span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-10729908378334434002016-01-14T22:47:00.001-05:002016-01-15T18:21:03.496-05:00My First Marathon<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, a few months ago, I ran my first half marathon. It was the first time in my life I'd ever gone a distance like that. Until that point, my longest race had been 5 miles. After accomplishing the whole 13.1 (& still feeling well), I started toying with the idea of doing a longer race. Like, a full marathon. Which is completely insane, because one half marathon at my snail's pace hardly qualifies me to think I could ever do such a thing. But the idea had been stewing in the back of my mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Being a lifelong Boston resident, I kept thinking how amazing it would be to have my first marathon be one of the most prestigious marathons in the world - right here in my hometown. But, who was I kidding? That was just a crazy idea in my head. And really, even if it ever happened, it was just all about me. Something I would like to say I had done (or attempted to do). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Enter my friend, Erin. Erin and I have taught together for almost 7 years. A few nights ago, she posted this on her Facebook page:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was a sign for sure. This marathon wasn't just going to be some goal I wanted to accomplish for myself, anymore. This was going to be so much bigger than just me. I messaged Erin right away and quickly became part of the team of eight runners who will b<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">e running to raise money for the Krystle Campbell Memorial Fund. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am so honored to help raise funds in Krystle's memory by running the 2016 Boston Marathon. Which is where you all come in. I am going to need so much help. Maybe you have a great song that I can add to my playlist. Or maybe you can like one of my <i>many</i> posts about running that will pop up on Facebook (or Instagram or Twitter). All of that is sure to keep me going during my training. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What I will also need is your help in raising money for the <a href="http://www.tbf.org/giving/make-a-gift/krystle-campbell-memorial-fund" target="_blank">Krystle Campbell Memorial Fund</a>. If you'd like to donate, please <a href="http://www.tbf.org/giving/make-a-gift/krystle-campbell-memorial-fund" target="_blank">click on the link</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">****In the comments section, be sure to mention <b>"26.2 in the City She Loved" </b>and<b> runner Lisabeth Minihane</b>. This is <b>very </b>important. Without using my name, the donations can't really be tracked. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you prefer to send in a check, it </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">should be made payable to “The Boston Foundation”, and should reference the Krystle Campbell Memorial Fund in the memo line & <b>runner Lisabeth Minihane</b>. Please mail checks to:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Please let me know if you have any questions. Any amount you can donate will help me reach my fundraising goal for the team. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thank you so much for all of your help, love, and support. I'm so excited & slightly terrified to take on this task, but I know the adventure will be worth it!</span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-53975201076079301812015-12-15T07:56:00.001-05:002015-12-15T08:27:08.536-05:00Lunches...How I Hate Packing Lunches<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There are all kinds of chores around my house that I love to complain about. If you've ever read my blog, you know that the laundry pile comes up about a million times. But, there is nothing quite like packing lunches. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here's where the fact that I have five kids really comes into play. Anything times 5 can be pretty dramatic, but lunch making has to top the list. By the time I've come home after work, made and served dinner, and thrown in yet another load of laundry, the last thing I want to do is start packing lunches. So I wait until the morning. And then I wish I had just buckled down and done it the night before because it really is a chore. Now, if I could just get an assembly line of Nutella sandwiches going, that would be awesome. But, each of my darling children thrives on their individual personality and it really shows when it comes to what they eat.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One morning last week, I made Sean a Nutella sandwich. He's pretty easy because he only likes two things: sugar or chicken. Usually it's in the form of a Fluff or Nutella sandwich or popcorn chicken that I recently found out his poor teacher was heating up for him every day. Charlotte wanted a ham, cheese, & mayonnaise sandwich. Lucy likes tuna. But not on bread. So I whipped up some tuna with mayo, salt, and pepper, and found a container and a fork for her. Patrick likes ham, but also not on bread, so I rolled up individual slices of ham in a sandwich bag. And Sophie decided she'd really enjoy some sliced cucumbers (sliced the long way, not round) with a side of hummus. I don't know when I became a short order cook. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'd happily get up before the children to make these sandwiches (because I don't sleep all that much anyway), but these fools change their minds and tastes almost daily. And believe me, the hot lunch at school is a savior sometimes if not for the fact that it costs $5 per child (& I don't really have an extra $25 per day to fund my laziness) and they don't have Taco Tuesday every day (because that's the only day Sean actually likes the hot lunch).</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sadly, I will never be that Pinterest mom who turns her kids perfectly healthy lunches into adorable little animal faces. And i</span><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">f you're struggling with Christmas gift ideas for me, sign up for a week of packing my kids' lunches. Today was Taco Tuesday (amen and hallelujah), but we're wide open tomorrow!</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">~Lissie</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"> I just Googled "adorable kids' lunches" and now I have so many questions. Like how? why? and WTF?</span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhev5LngxZivsf9kDWD9kircAnQXdGHJDVBOJqZTAmraB8Emp9-oyJXpWV9V-kRoBeT44q0eFZqqwrQNBpGFPMZPQ0-e9CXVc60WZ3cu1wM7Nc00kFljTf74ALl1rGGtuDkuyQaS006d-8/s1600/olaf+lunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhev5LngxZivsf9kDWD9kircAnQXdGHJDVBOJqZTAmraB8Emp9-oyJXpWV9V-kRoBeT44q0eFZqqwrQNBpGFPMZPQ0-e9CXVc60WZ3cu1wM7Nc00kFljTf74ALl1rGGtuDkuyQaS006d-8/s320/olaf+lunch.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Found this on Pinterest from Bentos on the Bayou. I'll never have that kind of time on my hands.</span></td></tr>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-90242984546625400112015-10-03T23:01:00.000-04:002015-10-03T23:01:01.168-04:00What Was I Thinking?<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tomorrow is the big day. My first half marathon. I didn't buy a clever t-shirt to wear, but one of my favorite ones that I've seen says, "This seemed like a great idea 3 months ago." Truer words were never spoken. I set this crazy goal for myself simply to see if I could do it. I'm still not sure if I'll even finish. And I'm a little terrified of the potential disappointment I'll feel if I can't make it. But I know that I've busted my ass training and I'm certainly going to try. In order to confirm my status as a total lunatic, I've already registered for my second half in May. So, if I don't finish this one, I've got another goal to shoot for. And if, by some miracle, I make it to the finish line, I can use May's half marathon as a way to beat my time (if only by a minute). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm a slow runner. But I've plodded along for 185.31 miles since July. (But who's counting?) And even though this task still seems insurmountable, I can look back at all the runs I've logged over the summer and realize that those runs got longer and longer. Without me even seeing it, I've been getting stronger and increasing my endurance. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So... Ready or not, here I come. I'm going to channel my inner superhero and try to make my it all the way to the finish line. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Damn, I miss my WonderWoman Underoos...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If all else fails, at least I'll get to test out my sister's version of advice: </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1MbOItTgNEWywXT3tlmCBbi0CGqOElMlsZIkOqfLrhIHojcWvjS0LsIUQAEDfDycR5ARYIvdZFk-4s3cc2x47O5ShnwahX-5oVocz0ptgXvo2JEa0Gp8tHAYv0gklLuLLvNIUefeDug/s400/blogger-image--147008337.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="390" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(That middle finger emoji is perfect.)</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, wish me luck... I'm just hoping to make it to the tent with the beer and lobster rolls - even if I have to crawl!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~Lissie</span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-25780711345109020162015-08-04T20:56:00.000-04:002015-08-05T15:10:51.768-04:00The Rhythm Is Gonna Get Ya<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last week, I wrote a post about the fact that I've been training for my first half marathon. One of the challenges of training is keeping myself motivated for runs that are getting progressively longer. And, on those days when I can't get outside to run because I'm the only adult with the kids, this can mean running for 80 minutes straight on the treadmill. Ugh. I've done the whole "watch Netflix on the treadmill" thing, but I find myself getting so into whatever I'm watching that it actually becomes too much of a distraction. (I almost fell off during an old episode of The Office that cracked me up.) The only thing that really keeps me going, whether on the road or on the <i>dread</i>mill (see what I did there?), is really good music.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, I spent a bunch of time working on a playlist of songs that would keep me going. Some of them are just good songs that I like. Some have inspirational lyrics that keep me going when I want to quit. (Beyonce is right. Girls <b><i>do</i></b> run the world. And if Florence & The Machine are going to tell me to run fast for my mother and fast for my father, then that's exactly what I'm going to do.) And others aren't necessarily by my favorite artist (I'm talking to you, Macklemore), but they have the exact tempo that matches my rather slow running pace.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I thought I'd share my playlist here in case anyone else is looking to add something different to their running/workout mix. But, I'd also like some suggestions. These runs are getting longer and I need to mix it up once in a while. So, I'm putting it out there for input:</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What are your must-have songs that really get you moving?</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Share in the comments. I really need the suggestions!</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here are a couple screenshots of my playlist. I just hit shuffle and hope something gets me moving!</span><br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUov0hfY9E76VFEAcg7_xeQwl8FGFvNTcb2O0yO5dhf7TfU6DXw1sJS3rvoxYqSdaDxAAldSxTanxKZuvx0GBiwpXqKdGnwIKsw0H8uMkKLEPlxSWbSLAeq6ATSuI3MxzH5bEx678PjtE/s640/blogger-image--479861626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUov0hfY9E76VFEAcg7_xeQwl8FGFvNTcb2O0yO5dhf7TfU6DXw1sJS3rvoxYqSdaDxAAldSxTanxKZuvx0GBiwpXqKdGnwIKsw0H8uMkKLEPlxSWbSLAeq6ATSuI3MxzH5bEx678PjtE/s400/blogger-image--479861626.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There will be no judgement of the fact that I just <i>love</i> me some Flo Rida.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~Lissie</span>Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-35669728995888911822015-08-04T08:54:00.000-04:002015-08-04T08:54:02.842-04:00Phineas & Ferb Are Pissing Me Off<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you have school-aged kids, or have ever flicked past the Disney channel, you've probably seen an episode of Phineas & Ferb. The premise of the show is cute, in that the boys try to invent wild things to do each day of summer vacation. I'm fine with all of that. It's the theme song that pisses me off. In reality, it's not even the whole song. It's like, the first two lines.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One hundred and four days????</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I relish every single day of my summer vacation. I love the fact that most of my kids don't even wake up before 9am. Or the fact that they pretty much just live in their bathing suits (which seriously cuts down on my laundry). And they can serve themselves their own breakfast. It makes for some really relaxing mornings. Mornings that I just wish there were more of. <b>Because there sure as hell aren't 104 of them</b>. Come on, Disney! What school district do you come from?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I know I'm extremely lucky in that my career affords me all kinds of time off to spend with my kids. It makes up for how completely insane my days get during the school year. But, I got out of school on June 29th, and I head back for a week of professional development starting on August 21st. Now, I'm no genius, but I'm pretty sure there aren't 104 days between those two dates.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So don't mind me, I'm just over here bitching that my summer vacation is about 50% of the magical one mentioned in a cartoon theme song. {sad trombone}</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And for those of you who work all year round, please put away your torches and pitchforks... I am well aware of how fortunate I am. ;)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~Lissie</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-25999238434159517582015-07-30T10:16:00.000-04:002015-07-30T10:16:00.076-04:00Run, Forrest, Run!<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Running is not something I've always done. Hell, when I was one of the captains of the crew team in college (& in the best shape of my life), I'd still weasel out of the run to the boathouse because I had to head straight to student teaching after rowing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After I had some of my kids, I found the Couch to 5K plan and used that to work my way up to running a 5K. I've restarted that plan a million times because I've stopped running for so long in between. Before I had baby #4, I really got into running. So much so, that I ran into the 8th month of that pregnancy and had my best 5K race time just five weeks after Sean was born. But, I let it go again some time later. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last fall, for the first time in forever, I completed the Couch to 5K training. It was the first time in ages that I'd actually gone past week 4. I've been running on and off since then.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In May, I ran <a href="http://www.bostonsruntoremember.com/boston/index.html" target="_blank">Boston's Run to Remember</a> in honor of fallen police officers. The race is either 5 miles or a half marathon. My aunt and I ran the 5 mile race (my longest run ever) and my cousins ran the half marathon. I was so proud of myself for completing the 5 mile race. But, I was totally inspired to run more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That brings me to this summer. I've set a new goal for myself. I've been running for weeks using a new training program. It's helping to prepare me for what I've done...</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zhWgIP0adk6LLHUb3AZ9-Niw58X3KMnm81_2LFYhkG9_ta6MV0bt1UBPpPo3Zy3UjvLPwpjZ9KH6GmHWq3TwwaN0KzHoo7TXAs2eMqKw-tUbR_nw4tBcFuVRaI_mavJDO0a5HzG2BxY/s320/blogger-image-183153291.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That's my registration for my first (ever!) Half Marathon...</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zhWgIP0adk6LLHUb3AZ9-Niw58X3KMnm81_2LFYhkG9_ta6MV0bt1UBPpPo3Zy3UjvLPwpjZ9KH6GmHWq3TwwaN0KzHoo7TXAs2eMqKw-tUbR_nw4tBcFuVRaI_mavJDO0a5HzG2BxY/s640/blogger-image-183153291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yup. This fall, I'm running my first half marathon. I know there are a lot of runners out there who have no problem running a half marathon (or even a full one), but for me, this is a huge deal. I've never done a run this long and I've never had the follow-through and willpower to spend this much time and effort training. As far as races go, the <a href="http://www.hamptonrockfest.com/index.php" target="_blank">Smuttynose Rockfest</a> is supposed to be the flattest course in New England. It's also finished off with beer, lobster rolls and clam chowder. So, if I'm going to kill myself doing my first half marathon, I may as well be rewarded by beer and shellfish.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What's not to love about this course? Flat and ocean views! (Let's just hope the weather cooperates.)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, wish me luck. I'm really excited (and just a little freaked out)!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~Lissie</span><br />
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-70527331018068177762015-07-15T09:56:00.007-04:002015-07-15T09:59:00.410-04:00Summer Vacation, Baby!<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Every summer, I write a post like this, but I have to do it. (It's tradition, now.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I freaking love summer vacation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I enjoy my job (most days), even with it's challenges. But I really don't enjoy being a working mom. All the little things that I have to do just to keep my day running smoothly during the workweek/schoolweek make me slightly insane. But this is my pay-off. These amazing weeks where we don't have to go anywhere at all. I can do whatever I want with the kids without rushing them out the door at an obnoxiously early time. It's incredible. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I also happen to be blessed with kids who are (for the most part) pretty low maintenance. As long as I throw them a meal or a snack once in a while, they don't need too much from me. That's why they're so fun to hang out with. We get to take a stroll at the Arboretum, go to the zoo, museum, or aquarium (everyone buys us memberships for Christmas - best family gifts ever). And some days, they just want to hang in the house and play in the pool. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The beauty of having an entire basketball team for children is that they can entertain each other when we are at home. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHd-gW6GpouxxQ6M1UdSwanesHCfZkDi3xux8nYsUMlD63c0ueNy3jt5kpDdzCGG2bMnAfZ1WpHVpItOXtgFUxSh_3VrQfpZfUdnSZsnMIGmoD8RLMXzYlK5MXKfU6WFJja4vTm0J6aI/s640/blogger-image--1544237989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHd-gW6GpouxxQ6M1UdSwanesHCfZkDi3xux8nYsUMlD63c0ueNy3jt5kpDdzCGG2bMnAfZ1WpHVpItOXtgFUxSh_3VrQfpZfUdnSZsnMIGmoD8RLMXzYlK5MXKfU6WFJja4vTm0J6aI/s320/blogger-image--1544237989.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Best money we ever spent. This foolish pool has been up for three summers and it has entertained them for countless hours! </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I intend to live every minute of this vacation up. I've got grand plans for relaxing. I've already finished three books this week. Anything that involves me not hunting for uniform socks (where do they go??) and packing lunches sounds pretty awesome to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, here's to summer vacation!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">~Lissie</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">PS</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Here are a few highlights from our Martha's Vineyard vacation...</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Fourth of July!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrU5urYbcMathUTUmK7GSGob_oBRzHG5bhhJoDhj7kT57uWULP2Ugs0zaRuzZYZgWg80rBZJaqwxPWn8U73psnbQoOiR13Us9ruOgSTDLYzLADFxlHwS_rLvyy5dQ8lH5dCJFW5fYStv0/s640/blogger-image--2003851289.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrU5urYbcMathUTUmK7GSGob_oBRzHG5bhhJoDhj7kT57uWULP2Ugs0zaRuzZYZgWg80rBZJaqwxPWn8U73psnbQoOiR13Us9ruOgSTDLYzLADFxlHwS_rLvyy5dQ8lH5dCJFW5fYStv0/s320/blogger-image--2003851289.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously, my kids can sleep anywhere</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophie & I biking to the beach. Tandem!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My partner in crime!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beach babies</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Can't wait until next year - we love Martha's Vineyard!</span></td></tr>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-22969455098373223542015-07-02T08:31:00.000-04:002015-07-02T08:57:50.460-04:00Rite of Passage<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Growing up, my parents never censored me too much. <a href="http://gigglesandscreams.blogspot.com/2012/02/censorship-or-lack-thereof_27.html" target="_blank">I've written about it before</a>. They definitely indulged my thirst for scary movies and books (or passed it on to me at a young age - I'm not sure which). Either way, it seems to me that I remember watching my fair share of scary movies very early on in life. This may also be why I never slept in my own room (even though I had one) and I'm still afraid of dolls and clowns. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oddly enough, I have fond memories of watching Poltergeist as a kid. I was probably 5 years old and I'm sure I begged my folks to let me watch it. I'm sure I also cried and never slept alone again, but I still think of that film as one of my favorites. Because Hollywood insists on recreating every movie from my childhood, my kids have seen the trailer for the new Poltergeist movie. And they have been begging me to let them see it. I'm guessing that 2015 special effects will have a major advantage over those from 1982, so I have no intention of letting them see the new movie just yet. But I decided that last night, as a family, we would watch the original movie. I was so excited. This was going to be my kids' first scary movie. PJ was a little concerned that we'd traumatize the children and they'd all be sleeping in our bed forever. But, since Charlotte has informed me that she's still going to be sleeping there when she's 6, I don't really see what the problem is. (She's kind of a jerk. And a nightly visitor in my bed. But that's a story for another day.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, we busted out the popcorn machine, turned out the lights, and put on my favorite scary movie. And my kids were not scared. Granted, Charlotte slept through most of it, but the rest of them really weren't scared. I have had a lifelong fear of clowns from that one scene in the movie. (Side note: for those of you sending me pictures of people dressed as clowns - NOT scary. It's dolls. Dolls dressed as clowns that scare me. Because they come to life and strangle you under your own bed. People dressed as clowns? They just have questionable fashion sense.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQqyCFDnLjjnky9gX7mHXnEDwU1BRdzhyphenhyphenfmuSUlswhdjQzNM_zFEaCGTOF95qOAf6PBpHM8GFoM7xeJlGaHyh5p_YF8hQQKsXxVkifNUs6AaEdb_uZgbHvQ8a8MZ3KWs4bTsg0z5Drx7A/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-07-02+at+8.49.38+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQqyCFDnLjjnky9gX7mHXnEDwU1BRdzhyphenhyphenfmuSUlswhdjQzNM_zFEaCGTOF95qOAf6PBpHM8GFoM7xeJlGaHyh5p_YF8hQQKsXxVkifNUs6AaEdb_uZgbHvQ8a8MZ3KWs4bTsg0z5Drx7A/s320/Screen+Shot+2015-07-02+at+8.49.38+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_B4u_a7iH7elJKq5QELnr7rqbNJutPVcn8ld6AKTxXLF6iLVlgrX-V9fJxmCKlqQg-32VuFeCqvcR_rLcqxlM6Ap8rK-_3FMTiHYAXUuOpXQwEgSlDJIz-RRwzJ_YSZSSZOn_kJreNY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-07-02+at+8.49.56+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_B4u_a7iH7elJKq5QELnr7rqbNJutPVcn8ld6AKTxXLF6iLVlgrX-V9fJxmCKlqQg-32VuFeCqvcR_rLcqxlM6Ap8rK-_3FMTiHYAXUuOpXQwEgSlDJIz-RRwzJ_YSZSSZOn_kJreNY/s320/Screen+Shot+2015-07-02+at+8.49.56+AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Seriously - this scene only lasted a few minutes, but it stayed with me for life...</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">They definitely jumped once or twice, but they didn't seem to be overwhelmingly scared. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not that I wanted to actually traumatize my children, but there were a few times when they laughed. I was highly disappointed.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And now I can see that I'm going to have to wait for the 2015 version to come out so that I can really try to scare the pants off them. I'll have to get tips from my mom and dad on how to do this right.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">~Lissie</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>What about you? Are you a fan of scary movies? Leave your story in the comments below...</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-9528368223864714162015-02-15T20:14:00.000-05:002015-02-15T20:14:25.966-05:00Snowpocalypse Dinner<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For the fourth weekend in a row, my weekly grocery run has coincided with another monster snowstorm. As these snowstorms also mean hubs has to be at work managing snow removal, that leaves me alone with five kids. As much as I love my kids (who are generally well-behaved), I really didn't think I could handle a trip to the store with all of them and ALL of the lunatic storm-peppers who are still buying all of the milk, bread, and eggs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, yesterday, I made a quick trip to the CVS down the street for a few snacks to keep them quiet and decided to wing it from there. Hence this tweet:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We made it through until tonight when I realized that I was pretty much, officially out of food. So, I called the kids into the kitchen and informed them of what I had left. They got to pick from those choices. Dust off my Mother of the Year award because this dinner was just about completely devoid of any nutritious benefits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In case you're wondering, I had a beer and some ramen noodles. Hopefully, we can venture out tomorrow and stock up on some French toast ingredients (and maybe even some real food). There's another storm coming Tuesday and we're scraping the bottom of the barrel (or back of the pantry).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Whatever I do, I need to avoid the crowds. I can't take another trip to the grocery store surrounded by these people:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Think warm thoughts for us... surviving Snowmageddon 2015 is getting old...</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The view from our window this morning. There are streets there somewhere...</span></td></tr>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~Lissie</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What about you... how are you surviving this winter? Share your story in the comments below...</span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-45309505919867687862015-01-28T08:06:00.001-05:002015-01-28T21:13:18.109-05:00Playing Possum Isn't Just A Saying, You Know...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I used to use the term "playing possum" when Lucy was little. Lucy was painfully shy as a tiny one. I could almost never detach her from my hip. One time, my sister offered to babysit her and Patrick so PJ and I could go out. Lucy then proceeded to spend the next three hours not moving and not making eye contact. She played possum. I think in her little brain she thought if she stayed still long enough, they would all go away. Luckily, she grew out of that by the time I had to pry her off my legs to go to preschool.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I know that the saying stems from a possum's defense of playing dead to avoid prey. I had just never witnessed it, myself. Back in October, I wrote a <a href="http://gigglesandscreams.blogspot.com/2014/10/tuesday-tip-43.html" target="_blank">tip for Tuesday </a>reminding you to lock your dog door (if you have one). This is because I walked through the living room one morning and almost stepped on the slaughtered possum that my asshole dog left on the rug for me. It was completely disgusting and I made PJ get rid of it. I stop my wifely duties at carcasses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">About two weeks later, we were all sitting down to dinner in the dining room. Our dining room and living room share a big space, so when the kids were done with dinner, some of them moved over to the couch. A few of us were at the table and a couple of kids were hanging on the couch. None of us saw the dog come in from the dog door by the slider. All of a sudden, Sean started shouting, "Mommy, mommy, mommy!" in an increasingly panicked tone. Then he yelled, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT HE'S EATING!" This foolish animal has eaten so many toys and baby dolls, I just kind of assumed that was what Sean was so upset about. I should've known better by his panic. I walked over and the dog was very busy playing with a bloody mess that was, in its better days, a possum. How he even managed to walk right by all of us and drop that in the middle of the living room is a complete mystery. Ninja asshole.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I quickly ushered the kids out of the room so PJ and I could deal with it. Possums aren't small, by the way. I've dealt with the cats leaving gifts of birds, mice, and even snakes. Possums are not tiny critters. PJ went and got the shovel and asked me to hold open a large trash bag. As he scooped up this poor, dead thing, it moved. Not only did it move, but as PJ lifted the shovel the damn thing STOOD STRAIGHT UP. It wasn't dead. It was playing possum! At that point, we couldn't stick a live possum in a bag, so I held the front door and PJ walked straight through the house balancing a possum standing up on the end of his shovel. I'm so sad I didn't get a video of that. (Stop for one moment and close your eyes. Please picture my husband walking ever so gingerly through my house with a shovel held at arm's length and a full-grown possum just standing straight up on the end of said shovel.) </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Those were some impressive moves.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFHFTvDvgO55A00ut4xtr3CeBCzbdOusiaMkYOQps-6etVlRu7K5v8DqtFOjIAI0WzzD41mF9o16ZfobbKFkh2yAR673C8WHOX5aEi97wObVIBfZPIGbkCMjNqmnnbbJvU0o1eFpkK0Z8/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-28+at+7.51.36+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFHFTvDvgO55A00ut4xtr3CeBCzbdOusiaMkYOQps-6etVlRu7K5v8DqtFOjIAI0WzzD41mF9o16ZfobbKFkh2yAR673C8WHOX5aEi97wObVIBfZPIGbkCMjNqmnnbbJvU0o1eFpkK0Z8/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-01-28+at+7.51.36+AM.png" height="185" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thank you <a href="http://opossumsocietyus.org/general-opossum-information/opossum-defense-mechanisms/" target="_blank">Opossum Society of the US</a> for this handy explanation!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Since the great live possum of 2014, we haven't had anymore animal incidents. I can only hope we get to witness the origins of some other popular English idioms in 2015. Maybe someone will actually let the cat out of the bag. Or, perhaps, we will hear something straight from the horse's mouth. Like a neigh. Or a whinny.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~Lissie</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>-->What about you? Have your pets left you any awful "presents"? Were they still alive?? Leave your story in the comments below...</b></span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-8505852434531307492015-01-27T10:53:00.000-05:002015-01-27T10:53:02.313-05:00And Then This Happened...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I think enough time has passed that I can write about what happened over the long weekend. It took me a good week to get over the trauma. (<i>Disclaimer: If you have a weak stomach, this post is NOT for you. Go read something else.)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The weekend before last, we decided to take a little ski trip for the long weekend. PJ & I each took a personal day on Friday with the intent of getting a good ski day in. Naturally, things didn't quite go to plan. Sophie woke up in the middle of the night getting sick. We spent so much time dealing with that, we decided to sleep in a bit and leave later. By noon, Sophie was back to her old self and we headed north.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We got up to Bretton Woods around 4pm. Even though it was freezing out, we figured we could do a bit of skiing with the kids. We worked up a good sweat wrestling all five of them into all of their gear and then promptly froze our damn asses off. After the second run, the kids wanted to quit. We managed 2 more runs before we actually had a few of them in tears and called it quits.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXEOvOWlHuAYCytSoB57cunTGuz9pFaIjBb0Ts1RQYtYOVdilw0F7Bs-NLvmHZiOYfUVwR0RRw4278Jx4gttvEqBZ4IPEe5NyZxelNaa00Rzo_VYoTWSUnizjOcUBoqXcD2vElK6B8NQ/s640/blogger-image--53976928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXEOvOWlHuAYCytSoB57cunTGuz9pFaIjBb0Ts1RQYtYOVdilw0F7Bs-NLvmHZiOYfUVwR0RRw4278Jx4gttvEqBZ4IPEe5NyZxelNaa00Rzo_VYoTWSUnizjOcUBoqXcD2vElK6B8NQ/s400/blogger-image--53976928.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Accurate Weather app always pegs it. Much Freezy.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The next day, as it was still "much freezy," we decided to hit up the local indoor water park. The kids had a blast, didn't freeze their tails off, and were looking forward to a full ski day on Sunday. Or so we thought. {cue foreboding music}</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlke5iVpt8ZBl5RoyHwU0Uq-dslFvoC6ilIpS5ISkUQaJcOjY391MOEQu0lZwP116kYy2zdHh4H2uC0BJb2Fl0uHeG2giACaQFiNkXWekEIcW6U2vCGS8ABRDGsRm4W8HJwe3JKvrcwg/s640/blogger-image-1097382532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlke5iVpt8ZBl5RoyHwU0Uq-dslFvoC6ilIpS5ISkUQaJcOjY391MOEQu0lZwP116kYy2zdHh4H2uC0BJb2Fl0uHeG2giACaQFiNkXWekEIcW6U2vCGS8ABRDGsRm4W8HJwe3JKvrcwg/s400/blogger-image-1097382532.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Aren't they adorable? You can't even see all of the disgusting germs they're harboring.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Saturday night at dinner, I wasn't feeling all that well. I ordered some soup for dinner, but decided not to eat it because I had a feeling that I'd be seeing it again. When we got back to the hotel room, it started. I was officially ill. I knew I couldn't possibly be lucky enough to dodge the stomach bug after staying up Thursday night with Sophie, a.k.a. Lady Barfs-A-Lot. So there it was. I was sick. Dammit.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Our hotel room was a suite with a bedroom, a bathroom attached to that, and a living room with a pullout that all of the kids were sleeping on. I was laying in our bed, feeling sorry for myself and not really resting, because I had a pretty good sense that trouble was coming. Right on cue, Lucy called out from the living room that her stomach hurt. I rushed her into the bathroom just a second too late. So now I was sick and cleaning up after someone else with the nice hotel towels. As she was getting sick, PJ started, too. Those two were in the bathroom together (a bonding experience that should never happen), when I felt another wave of nausea and promptly used the trash bin. We were officially a frat house after a really big night of binge drinking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After that bout, PJ, Lucy, & I climbed into our bed. I kept the trash bin nearby in case Lucy couldn't climb out of the middle of the bed fast enough. Over the course of the night, I barely slept because I was either sick or sleeping on high alert waiting for the next kid to start. My only concern was keeping the beds clean. We weren't home where I could wash sheets or clean beds (or even send them to another room). We were trapped with only a few clean towels left and one set of sheets in the closet. God help us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The three of us continued to get sick over the course of the night. Around 1am, Patrick announced that he didn't feel well. Luckily, the hotel is environmentally conscious, so I gave him the recycling bin to keep next to his side of the pullout.That way, we didn't risk him running through the bedroom and not making it to the bathroom in time. I don't think I really slept the rest of the night because I knew the little ones were next. Sure enough, Charlotte woke up around 2am. She told me she was very thirsty. I got her some water and kept asking her if she felt alright. She assured me she was fine and let out a little burp. But, I knew better. All of a sudden, she started, too. The poor kid. She didn't know what was happening. All I could think was that I needed to keep these damn beds clean. So, I slapped my hand over her little mouth and carried her like a football to the nearest trash barrel. For the rest of the night, the five of us were getting sick sporadically in our disgusting little germ factory. Right on cue, Sean sat up in bed and threw up, too. For those of you who believe in Hell, I believe I've had a glimpse of it. Hell is two adults and four kids taking turns barfing in a little hotel suite with one toilet (and, thank the Lord, two trash barrels and a recycling bin). All while the fifth kid, who started it all, talks about how she's totally fine and wants to know when we're going skiing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Luckily, the getting sick part only lasted a few hours. But then we stayed in bed all day feeling like death. That may be the first Patriots playoff game I've ever watched without food or beer. You know my kids are really sick when you can trap five of them in a hotel room for an entire day and never once have to ask them to be quiet. It was kind of amazing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The next day was the last day of our long weekend and we all woke up feeling perfectly fine. Sadly, with a three hour ride home, we didn't really have time to do any skiing.We'll have to try again, soon. Hopefully, the next trip will go off without a hitch. Or at the very least, without any vomit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~Lissie</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(And before you ask, I did what I could to clean up the room. We also warned the maid and tipped her well.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>--> What about you? Any stomach bug disasters in your house? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...</b></span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-22086432348680349302014-12-12T14:49:00.001-05:002014-12-12T14:49:18.642-05:00Screw italics. How is there STILL no sarcasm font??<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I</span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"> had a little tantrum in the notepad app of my phone last week. This past Wednesday went MUCH better, but I thought my tantrum was still worth posting:</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Do you know what's not annoying? </span>Staying late at work every Wednesday for professional development (when Wednesday has the toughest classes). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">You know what's not annoying? </span>When you've had a really tough day of teaching a few really rude students and you come home to children who are acting ever so slightly psychotic. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You know what else isn't annoying? When your husband decides to test his fancy new smoke detectors at 9 pm to make sure that when one goes off, they all go off. Btw: they work. ALL of them. <i>Yay</i>! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And do you know what's not annoying? The Rugrats-themed hold music that the hubs has on speakerphone at top volume while he continues to test the smoke detectors. (Seriously. Google the Rugrats music, then blast it on repeat. Not painful, at all.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Also not annoying: the chewed-up chocolate Advent calendar that the dog left all over the rug. Now he'll have the runs and Charlotte will be one pissed-off little elf. SO not annoying. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Do you know what else isn't annoying? When your shins still feel horribly bruised from the ski boots you buckled your giant man-calves into a full week ago. It's fun walking around feeling like you've been kicked repeatedly by evil midgets. (Dwarves, little people... Whatever. Too busy not being annoyed to be politically correct.) </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It is also not at all annoying when one of your students waits until the class is over (and the next group is arriving) to throw an entire bucket of squares on the floor. Math manipulatives make excellent confetti.</span><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/AVvXsEhB2mBS-ezbpBpiqDdx9dQYBXRLbiOPmMO3niZQbrfX49tXxiN8Ru4NikKjISIucvJ9nfajUfAK7L8Q9sCbKEC1eGrlfhHfXLXaIiQ-0QXpCMfavUUV-uv4j736gcqpQ2L8FKDmTj-tqBo/s640/blogger-image-1935544137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2mBS-ezbpBpiqDdx9dQYBXRLbiOPmMO3niZQbrfX49tXxiN8Ru4NikKjISIucvJ9nfajUfAK7L8Q9sCbKEC1eGrlfhHfXLXaIiQ-0QXpCMfavUUV-uv4j736gcqpQ2L8FKDmTj-tqBo/s320/blogger-image-1935544137.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Maybe I should've made this some kind of counting activity...</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"> So, I'm over it today (it <i>is</i> Friday, after all), but I'm sure this list has growth potential. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">What about you? Anything you'd like to add?...</span><br />
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-74109647976762102092014-11-09T18:12:00.001-05:002014-11-09T18:16:10.440-05:00Wardrobe Malfunction<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I feel like it has been a while since I had a good wardrobe malfunction to report. Not to worry, friends. I'm up to my<a href="http://gigglesandscreams.blogspot.com/2012/06/tuesdays-tip-9.html" target="_blank"> old tricks</a> again.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Two weeks ago<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">, I took a pair of jeans out of the closet that I hadn't worn in a while. (I'd gotten too big for them.) Imagine my joy when I realized that I could actually button them without feeling like I was doing damage to my internal organs! I buttoned them up (with no pain) & thought I looked pretty good. Until I got to work.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Before my first class, I went to the ladies' room. It wasn't until I pulled my pants down that I realized that I could actually see THROUGH the thighs of my jeans. Apparently, I'd put the jeans back in the closet with worn out thighs - Why? Why didn't I throw them out?? - and it had been so long, that I'd forgotten all about the holes. (It's a tough life when your thighs rub your jeans right out.) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Luckily, I have good friends at work. How do you know if you have good friends? Here's one quick rule to measure by: Will your friends stand behind you and basically look right up your ass to make sure the holes in your pants don't show? No? Then you don't have very good friends. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I managed to make it through the day without flashing my thighs at anyone. I also managed to throw those babies right into the trash when I got home. (Or, right onto the floor. Where they will end up in the laundry and hanging back in my closet for me to repeat the same mistake on another day. It's hard to keep track of these things.)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm pretty sure the whole "ripped jeans" look isn't meant to show you the floor when you have to pee.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #3d85c6; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">**And be sure to visit my <a href="http://www.zazzle.com/gigglesscreams" target="_blank"><b>Zazzle</b></a> store. Don't you need a new coffee mug or apron?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>-->What about you? Have your clothes failed you lately? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...</b></span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-17723997797810460092014-10-29T08:27:00.003-04:002015-01-28T07:23:24.457-05:00Tuesday's Tip (#43)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Here's a tip for you:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Lock the dog door.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />Otherwise, you may wake up early and decide to walk through your living room and narrowly avoid stepping on the carcass of a murdered possum. Because, of course. Why wouldn't my dog go out in the middle of the night and kill a possum to bring back for me as a gift? Silver lining: I'd rather have a dead possum than a live one in my living room. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Be glad I decided to draw the line at what is Instagram-worthy. No corpses. </span></div>
Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-66683344925580716102014-08-26T10:56:00.002-04:002014-08-26T10:56:29.165-04:00Tuesday's Tip (#42)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Here's a tip for you:</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Deny.</span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mentally, I'm going to be at the beach today. I still can't believe summer is over. My kids don't go back to school until next week, but I've got a full week of professional development this week. Wasn't it <i>just </i>June 25th?? How is this possible? So, I'm in denial. I'm going to participate. I'm going to learn. But a little part of my brain is going to have her ass planted in the sand with an ice cold beer in hand. Changing my desktop background to this:</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">BEACH!</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Maybe next week, I'll embrace this inevitable time of year and get a pumpkin spice latte. Until then, I'll be pretending to work on my tan. </span></div>
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<b><strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">...& be sure to check back every <a href="http://gigglesandscreams.blogspot.com/p/tuesdays-tips.html" target="_blank">Tuesday</a> for a new tip!</span></strong></b></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-74712598545170481242014-08-14T08:16:00.000-04:002014-08-14T08:16:42.146-04:00On The Other Side<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had a revelation this summer: I'm coming out on the other side. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have (finally) gotten past the most needy stage of the kids' development. They are really independent now. (Well, as independent as any five kids under the age of 11 can be.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">From February of 2003 to April of 2012 I was pregnant, nursing, or sometimes both. Add another year for when Charlotte was still a 2 year old and you've got ten straight years of neediness. This summer was when I realized that stage is over. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We've gone on two vacations this summer. I had a revelation on the second one while I was sitting near our fire pit late in the evening. The grown-ups were enjoying the fire, good music and conversation and it was getting late. So I told the kids to go up to bed. And they did! They all just walked up the stairs, brushed their teeth, and went to bed. I could still hear them goofing around from outside, but that quieted down as they dropped off to sleep. It's amazingly liberating. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I enjoyed every minute of having babies and toddlers (why else would I have had so many?), but this stage is quite nice. When I say, "It's time for the beach," they get their own bathing suits on. Even Charlotte. And hers is only backwards thirty percent of the time! I don't really know what to do with myself. But, I do know enough to enjoy it while it lasts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Because I know all of you moms with older or grown children are laughing at me. You know what's coming next... moody teenagers. That's why I'm going to revel in this brief lull in parenting duties while I can!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That's freedom, right there!</span></td></tr>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-61374831547278468522014-08-06T13:38:00.003-04:002014-08-06T13:38:19.513-04:00Wordless Wednesday - Annual FOAM DAY!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's <a href="http://gigglesandscreams.blogspot.com/2012/08/wordless-wednesday-foam-day.html" target="_blank">Foam Day, again</a>. This is my <a href="http://www.gigglesandscreams.blogspot.com/2013/08/keeping-them-busy.html" target="_blank">annual post</a> where I tell you that I'm never bathing my kids again after they spend a straight hour in foam that smells like liquid Dawn...</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No, they're not all mine - my niece is there, too.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXe-_A_lelpTt9E5ywUBdttVXI7hFedydPJuC_rpy_pewVo70xP_7_nqsJquqqOTxCsUZyL4_RkpC9S4XoVwhBc0_xsgS8E50vF353Kwo6cvF9MgI5D_9lWeJCK2zb1gHNSbGPr9XCn3A/s640/blogger-image-145926758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXe-_A_lelpTt9E5ywUBdttVXI7hFedydPJuC_rpy_pewVo70xP_7_nqsJquqqOTxCsUZyL4_RkpC9S4XoVwhBc0_xsgS8E50vF353Kwo6cvF9MgI5D_9lWeJCK2zb1gHNSbGPr9XCn3A/s400/blogger-image-145926758.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm fairly certain these are the six kids I brought, but it's really hard to tell.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Patrick</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Lucy</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Regan is in there somewhere.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sophie & Lucy</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sean</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Charlotte</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We even ran into our other cousins that we hadn't seen in ages: Cameron, Tyler, & Ryan!</span></td></tr>
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<br />Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-17156534420768286112014-08-05T08:42:00.000-04:002014-08-05T08:42:26.274-04:00Tuesday's Tip (#41)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Here's a tip for you:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Preview your playlists.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A couple of weeks ago, Sean had a play-date with one of his little friends. I don't know the parents all that well, so, when they came to pick up their son, I invited them in. I had the speaker out on the deck and it was hooked up to my phone playing some random "Top 25" playlist from Beats Music. Basically, it's just the top 25 pop songs for the week. It didn't even occur to me that there would be a song on there that had questionable lyrics (or that these aren't the "radio edits"). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, there I was chatting politely - and totally tuning out the music that is on the radio - when PJ started making crazy eyes at me. I assumed he was trying to tell me I had food on my face or something when he kept looking at me urgently with those crazy eyes.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I seriously wasn't getting the message. He just kept looking like this and I kept wiping at my face like I must be covered in something. (Thanks, Crazy Eyes, for helping me illustrate my point. OITNB)</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I just wasn't getting his hints when my friend, Dawn, saved me with, "Wow. That's quite a song." Up until that point, I wasn't even focused on what was playing. And then I heard it. Not just a few bad words, but <i>really</i> explicit rapping all about what some nice young gentleman would really like to do to some fine young lady. I flew into the kitchen to grab my phone and skip to the next track and prayed these poor parents weren't listening too well. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, the next time you're having company (especially people you barely know), preview your playlist. Unless you like to make a first impression with sexually explicit lyrics. Then, just hit shuffle and see what happens.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...& be sure to check back every <a href="http://gigglesandscreams.blogspot.com/p/tuesdays-tips.html" target="_blank">Tuesday</a> for a new tip!</span></strong></span></span></b></span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1141722484000500345.post-29223387000735474432014-08-04T07:37:00.004-04:002014-08-04T07:37:46.666-04:00Death By Bubbles<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My kids have reached an age and stage of independence. It's a wonderfully liberating time as a mom who had five kids in less than seven years. Which means I get a little too comfortable with my freedom. Take bathing, for example. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We have a big jacuzzi tub that fits at least three of the kids. They love taking bubble baths in the tub. Now that they're all getting so big, they can set up the bath with very little help from me. It's a win-win situation - they're getting clean and they're staying out of my hair. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Except for when I don't supervise and they decide to use half a bottle of shower gel to make the tub extra bubbly. Sean and Charlotte turned on the jets and had bubbles up to their chins. This wasn't too much of a problem. They were just extra squeaky clean. It's that I never considered what would happen after the little fools drained the tub and the bubbles popped. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It all went downhill when I needed to take a shower. The edge of the tub is quite high, but I didn't think twice about stepping right into it. I no sooner put my right leg into the tub than it slid across the scum left behind by millions of (now dirty) shower gel bubbles. My right leg went flying and my left leg slammed into the ledge that runs around the edge of the tub. I ended in a bizarre split with one leg in the tub and the other outside of it. Great day for the lady parts. This fun little gymnastics stunt warranted a swear that I only save for very special occasions and rhymes with brother-trucker. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I couldn't find a recent picture of Sean and Charlotte, but I found an old one from when the big kids used to take bubble baths together:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijlgba_97g2TgvMOB9CvjIuMoy0vSNXTzyCzshyphenhyphenATmsWDnGYi3SmfrmheeeI0YhF6_qFP-w5UDDrZpFsDXD4HaV7rKBlYDH_JFlwM4qE-e3A2VCZJsiX2rfGMGO_63fwp1mqOCP8aymZM/s400/blogger-image-1911894558.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="367" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">That, my friends, is extreme bubble-bathing.</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijlgba_97g2TgvMOB9CvjIuMoy0vSNXTzyCzshyphenhyphenATmsWDnGYi3SmfrmheeeI0YhF6_qFP-w5UDDrZpFsDXD4HaV7rKBlYDH_JFlwM4qE-e3A2VCZJsiX2rfGMGO_63fwp1mqOCP8aymZM/s640/blogger-image-1911894558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Unfortunately, the combination of all of those bubbles and my natural grace led to this: </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8JZ-egN9vr-ZMKPyTBjFnr3xYTDQYmldj84SO5QthXFwgEVbzw7j3NBj3tIj2Sg5hBDQKmUYLbLGdO7ZvFNdj8Qcl1rzTL1bOqOdVo_fFK5nPgliRhGZiAnrmMWJ8n-punSwQRNq-BU/s400/blogger-image-1512391246.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="275" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">As a general rule, I don't usually post pictures of my fat thighs for all of the internet to see, but that bruise is too fantastic not to share. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX82vwQV64uVj_muvbeDWn0oIf09LaYN4dFQ5zCrqLTIfdZxLF251-ziPDaEoqTuRWT9FimB7u4hL1XNTuNY9ohvMyputVSRdko9zmizAy9ej7V0r51dCwar4VyBeKfdMmlz46XKdSifE/s1600/blogger-image--20269593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX82vwQV64uVj_muvbeDWn0oIf09LaYN4dFQ5zCrqLTIfdZxLF251-ziPDaEoqTuRWT9FimB7u4hL1XNTuNY9ohvMyputVSRdko9zmizAy9ej7V0r51dCwar4VyBeKfdMmlz46XKdSifE/s400/blogger-image--20269593.jpg" width="331" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Every day it's a different color. I'm like Rainbow Brite. I can't wait until it turns yellow and brown in a few days. Super attractive!</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8JZ-egN9vr-ZMKPyTBjFnr3xYTDQYmldj84SO5QthXFwgEVbzw7j3NBj3tIj2Sg5hBDQKmUYLbLGdO7ZvFNdj8Qcl1rzTL1bOqOdVo_fFK5nPgliRhGZiAnrmMWJ8n-punSwQRNq-BU/s640/blogger-image-1512391246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I guess the lesson here is to supervise the use of my shower gel or, at the very least, teach the knuckleheads to scrub the tub after one of their extreme bubble baths. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #6fa8dc; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">HEY! If you enjoy the blog, why not become a follower? I'm the one who is applying sticky butterflies to the bottom of the tub so I don't slip. You can also <strike>stalk</strike> find me on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/GigglesAndScreams" target="_blank"><b>Facebook</b></a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/GigglesNScreams" target="_blank"><b>Twitter</b></a>. <a href="http://www.facebook.com/GigglesAndScreams" target="_blank"><b>Like the page</b></a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/GigglesNScreams" target="_blank"><b>follow me</b></a>!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #3d85c6;">**And be sure to visit my <a href="http://www.zazzle.com/gigglesscreams" target="_blank"><b>Zazzle</b></a> store. Don't you need a new coffee mug or apron?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>-->What about you? Have your kids tried to kill you yet? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...</b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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Lissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06213049746459937782noreply@blogger.com0