tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21730549937620765862024-03-06T03:50:55.050-05:00La Mejor VidaRachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.comBlogger473125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-91947922420639901332013-07-15T23:02:00.002-04:002013-07-15T23:18:24.337-04:00Athletics: It's never been easy for me. . <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There was that moment when I came up over a small hill and I was thinking, "wow, my legs are tight today."<br />
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The new route for my first long run in months has me on edge with anticipation. I've run this neighborhood several times, but never turned off on the side streets. <br />
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And then I see it. A hill that has a steady incline for about five houses and then a sharp incline right at the top. <br />
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And then I stop. Just the sight of it makes me shut down. Mentally, I'm toast. <br />
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REWIND to two years ago when I began my physical "fit"ness journey. I was never good at sports. I lack the hand eye coordination that it takes to keep flying balls from smacking you in the face. Or getting on the scoreboard. My biggest claim to fame, sports wise, was in high school. I played on the girls basketball team my senior year. I practiced so hard to make that 3 point shot. And in one game I actually succeeded, alas it was for the other team. Im sure the running affected the lack of oxygen getting to my directionally challenged self.<br />
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Running. I only swore to do that if someone were chasing me. But after Type 1 diabetes entered my life to stay, I knew that I had to find some way to keep healthy and watch my children grow up. <br />
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It all started with running. You can read about my<a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2012/07/an-evolution-in-exercise.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;"> Evolution in exercise here</span>,</a> if you'd like.<br />
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But to cut to the chase,<a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2012/11/im-only-half-crazy.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;"> I finished my first half marathon</span> </a>and then vowed I'd never run again. Half-joking, of course. I was tired of the training schedule, just in time for Winter. That's all the motivation I needed to chill. <br />
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Then came spring and I had a new goal. A triathlon. I had found I loved swimming and was learning to like road biking. So last month I finished my first triathlon (and am set to do my second one in two weeks in Nashville). I survived the swim, endured the biking. But what made me guess my sanity? The run (at the end of the other two). <br />
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You see, I have a hard time with all things physical. Not because<i> I can't do it</i>. But because I <i><b>believe </b></i>that I can't. Or I defeat myself in thinking I have to do it the same as someone else. I have to be as fast as they are. <br />
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Im back at the foot of the hill. The beast. It's "nasty." </div>
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Sure I could turn around and go back the way I came. But I know there's no point. Im only going to hit another hill in less than a mile. </div>
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So now what? </div>
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This is the part of exercise that, I swear, it feels like other people have the edge on me. And I just have to learn how. I have to <i>BELIEVE</i> that I can do it. </div>
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So right there at the foot of the hill, I have a pep talk. Rachel: you can do hard things. <i>YOU </i>can do hard things. Rachel you can do <i><b>HARD </b></i>things. You can kill this hill. Who cares how fast it is.. just get up the damn hill. </div>
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Here I am two years later after starting this journey and learning that when I stop challenging myself mentally I start to believe I don't have what it takes. But today I learned a very big lesson: I have to give myself the freedom to move at my own pace. Sometimes it's going to be faster than my PR and sometimes it's going to be "painfully slow." But at the end of the day: it's <i><b>ME </b></i>doing it. It's the journey. It's the moment of pushing myself to <i>believe</i>. It's the small victory that gives me the courage to believe the next time. </div>
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I love that no matter the time I have away from any one apparatus (swimming, biking, running) I can always enjoy the challenge of "getting back into it," knowing that it will get easier. </div>
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I just have to be willing to push myself up that hill. </div>
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Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-62636520163798174392013-07-12T15:08:00.002-04:002013-07-12T15:20:35.816-04:00In which you start questioning your theology. . . <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Has it ever occurred to you that <i>you</i> might be wrong?" </div>
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No. It hadn't. </div>
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At least not in 33 years of life. I mean, that's enough time to decide dogmatically what you are comfortable accepting as right and balking at the rest, right? </div>
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So what happened? Why did some of my theology change? I consider that an easy answer: </div>
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<b>I realized I was actually able to ask hard questions. </b></div>
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For the first time in my life I was told that I was safe, with God, to question things I had been taught. Most people have this happen in college and then some abandon their faith. Not me, I was secure in the Gospel. No matter what changed in any of my views on God, the Church or The Bible, nothing altered the obvious anchor of my soul: the birth, death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ and it's finished work to save me. </div>
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However, everything else was up for debate. And that is an unnerving place to be. Mainly, because other's aren't so comfortable with my questions. <b><i>Others don't feel the same freedom that I do to question long held traditions of thought that can</i></b><i><b> easily be argued another way using another set of Scripture.</b></i> Some others can tend to focus so much on where I will land on a particular issue (that has been debated for centuries by Christians the world over) and forget to see what brings us together. </div>
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I just said to a friend today: I'd give anything to go back to where I was three years ago. Where I was much more willing to just take a position and believe I was absolutely RIGHT! And everyone who disagreed was simply, wrong. </div>
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And seeing as how I don't want this post to be about "what" your theology "should" be and more about what to do if you start asking hard questions, let me tell you this: <b><i>BE BRAVE! </i> Trust that the questions or the doubt can not separate you from the love of the Father. </b></div>
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Here is a quote from a gal I admire, Rachel Held Evans: </div>
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"I’ve decided to quit apologizing for my questions. <strong> It’s not enough for me to maintain my intellectual integrity as a Christian; I also want to maintain my emotional integrity as a Christian. And I don’t need answers to all of my questions to do that.</strong> I need only the courage to be honest about my questions and doubts, and the patience to keep exploring and trusting in spite of them.</div>
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The bravest decision I’ll ever make is the decision to follow Jesus with both my head and heart engaged—no checking out, no pretending.</h3>
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It’s a decision I make every day, and it’s a decision that’s made my faith journey a heck of a lot more hazardous and a heck of a lot more fun. It means that grinning monster, doubt, is likely to stick around for a while, for I know now that closing my eyes won’t make him go away. It means each day is a risk, a gamble, an adventure in vulnerability and trust, as I figure out what it means to follow Jesus as me, Rachel Grace—the girl who cried for Zarmina, the girl who inherited her mama’s bleeding heart and her daddy’s stubborn grace, the girl who digs in her heels, the girl who makes mistakes, the girl who is intent on breaking up patriarchy, the girl who thought to raise her hand in Sunday school at age five and ask why God would drown innocent animals in Noah’s flood, the girl who could be wrong.</div>
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It means I’ve got a long race ahead of me, but I’m going to run it with abandon. I’m going to run it as <em>me.</em> Because I think that’s what God wants—all of me, surrendered and transformed, head and heart engaged."</div>
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<span style="color: #666666;">(read the entire post</span><a href="http://rachelheldevans.com/blog/scandal-evangelical-heart" style="color: lime;" target="_blank"> <span style="color: lime;">here</span></a>)<span style="color: #666666;">. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; line-height: normal;">Ultimately, that is my heartbeat. To remember that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to disagree with those that you have long since been in unison. It's okay to be wrong. The wonderful thing about a life lived with God is that it is never stagnant. I will be learning and re-learning so much over the next (however many) years I have left. But I want it known that I wholeheartedly believe that God will redirect me as needed. The pendulum will swing with less force and settle in the middle at times and then at other times, it will fling wildly to one side. But I will never be dogmatic in anything accept the preciousness of the Gospel of Christ and it's power to change my life. </span></div>
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For now, I will go back to consuming <i>Mere Christianity</i> by C.S Lewis to help keep me grounded by that anchor. </div>
Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-50682792517265205122013-06-10T22:56:00.000-04:002013-06-10T22:56:01.905-04:00My return? Over a period of three days I've had two different people ask me when I planned on "returning" to my blog. <div>
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I laughed. </div>
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It's quite complicated. </div>
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But not in the "oh I have four kids and a crazy schedule" complicated. </div>
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Or the "it's summer and we are never in one place long" complicated. </div>
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No. It's more about the fact that I've truly been at a loss as to what in the world to say. </div>
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I love writing. I really do. And I keep a journal <strike>regularly</strike> at times. So I do have some form of an outlet. Not that I would ever assume to pour out<i> those</i> thoughts on a public forum. But I think I've been at a place where I don't ever.ever.ever.ever.nay, ever want to come across as though I have something to enlighten you with. </div>
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But in that tightrope of being vulnerable to share parts of my journey on a public forum and the desire to encourage others, I realize that sometimes it's probably best that I just not write at all. </div>
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I could also just keep it to the facts but who wants to hear about someones endless checklist of things accomplished or derailed? </div>
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Alas, I guess that is the nature of most blogs anyway. </div>
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In a nutshell my checklists would include (since my last post in, eh hem, February): </div>
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*My eldest finished his first semester of public school (and 1st grade). </div>
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*We went to Disney. </div>
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*Our car died on the way back from Disney. Long two days followed. </div>
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*We had to buy another van. Which I love, btw. </div>
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*My baby turned 3. </div>
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*My oldest turned 8. (today!)</div>
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*My little sister got married. (who's feeling old?? <strike>Not </strike>me). </div>
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*My hubby started graduate school (who's gonna pray for me over the next two years?)</div>
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*I surrendered to the purchase of an insulin pump so no more daily injections. </div>
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*I just completed my first triathlon last weekend. Absolute blast (and another post entirely). </div>
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And I think that sums it up. I feel like I'm forgetting something. Oh well. </div>
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I have a lot of things that I am trying to process and hopefully those will result in future posts. But for now, I will leave you with some picture cuteness. If anyone is still following this thing.. give me shout in the comments. </div>
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Adios! </div>
Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-65178601819814892702013-02-20T16:34:00.000-05:002013-02-21T09:17:57.127-05:00Moms, take a chill pill.. and keep it real! Recently I lit up my Facebook wall because of a challenge I offered: Take a day to post pictures on social media that show the "not so glamorous" parts of your day. Keep it real. <br />
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No pictures of the kids playing perfectly together, the house cleaned, the healthy snack you are about to consume, the hair so perfectly done. <br />
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Nope. Just pics of what you think would be so embarrassing for you if someone walked in your house right now, except.. put it on Facebook. <br />
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The idea caught fire and as people started tagging me in their photos it was beginning to look like an episode of "Hoarders" on my wall. And I loved it. <br />
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So did most everyone else. <br />
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I've learned that a lot of us function out of some false patterns of thinking. And I really did this "dare" to try and expose those shaming thoughts.<br />
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<b>Theory 1</b>: Most of us think we are the only ones that don't have "it" together. Whether it's our house, our kids or our marriages, a lot of us think that we are alone in the struggle to do "it" all.<br />
<br />
Th<b>eory 2: </b>We feel that if we were to actually #keepitreal we would experience rejection, judgement and shame. <br />
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So then the pics started coming in..<br />
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First, there was the Laundry situation:<br />
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Then there was the house:<br />
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And then of course, the kid situation: overwhelmed momma's allowing tv (even on pretty days, <i>GASP</i>).<br />
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Here is some reality to my theories. <br />
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<b>Theory 1</b>: Most of us think we are the only ones that don't have "it" together. Whether it's our house, our kids or our marriages, a lot of us think that we are alone in the struggle to do "it" all.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Very quickly, the comments started pouring in, "Wow, so I'm not the only one whose house looks like this?" "Oh girl, my kids have watched three shows today and it's only 9 am" or "Well, you would feel right at home at my house because it looks the same way." Very quickly, once people started #keepinitreal, others were able to come into that vulnerability and keep it real too. Once "other" people posted pictures, it gave courage to someone else that they could post as well. The tension is being willing to give the "gift of going first" to someone else. And this isn't just on social media, but in real life. In our relationships, being able to invite others into our reality is what makes depth and meaning come alive. We stop the cycle of thinking we have to have "it" together when we realize that we aren't the only ones who can't. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Th</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><b>eory 2: </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">We feel that if we were to actually #keepitreal we would experience rejection, judgement and shame. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">As those comments showed, as soon as someone empathized with anothers' "chaos" it was freeing to then admit you had any yourself. And being the one vulnerable enough to post a picture allowed some freedom when that other person said, "Hey! That looks like my house." Y'all, I ain't gonna lie, watching an episode of Hoarders makes me feel better about the piles going on in my house. But the truth is.. I still got junk. There is a reason why inviting people over to my house is commonly known as the best motivation to get my house clean. Because I may not be able to handle the (assumed) rejection, judgement and shame that I think will be given if they saw my house "as is." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
I will never forget the first time I made a point NOT to apologize for my house being a mess when someone came in. The guest was only coming over to drop something off, but as she left she said, "It is so nice to know that I am not the only one whose house isn't always tidy." It was freeing for her, and freeing for me as well. <br />
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I will also never forget the time a neighborhood child came in to use my bathroom and upon leaving said, "Um, your bathroom really needs to be cleaned." <br />
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Of course I responded, "YES! It sure does. Would you like to clean it?" <br />
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I'm just gonna do what I can and #keepitreal. <br />
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So you tell me, what do you think?<br />
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<br />Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-11747217350445203412013-02-12T14:51:00.001-05:002013-02-12T14:51:53.574-05:00My life in a random postThings here have been crazy. Two week of sickness and hopefully everyone is on the mend. In two weeks we've had:<br />
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*one with ear infection and cough<br />
*one with ear infection and pneumonia, needing THREE breathing treatments<br />
*one with bronchitis and croup<br />
*one with bronchitis, vomit & diarrhea for 48 hours, needed IV fluids @ hospital.<br />
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Yes, I will be happy when spring is here. This is what our past two weeks looked like:<br />
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And to top it all off, two weeks of sickness could only mean that it be Alabama's most wet winter EVER. It has rained for what seems like an eternity. This has left a rambunctious toddler and dog inside my house for endless hours a day. You can guess what that means. <br />
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It also has given time for me to be still long enough to read and think (when the kids are napping). And I've got some random thoughts I still need to process. But I can try to post them and document them here.<br />
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1. I actually don't mind sick littles. It's what it brings that drives me crazy: home bound, no exercise, plans put off. In a perfect world I would see those things as a good balance but I must admit, by day 10 I am utterly D.O.N.E.<br />
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2. I saw my oldest (sweet boy) be rude to a girl on the neighborhood playground. She asked how old he was and then she said, "oh I'm 7 too" and he snarked "I don't care." In that moment I realized that no matter how "sweet" a boy is, he is rude when he has NO idea how to talk to a girl. I know it's universal, but it just brought to my attention the world I have entered: teaching my boys how to talk to girls. And preferably NOT by being rude in place of insecurity.<br />
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3. I realized recently that my baby girl gets overlooked a good bit. She is very compliant and plays well on her own. So that means that when I am left dealing with a demanding toddler or a emotionally <strike>explosive </strike>sensitive 6 year old, she is off on her own. And I desperately look forward to having next school year to just be with her while both older boys are at school. I simply can't wait to lavish her in some momma time.<br />
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4. Confession: I only like to snuggle with my dog when she's had a bath. And she has very little understanding of personal space.<br />
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6. I have grown weary of all the FB pics I post. I am working on an effort I wanna call "Reality Bites." It would be all the less than glamorous aspects of my day. With humor of course. Because even my "worst" day of jumbled mess is still better than most. But it's still good to live reality on the social networks lest everyone think my life is more glamorous than it is. <br />
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7. I haven't run/swam/worked out in 2 weeks. It is having terrible effects.<br />
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<br />Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-29428568009227153392012-12-19T14:15:00.002-05:002012-12-19T15:18:32.590-05:00A year in review.. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 35. <br />
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A National Holiday. At least in my <strike>family</strike> mind.<br />
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Ever since I was a little girl, I remember my birthday being a big deal. Maybe it was because I was the baby and the world revolved around me (sadly). <br />
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But even as an adult, I LOVE celebrating my birthday!<br />
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And after my "30th" debacle (in which I was not happy), I am happily embracing EVERY year since. <br />
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<u><b>My 34th year was full of huge milestones:</b></u><br />
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*<b> In February I decided it was time to get fit. </b> I started exercising and eating better (dieting) and lost 16 lbs by December. (pic on the right was in Sept).<br />
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<b>* I set out to become a runner. </b>And I did it! I started with a 10:30 pace in February and now run an 8:30 pace as of December. While I put a lot of hard work into this goal, I simply could not have made the improvements I did without my running partner (and trainer), Kristen. I met her when we joined our lifegroup at church. And she was eager to encourage me to get fit and exercise (she is, by trade, a spin instructor and a personal trainer). And all the time we spent working out really turned into a beautiful friendship that I am so very grateful to have. Love you New Jersey!<br />
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(here we are after my very first time running sprints.. sweaty mess!)<br />
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<b>* I ran some great races with my husband. This was a first for us. And it was awesome.</b><br />
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(the Kenya Relief 5k)<br />
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And one of my favorites was the Warrior Dash! a 5k with 10 obstacles included! </div>
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<b>*I ran my first<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> <a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2012/11/im-only-half-crazy.html" target="_blank">Half Marathon!! </a></span></b><br />
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<b>* I got my first <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2012/05/my-tattoo-fallout.html" target="_blank">Tattoo!</a> </span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>* <a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2012/12/we-went-loco-and-got-dog_10.html" target="_blank">We got a dog! </a></b></span><br />
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<b>*I had my first getaway with my husband in a very long time. And we also went ziplinning, which was also a first!</b><br />
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<b><u>*And one of the biggest, and most difficult for me, milestones was my oldest child going</u></b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2012/12/in-which-homeschooler-goes-to-school.html" target="_blank">"off to school." </a> </span><br />
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There was so much more that happened this year that was wonderful like the birth of my new niece, Eva Graciela, and the fact that I can now swim up to 2 miles (in training for a triathlon) and I have made some really amazing friendships that are icing on the cake. <br />
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All of this makes me sure that my 35th year will be even better! I am claiming it as the <b>"YEAR OF THE PULLUP!"</b> Yes, while I can run long distances, I have ZERO upper body strength and hope to be able to do some pullups by the end of next year. Also, I will be competing in my first triathlon(s) as well as doing the Tough Mudder in April. (watch the video below):<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/vh5HdPM_QuE" width="560"></iframe>
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IM CRAZY, RIGHT?? Thankfully I've already started training and Kristen is helping!!<br />
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While I am getting older.. I <b><i>REFUSE</i></b> to "get old." Gotta keep moving!! Gonna push myself to new limits and watch as I accomplish things I never dared to do in my 20's!<br />
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I'll keep ya posted!!Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-87038942277923023132012-12-12T13:00:00.002-05:002012-12-12T13:15:12.186-05:00A Reindeer sighting... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Merry Christmas from Stella! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">She was unamused.</span>Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-52024645291185306722012-12-10T21:14:00.000-05:002012-12-10T21:14:14.713-05:00My exercise in transparency.If you haven't read the post <a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2012/12/in-which-homeschooler-goes-to-school.html" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">"in which the homeschooler goes to school.."</span> </a> you may want to catch up before reading today's post. <br />
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I wanted to share where I was emotionally/mentally/spiritually through this process. It may encourage some and dumbfound others. Either way, I'd like to chronicle it as a "stone of remembrance" for future days of doubt. <br />
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Let me start by laying down a quick foundation for this post. I know that the topic of school choice is quite controversial. Not just in way of personal convictions but in philosophy of education. I get that. So let me be clear on some key points before you proceed rummaging through my scattered thoughts:<br />
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1. <b><u>I love homeshooling.</u></b> My philosophy of its benefits in education and how wonderful it can be has <i>NOT</i> changed. I still believe strongly that it is a noble venture and should be approached with extreme numbing down of expectations. Did that confuse you? Well, those that homeschool will know what I'm talking about. Rarely does it look like what we expect it to. But the benefits far outweigh, for most families, the cons and when done well, the child thrives. <br />
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2. <b><u>I am speaking about myself, not you.</u></b> I will keep all my statements focused on "me, myself, or I." Please hear my heart on this: this post is not trying to persuade you in any direction. It is merely me sharing where I have walked. If you feel encouraged, great! But it is <i>NOT </i>my desire to make you feel inadequate, proud of yourself or anything in between. <br />
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3. <b> <u>I desire respect from all sides of the discussion.</u></b><u> </u> There is enough GRACE at the cross to realize that this topic, while important for families to decide, is not critical to salvation, sanctification or the furtherance of the Gospel. Therefore it is not a dogmatic discussion. If you care more about where you land on the subject than you do for the people involved.. I encourage you to take some deep breaths and step away from the topic.<br />
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Okay, so that's done. <br />
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I will acknowledge that I like to be in control. Not in a "in your face" kind of way. Just a tad bit more subtle. And to be honest, I have learned (about myself) that as a professing believer in Jesus Christ.. I struggle to realize how much I pat myself on the back for said "appearance" of control. All the while, professing that I really do believe that God is the one who is Sovereign. Big picture. Yet, I struggle with the personal application of that truth. <br />
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So when I realized that I was deeply in over my head, beyond the "God never gives you more than you can handle" farce, I was ready to relinquish some control. The truth is that I can definitely put on myself more than I can handle and have the danger of not wanting to appear that I can't handle it, so I will take on stress that God does not intend for me.<br />
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I knew two months ago that I was not being consistent with Jorge. Our home chaos (just during school) was enough to make the most willing teacher and student have a nervous breakdown. And then there was the fact that he asked me if he could go. And his reason had nothing to do with an unhealthy attachment to his family. He wanted to LEARN, in quiet. Without the 2yo screaming and the 4 yr old whining and fighting with the 6 yo. And the mom constantly interrupting the learning to put out another squabble. <br />
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On the morning of my "aha moment" what hit me was the thought: "I can't do this anymore." That is truly THE single most difficult thing for me to admit. I didn't feel like a failure. No. I had taught two kids to read, basic math facts and potty trained three kids (the latter being the most noble!). No, I didn't feel like a failure.. it was the thought of "this isn't working anymore." <br />
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I sat on the couch and cried. Not because I wanted it to work, but because I knew that no matter how much more I tried it wasn't <i>going</i> to work. I cried because I was sad that what I <i>knew</i> would work would go against my dream. It would go against my comfort zone. It would mean..<br />
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.. I would have to<i> trust Him. </i><br />
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Then I cried because I realized that I<i> didn't</i> trust Him. <br />
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I felt as though God was calling my "bluff" and calling me out on yet another area of my life that I thought was "just fine." <br />
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Who would watch out for my baby?<br />
What if someone hurt his feelings and I wasn't there to comfort him and remind him of the truth?<br />
What if he forgot the foundational truths of his faith in the moment he needed them most?<br />
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You see, in my mind most mommas fear what other kids will teach their kids on the playground: like body parts and sex. But that stuff is common knowledge in our house. Yes, my 6 & 7 year old know the basics of sex. They know things that grown adults refuse to talk about with their teenagers. But that's just how we've done things in our house. So that's not my concern at all. Besides, any thing mentioned on the playground is open for discussion with us. (Shoot, it's likely my kids who would be "teaching" the other kids on the playground).<br />
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No, I had concerns about my son remaining sensitive to the things of God, if he isn't being taught those things all day. And I'm not talking curriculum here. Not a Bible class. But a "you get in a fight with someone and we get to bring the Gospel in to that discussion immediately"kind of way. I was uncomfortable that I would not be there to "fix" that for God. You know, me, His ambassador to my child. (said, tongue in cheek).<br />
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But in the middle of those What If's God whispered, "He's mine, Rachel. I made Him. I am responsible for changing his heart. I will speak those truths to him, yes, even at 7 years old. He wants to follow me and I will be faithful to that! Can you believe that I want to? That I'm capable?" <br />
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If he goes to school someone can hurt him and create a deep wound that can remain for life: "Yes, Rachel. But I am the God who can restore and heal." Besides, do I really think that I can protect him from this his whole life? No. <br />
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If he goes to school I don't have as much time to teach him more about the love of the Father: "Yes, but I am with him always. I speak those things to him. And you reiterate and give him examples." Besides, this certainly has made me more intentional THAT is for sure!<br />
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I honestly didn't have a problem realizing it wasn't working. I have always said that I would reevaluate each child each year. When it was time I had NO doubts he would be fine educationally speaking.. it was me that was struggling to relinquish my control over my concerns for his spiritual growth. Because, as parents, we have very little control there anyway (internally speaking).<br />
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There are some that would argue (heck, I used to be one of them) that keeping your kids home allows for a safety net of protection long enough to secure spiritual foundations in a child's life so that when they leave your home they are able to withstand the questions that will come to their faith. I understand that, I really do. <b>But I have to believe that if God can bring two individuals from broken homes, no Christian faith of their own until college and very strong influences from the world, to now have a thriving relationship with Him and a passion for the Gospel and a desire to lead their four children into a family and faith life that they themselves did not have.. that God is strong enough and big enough to handle my son going to public school for 1st and 2nd grade</b> (and beyond, if needed). <br />
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I would have never, in a million years, expected to follow this path. But given my specific set of circumstances that led us to decide this was the best option for right now, I am trusting that the Lord is leading our family specifically. He is giving us wisdom and discernment as to the needs of the moment as well as trust that He is able to redeem as well as orchestrate the heart of our children. And reminding us that He is not limited or bound by the place where our children receive their education.<br />
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This is not to say that there aren't specific challenges to making those foundations prevalent, and it does take way more intentional living than I have previously experienced, but it is worth it. <br />
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Our family is thriving and the stress level has gone down considerably. I am able to enjoy my time with the younger three and Jorge is able to learn and grow in areas that I was not able to pull off. <br />
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I appreciate all the prayers and support and I look forward to what the next year brings!<br />
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Thanks for sticking around long enough to read that. Any feedback you have is welcomed!!<br />
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Just keep it respectful! <br />
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<br />Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-9745653177728155582012-12-10T07:27:00.004-05:002012-12-12T13:07:10.664-05:00We went LOCO and got a dog.. It only took 10 years of my husband nagging me plus two years of his recruiting the children to nag and I finally <strike>caved</strike> agreed. <br />
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It started as any other day. Chaos. Children whining and fighting. A mother already in over her head with four children.<br />
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Perfect idea to add a dog into the mix, right? <br />
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Well, a friend on Facebook was asking for help. There was a dog at a kill shelter in GA that would be put down the following morning if no one adopted her. <br />
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When I saw her picture.. I was convinced she would be our dog.<br />
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She looked sweet in the face.. and downright scraggly in the second picture. But just knowing that she could get a second chance at a family who would absolutely adore her, made me excited.<br />
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I called my hubby at work and told him about her. And that if he were willing, I would call right then and make the verbal commitment to get her. <br />
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He said to go for it.<br />
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So I did. <br />
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After that we had to wait about five days until we got her. So we prepared. <br />
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We got a crate:<br />
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Which doubles as a nice stowaway for children..<br />
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We also had a family vote for the dog's new name. In the running was: Lola, Stella and (Eva's suggestion) Passy Gassy. Stella won by a landslide. But because we did have one kid fighting for "Lola" we ended up agreeing on "Stella Lola Garcia" and she would be called Stella, and on occasion.. Passy Gassy.<br />
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And when we went shopping the night before for toys.. I felt like I was shopping for my children. I was very excited. <br />
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We drove to Montgomery the next day to pick her up at Ashleigh's house:<br />
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The kids immediately loved her and Stella did GREAT in the car.<br />
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She had her first bath AFTER her first swim in the creek by our house.<br />
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She loves all the kids but has attached herself to the oldest, my very own dog whisperer, Jorge. <br />
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While it took about three days for her to stop growling at the kids, she has figured out how to get relaxed even in the chaos. <br />
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Her favorite respite is her crate. I am very thankful for that. The kids have learned this is the "no touch" zone. When Stella is in her crate she is telling us she wants a "time out." </div>
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And of course the couch is her favorite spot. But so far, she wants to rest ALONE. She happened to get one of the most affectionate families on the planet, but we are patiently accepting that, while she loves rubs and snuggles at her choosing, she prefers to sleep alone. Maybe one day that will change and we will be begging her to stop laying on us.<br />
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Her torture is her own doing. She simply can NOT stand the kids playing outside without her. But as a puppy, she doesn't quite get that she can't nip and bite at the kids when they play. Of course, she is playing as well, but she outweighs all of my children. So they ask me to bring her in when they plan on running around the yard. The temptation is too much for her. <br />
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The first three days were terrible, for me. It was more difficult than I imagined, what with having to train FOUR children to leave the dog alone as well as training the dog about her new life here. After all of the difficulty and the daily chewing of everything in the house, she is a sweet dog.. I realize that. And she is actually a very obedient dog, very willing to please. And I am very thankful for her willingness to love me even after I've repeatedly gotten on to her. There is so much we are all learning that there has had to be plenty of grace to go around. <br />
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But she is worth it. <br />
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She just better stop pooping all over my yard. I have to clean shoes at least three times a week. <br />
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I know, that's wishful thinking. Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-70160199373904644802012-12-09T16:40:00.002-05:002012-12-19T14:06:23.931-05:00in which the homeschooler goes to school.. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So what is the equation that allows the homeschooler to be enrolled in public school?<br />
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Mom's emotional breakdown + no money for private + child wanting to learn= public school </div>
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Yep, that's about it. </div>
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Four months ago my eldest, Jorge, asked me if he could go to school. "Why?" I asked. "Because I can't focus here. And can you make Isaac stop crying so I can finish my math?"</div>
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The kid had a valid point. But I gave him my husbands lawn mowing head phones, industrial strength, and he seemed happy. </div>
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Fast forward four months to two weeks ago. I had been in denial for about 4 weeks. I was overwhelmed, tired and frustrated. While the homeschool day had worked with kindergarten it was way harder to pull off now. I simply could not orchestrate enough consistency and quiet to allow for Jorge any time to learn, especially new concepts. </div>
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Then we got a dog. </div>
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Oh yeah.. that should make me sane. That is a separate post entirely. But God used the dog to show me how little I was actually getting accomplished anyway. The morning of my "aha moment" I had spent two hours dealing with the dog AND I had gotten up early just to make sure that we got school accomplished first thing. Needless to say, I realized how hard it was to pull this off and I then sat in a crying heap on my couch realizing the obvious: Jorge deserves more. </div>
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Sure, the schooling aspect was going GREAT! I could teach and he could learn, all day long, if it were just the two of us. He is such a willing student and a hard worker. However, it's <i>not just the two of us.</i> I know that there are so many people that are able to pull this thing off, but I was beginning to lose it. I realized just how tired I had become and, angry. I was so tired of hollering out at the younger three "Hey, go find something to do! Anything!! Just please stop interrupting our school time!" </div>
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I wanted so much more for them too. I wanted to be able to do the "fun" things I was able to do with Alex and Jorge when they were that age. Like, actually play with them. I wasn't able to pull that off either. </div>
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So, I called the school to find out what we needed to do to enroll. </div>
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I was <i>serious.</i> </div>
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When my husband came home from work, I <strike>ugly cried</strike> explained what was up. He did all he could do to contain his glee and said "I really think this is good. I think it's going to bring a lot of balance to our home." He has always been my biggest supporter, but had "suspected that it had gotten harder" for some time. I wasn't in a good place and he could tell. I am so grateful that he allowed me "my process" and supported me no matter what. </div>
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The original plan was to wait until January, but an educator friend of mine (Shelley) recommended going on and sending him so that the teacher could assess him and start strong in January. Of course, Jorge was thrilled with that idea. </div>
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So he started December 3rd. I think the highlight of his life was the fact that he would finally be able to ride the school bus with all the neighborhood children he already knows. </div>
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He woke up at 5am that morning, dressed and ready to go. I was excited too, since I had been in contact with his teacher, Ms. Davis, via email and her excitement curbed some of my anxiety. </div>
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Of course, I mourned as well. Sadness over not having my sweet leader boy here with us all day. But I knew he would be having fun and thriving! </div>
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On his first day, we took him to school and then he rode the bus home. Then after that day he would ride to school as well. I asked the grands to come celebrate his first day! </div>
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Here comes the bus! </div>
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The crowd of supporters!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR7XcmpwPlbxzXo5lUzMroo6MTs4_e3r6Z2_q68qhDqwQ90QMS_dXjglndKMd4wEh4LL2UxR59aWSGWYv6CERctb4gwtLCZ0I3kLueYI3dZatCqaJFmLUH6rJ84OzFPXgtYy0GIyxWT-oI/s1600/the+crowd+of+supporters%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR7XcmpwPlbxzXo5lUzMroo6MTs4_e3r6Z2_q68qhDqwQ90QMS_dXjglndKMd4wEh4LL2UxR59aWSGWYv6CERctb4gwtLCZ0I3kLueYI3dZatCqaJFmLUH6rJ84OzFPXgtYy0GIyxWT-oI/s320/the+crowd+of+supporters%2521.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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He is so happy!<br />
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Mrs. Christine, our precious neighbor.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVcb4PaPx48IEdNmeA56QlJfiAu45ti-f9ITogU-tCkEvFwZ5hkJY4m6vJKBMLOSqCn4Ytg1LKmrV_Oj-QfqYbagNysFxYC4zbZF8cINnc6NdXPYJwgz4z9wtL1mG_ermGcs9YX0NVuXb/s1600/Our+sweet+neighbor%252C+Mrs.+Christine%252C+came+by+to+give+the+big+boy+a+hug.++Still+praying+for+remission+for+her%2521%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVcb4PaPx48IEdNmeA56QlJfiAu45ti-f9ITogU-tCkEvFwZ5hkJY4m6vJKBMLOSqCn4Ytg1LKmrV_Oj-QfqYbagNysFxYC4zbZF8cINnc6NdXPYJwgz4z9wtL1mG_ermGcs9YX0NVuXb/s320/Our+sweet+neighbor%252C+Mrs.+Christine%252C+came+by+to+give+the+big+boy+a+hug.++Still+praying+for+remission+for+her%2521%2521.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Nana!<br />
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Vita!<br />
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My big boy!<br />
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I will say that the second day was harder on me than the first, but we got through. And now I simply adore 3:35 every day! That's when he comes home. Of course, he is doing so well and his teacher has had nothing but good things to say. I am also so proud of him! He was able to stand up and "do what's right" without me being there! While on the playground his fourth day, he realized some of the other boys were playing a game of "hurt the girls" and he told them (what he has heard from infancy) "God made you strong to protect girls, not hurt them" and they told him "whatever, we will do what we want." So Jorge went to the teacher and told her! My good little "tattle teller!" Ha! The best time to "tattle" is when someone is going to get hurt if you don't. That event was such a great conversation starter for us (as well as him telling me that one of the boys later sang a song titled "women's boobies, women's boobies" I was <i>extremely</i> thankful for that conversation as well). </div>
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I am hoping that given a couple of years, I can return to homeschool. It will continue to be, as it always has been, a year by year review. </div>
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I really appreciate all the support we have gotten. As I know this issue is very controversial to many. To us, we are celebrating this season and know that God is in control of ALL. Praising God that after all these years He is still faithful to teach me and stretch me in the places I tend to think "I'm okay here." </div>
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Part TWO of this series is linked here: <a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2012/12/my-exercise-in-transparency.html" target="_blank">My exercise in transparency. </a></div>
Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-34280893241751618382012-11-12T16:32:00.001-05:002012-11-12T17:46:21.003-05:00I"m only HALF crazy! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, I did it. I ran my first half marathon!! And what a fun weekend it was. </div>
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I handed off the kiddos, on Friday, in two different locations (younger two to Tuscaloosa with my younger sister Rachel and the older two with my OLDER sister, Mishka in Montgomery). </div>
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Then, me and the hubs were Pensacola bound!! And an added bonus: our friends Kristen and Jesse were there too! Kristen is "full crazy" because she was running her first FULL marathon. Wow! </div>
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So we arrived Friday night and connected with Jesse and Kristen and ate dinner at Pegleg Pete's. Being sure to start my weekend of "carb loading" (yes, I know it's only for the night before a race and not two days out) I chose to eat this: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtoie4I_-8NKFqDqKlJhyRGgWngtbWfHMyjVZaLOKhjoThE61FpeuDqzQM4Pov8yFXZKzUOnhEjbn6ah0_1ZSKPSP46VSjktCurK7wTIaaD3Rkegwv0uCV17dmyAwDajP5E-vr4d2QNU_N/s1600/IMAG2300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtoie4I_-8NKFqDqKlJhyRGgWngtbWfHMyjVZaLOKhjoThE61FpeuDqzQM4Pov8yFXZKzUOnhEjbn6ah0_1ZSKPSP46VSjktCurK7wTIaaD3Rkegwv0uCV17dmyAwDajP5E-vr4d2QNU_N/s320/IMAG2300.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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the grouper sandwich! </div>
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And then we went to get coffee and chat!! </div>
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The next morning I awoke to this view from our hotel room: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fNq_A8IuCbYnzOJqBuHa7PE24aUoW3X0r8KF133JcVKnKV4iCuy7NLDoFnyN9BfhR_Tya8hPud1rVkSWO0idBXlZl4KdV6zRXAWss7kGvaTcCNAawgDrlATriZeeuDusbuA33jnLpGFK/s1600/189772_10151245186737943_951205155_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fNq_A8IuCbYnzOJqBuHa7PE24aUoW3X0r8KF133JcVKnKV4iCuy7NLDoFnyN9BfhR_Tya8hPud1rVkSWO0idBXlZl4KdV6zRXAWss7kGvaTcCNAawgDrlATriZeeuDusbuA33jnLpGFK/s320/189772_10151245186737943_951205155_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Then we did a laid back 2 mile run to loosen up the legs for Sunday. And then we went to breakfast. Y'all, only a picture will do justice to show what I ate. </div>
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I eat the same, if not more, than a grown man. I said I wouldn't eat the pancake but I ended up eating half. Again, carb loading. Right? </div>
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Then we went to pick up our packets.. and drive the course. </div>
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*It should be noted that everyone was fine driving the course, until we veered off to follow the marathon route. Everyone kept commenting on how boring it was to drive this route. LOL. And poor Kristen was the only one "manning up" to run it. 26.2 miles is a loooong run. (like I said, I'm only half crazy.. at this point). </div>
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So then Jorge and I headed back over to the beach to get the necessary beach pics: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapa0i4etiUtIZhP0jUV3uxKY3vUsp6xHicgWp6OLgb89FlDzfzFQ9g0wEq6-bz16Ov26lJXxT7xVG1ataARH7DFSdDMv-eim62zUWRE5smQVX90xsNWkxWqyEofumprW2_qmMDpFa3_H4/s1600/535586_10151233820289757_153068754_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapa0i4etiUtIZhP0jUV3uxKY3vUsp6xHicgWp6OLgb89FlDzfzFQ9g0wEq6-bz16Ov26lJXxT7xVG1ataARH7DFSdDMv-eim62zUWRE5smQVX90xsNWkxWqyEofumprW2_qmMDpFa3_H4/s320/535586_10151233820289757_153068754_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2GR1UmOxVnvdloBYJemhPbmAhxj6EpDqKEGXVTd4asGyCyyJbvZu3RVnD3bjtJ13m1u2BU0Ar1kol1HEcuhtRHoegEeEZLfvewGXgCGmBqP6RVWpjkwsYwYy1kK_5YFgr-WekQuZ7FUB/s1600/178265_10151245840317943_2101368348_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2GR1UmOxVnvdloBYJemhPbmAhxj6EpDqKEGXVTd4asGyCyyJbvZu3RVnD3bjtJ13m1u2BU0Ar1kol1HEcuhtRHoegEeEZLfvewGXgCGmBqP6RVWpjkwsYwYy1kK_5YFgr-WekQuZ7FUB/s320/178265_10151245840317943_2101368348_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ahh.. it was refreshing. I loved being able to just have some "us" time. Then we headed back to Mollie's house (who was hosting us Saturday night) in time for some yummy pasta (more carbs, YAY) and unfortunately, a terrible Alabama football game. <br />
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Then it was time for an early bedtime and an earlier wake up call. It was 4:30 when my alarm went off letting me know it was time to stuff my face with a cream cheese bagel sitting beside my bed. Then roll over and try to go back to sleep. The final alarm going off was at 5:10. Time to get ready. <br />
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Much to my chagrin, we arrived by 5:45 and in time to use one of these:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePZQriuUd3FIXjbfSGcAw5Dzz_1FL1pejeFN9nDxSgqiYsCxGv3aJPCTjisqcpINxdQH2wn6DRVJ6qXHmZsGgYQWFo10hdwbiu0lC-2Ce5PJXbdmbFJ1xmQbHOvqYWPYtF5FG-U-191dW/s1600/664898_10151246389372943_472196786_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePZQriuUd3FIXjbfSGcAw5Dzz_1FL1pejeFN9nDxSgqiYsCxGv3aJPCTjisqcpINxdQH2wn6DRVJ6qXHmZsGgYQWFo10hdwbiu0lC-2Ce5PJXbdmbFJ1xmQbHOvqYWPYtF5FG-U-191dW/s320/664898_10151246389372943_472196786_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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(thank you hubby for yelling "GOOD LUCK, BABE" for everyone to hear). </div>
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Then it was time to go stand in line and wait: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8jnRUGRspOP9BQt29-RnHp4qZUJh_1LFCopWNFpIYQx1Nw34TuDQWkMcOfPYFSsTVPMnxNT0th2ya7t_utrIklZ9HvOAdc6ebcFING9h8OYljxwl1zhzjiyUbQ9xnVNEYUAxBoeGFPIN/s1600/169977_10151246388917943_457459194_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8jnRUGRspOP9BQt29-RnHp4qZUJh_1LFCopWNFpIYQx1Nw34TuDQWkMcOfPYFSsTVPMnxNT0th2ya7t_utrIklZ9HvOAdc6ebcFING9h8OYljxwl1zhzjiyUbQ9xnVNEYUAxBoeGFPIN/s320/169977_10151246388917943_457459194_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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(it was a wee bit chilly, even for Pcola) </div>
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(it got a bit more bearable and then it was racing time)</div>
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And then off we went. Me for the 13.1 and Kristen for the 26.2!! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlElDanLU3FOTLVB1ur3aM1N7cC3qv0AFoWsKPcVKF5ZHUarYalyxEPOxJUsno8BYGwnAFjHuFqAqfZOToTV7s66LPdAFRColbK_b-TRNYjM1LFYjL4r52WcPf3N4kzQSihS4QgSA9JLd/s1600/539761_10151246429307943_1307422381_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlElDanLU3FOTLVB1ur3aM1N7cC3qv0AFoWsKPcVKF5ZHUarYalyxEPOxJUsno8BYGwnAFjHuFqAqfZOToTV7s66LPdAFRColbK_b-TRNYjM1LFYjL4r52WcPf3N4kzQSihS4QgSA9JLd/s320/539761_10151246429307943_1307422381_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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(in the second mile.. still smiling..)</div>
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And then I did it!! I finished. 13.1 in 2:02. I'll admit it. I was really hoping that I'd finish in under two hours but when I hit a wall at the 10 mile mark (my foot was hurting..among other things) I was just so glad that I finished. When I ran my 10k last weekend I was on pace to finish in under 2 but like I said, I slowed down at the end and couldn't get it back. But needless to say, I have no regrets! Just another reason to train harder! </div>
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I also had a nasty chaffing spot under my arm so I had the pleasure of getting that "taken care of": </div>
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And you better believe I took advantage of the free massages: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuThFK9723fQXsG3R30D-WjU6fbv63-1TzQBAptP29JGnElg4asvvFO6tSwzlXRLpJ6WkLUgaHppkf_-s6b3F143MPfhQkOfZEsVB0tiU0W1U0bIKrjtn6J1hx9iALQmXWyzO0zxC8-M_/s1600/182012_10151246630387943_91420448_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuThFK9723fQXsG3R30D-WjU6fbv63-1TzQBAptP29JGnElg4asvvFO6tSwzlXRLpJ6WkLUgaHppkf_-s6b3F143MPfhQkOfZEsVB0tiU0W1U0bIKrjtn6J1hx9iALQmXWyzO0zxC8-M_/s320/182012_10151246630387943_91420448_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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And My gal Kristen wanted to finish her first marathon in under 4 hours. And that girl finished in 3:57!!! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgei8JxZRfZeSBzrDzonFf96ZUWMAZXwXcnuCXkQov6QbBvPYOsuTer8nNp64gA3FrlYv-aGUs9eoBHFv0uQOC_1KvzytiAg8_V5pJBCgh23jrOoU6nADnErJztPtHyi3s138pEcohVtYjE/s1600/3485_10151235488089757_697905120_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgei8JxZRfZeSBzrDzonFf96ZUWMAZXwXcnuCXkQov6QbBvPYOsuTer8nNp64gA3FrlYv-aGUs9eoBHFv0uQOC_1KvzytiAg8_V5pJBCgh23jrOoU6nADnErJztPtHyi3s138pEcohVtYjE/s320/3485_10151235488089757_697905120_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I have to say: this was an insanely fun weekend! A getaway with my hubs, a run with a sweet friend and lots of CARBS!!!<br />
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Lets not talk about how sore I was for the first 24 hours. And that I am totally gonna run another half soon! I got two minutes I need to beat!!<br />
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A special thanks again to my awesome hubby for so proudly supporting me and telling me over and over how proud he was of me. For my sisters, Mishka and Rachel for braving children and loosing sanity so that we could go. To Mollie for hosting us and making us laugh. And to Kristen for being an amazing coach and running partner (and friend)!! And Jesse for showing us how to run with a jacket!!<br />
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Now I am asking myself the obvious next question:<br />
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Who knows. I have no plans at the moment. <br />
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Any races y'all are running?<br />
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<br />Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-62964680498955570182012-11-01T16:22:00.005-04:002012-11-01T21:51:11.994-04:00Random thoughts..<br />
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1. Cooler weather secures my spending ways as I will gladly keep buying new bags of socks to replace the ones I refuse to look for. Four kids and missing socks= insanity. <br />
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2. You may call me a feminist if your definition is "one who looks on the division of labor in the home as 'see a need, fill a need- regardless of your anatomy.'" <br />
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3. I am evermore convinced that there is no such thing as "getting caught up on laundry." We are all "behind" at least 4-10 loads at any given point in time.<br />
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4. You are not classified as a "mexican restaurant" if I ask you for cilantro for my taco's and you say you don't have any. <br />
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5. I can see that a big cause for so much tension among Christians is because some seem to take some issues way more seriously than others'. And feel that those "others" need to feel the same way as they do. Creates a terrible outcome over and over again.<br />
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6. The GNO (girls night out) is not about "getting away to refresh my spirit so that I can come home more calm, relaxed and ready to lovingly approach my children." No, the GNO is solely to keep me from snapping on my children or as my sister M said "one more step away from the looney bin." It does not, I repeat, does not mean I will come back a different person than when I left, it means I will delay the evolving into the monster I don't want to become if I were to stay. <br />
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7. I hate that counting calories doesn't work like rollover minutes: the ones I didn't consume today can be used tomorrow. Especially since I plan on not working out AND eating a ginormous cheeseburger. <br />
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8. My kids made a song about butts being on fire. I am trying to remember that they will embarrass their own children one day. <i>THEN</i> it will be cute.<br />
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9. Will it be awkward when I get to heaven and see some of my legalist brothers and sisters in Christ eating dinner with people they <i>NEVER</i> thought would "make it?"<br />
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10. I think I may lose more friends over my support for Rachel Held Evans than my participation in Halloween. Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-80296901996837824572012-10-12T17:24:00.001-04:002012-10-12T17:24:59.931-04:00We like to think we are WILD! So my hubby signed us up for the Warrior Dash. We ran it. It was muddy. It was cold. And it was completely <i>AWESOME!</i><br />
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Here we are just starting out.. a mile in, is my guess. We were still dry. </div>
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We are no longer dry. Just had to swim through that creek behind us, walk across the platform and jump back in and swim to the bank. It was cold. </div>
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Did I mention there was fire? It was awesome. Although, I didn't realize there was a camera. </div>
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My husband, on the other hand, performed nicely for the camera. I love that man. And his amazing legs. </div>
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And to finish we had to swim under barbwire through a pool of mud water. Here we are about to cross the finish line. 3.1 miles of pure fun (and insanely steep muddy hills). </div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
I highly recommend finding a<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><a href="http://www.warriordash.com/" target="_blank"> race near you.</a> </span>I was very thankful that my sweet husband decided to race "with"me because he surely could have finished at least 5 minutes before the time we had. But even with our slower race time (hello 10 obstacles), we finished in the top 21% out of 4800 racers for the day. </blockquote>
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Pure awesome!<br />
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Next up for me: my Half-marathon race in Pensecola on November 11th! I am super excited!! 13.1 miles.. here I come!<br />
Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-56052143053893572232012-09-04T18:10:00.001-04:002012-09-04T18:17:31.832-04:00My parenting book: "Im just as messed up as you." <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VJnivd4s6wVoBmqUJQHog729Y4I46zrChQSgJmHez1F8JAyoAixy7OqY8E9MqXudrSO3fr1iIQ2sPFKoqlT6L8o8SKB2y4q5VsoLnHm3Gq7Ff5K_q_5ZrgbyUU_H85ynt_pts8L1aSAv/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VJnivd4s6wVoBmqUJQHog729Y4I46zrChQSgJmHez1F8JAyoAixy7OqY8E9MqXudrSO3fr1iIQ2sPFKoqlT6L8o8SKB2y4q5VsoLnHm3Gq7Ff5K_q_5ZrgbyUU_H85ynt_pts8L1aSAv/s320/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a>Recently, I had a friend ask me for book referrals for parenting books. <br />
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<i>I cringe at the thought. </i><br />
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Oh I know, to some this is a shock. I used to live by making all my opinions known and most of them were well versed in LAW. That means that they generally left you feeling completely lacking. And not because I had arrived as a parent. I just set up this standard that was pretty difficult to reach. For myself included. But that didn't stop me from being a good little pharisee. Because remember, Pharisee's can't see how they themselves don't measure up because they are too busy watching everyone else.. and making the rules. <br />
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So back to cringing. <br />
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Of course I haven't read any books recently on parenting. And I haven't read any in the past that I would EVER recommend. Also, this is a HUGE trigger for me. Anything with my parenting, in the past, caused me to feel humiliated. Inadequate. Depressed. <br />
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And then God transformed my life with something called: <b>HIS GRACE. </b><br />
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Not just in the area of my own walk with Him. But in my understanding of control. And how little I actually have. Especially as it relates to the choices of my children. Even the young ones. <br />
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So with this in mind, I desire to send out some encouragement to you moms out there in the blogosphere. Step right up and gawk at the ridiculous transparency that I will try to use to help you feel less awkward, humiliated, inadequate and depressed. Because the title of my parenting book, should I ever write one, would be titled: "Parenting 101: I'm just as messed up as you are." <br />
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So take a deep breath and read along to the "how to's" of my *new and improved* parenting philosophy. (SPOILER: if you are hoping for quick anecdotes on behavioral issues.. that is NOT this post).<br />
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<b><u>1. Face it: your kids are maniacs. </u></b><br />
For the first five years of my parenting journey I was angry. ALL the time. When my kids spilled something, it made me mad. When my kids fought, I got mad. When my kids smeared poop on every flipping surface, I got mad. When they looked right in my eyes and told me, "NO!!!!", I got mad. When my kids threw a tantrum in the middle of the grocery store, I got mad. You get the point. There was not much that they could do that would actually make me happy. In fact, I think I vaguely remember a blog post in which I told everyone to go look at pics of their kids to remind them how much they truly do love their kids. Craziness. Here is what I thought those first five years: "These kids are not supposed to be like this. They are supposed to be polite and not wopp each other on the head. They are not supposed to be rough. They are supposed to be quiet and talk only when appropriate. Why do they have to be crazy?"<br />
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Ya see, I had this idea that if I told them something one time, they should do it (or vice versa). I didn't realize that I am dealing with four INDIVIDUALS with INDIVIDUAL WILLS. They make their own choices and it isn't a reflection on my parenting. I was angry all the time because I thought that their behavior was ALWAYS a direct result of somewhere I was lacking. Or slacking. And heaven forbid I actually take into consideration the ages and emotional maturity of each of my children before I go expecting <strike>perfection </strike>major leaps in one single bound.<br />
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Let me sum it up. All kids will do everything at least once. NEVER say, "my kids would never." That pretty much guarantees it will be done and with incredible execution. Your kids are doing what kids do: act a fool. And our job isn't to make them good, sit still, stop talking and generally just sit there looking like dolls (although, I do try). No, our goal is to help them see that their choices have certain consequences. And that no matter what they do, they are deeply loved. To their core. Because that's how God loves. And that's our goal. To learn how to accept that from God ourselves and give that gift to our children. Therefore my biggest fear in life isn't about how my children behave in life.. it's whether they reject God's GRACE and LOVE for their own life.<br />
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Well, you do have the job of keeping them from hurting themselves long enough to reach an age where it sinks in.<br />
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<b><u>2. God LOVES you..even when <i>you</i> throw a tantrum. </u></b><br />
This is the continuation of #1. When you understand that you yourself are broken and make foolish choices (umm.. don't ask me about how much I yell) and then you consider how much you are LOVED, it changes your approach to parenting. No longer am I hell bent on making them good. Well because, honestly, I'm not that good myself. I am the genius that does the classic, "STOP YELLING AT EACH OTHER AND CALLING EACH OTHER NAMES.. (<i>muffled</i>...you terrible brats...<i>muffled</i>...)." Yeah. Exactly. I have now become the "do as I say, not as I do" idiot. But if I can recognize that I fail, and often, and tell that to my children.. they get to see the example of forgiveness and God's love. He loves even me. <br />
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Bottom line: once that message sinks in.. it starts to seep through to your kids, and to other's in your life. You start to realize that we are all pretty much the same: broken people with a desperate need to know the love God has for us. For me, it's finally starting to sink in that my children and I are on the same "playing field." I just happen to have more experience with <strike> bad choices</strike> life. Then I am reminded that this is my goal as a parent. To help my children see that they are never beyond the reach of that same GRACE. <br />
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<b><u>3. Comparing kills brain cells. </u></b><br />
If you have an enemy it's definitely in the comparison game. For me it's the mom out in public with her kids. They all seem to be walking quietly alongside their mom. The children talk quietly as they interact with each other. When asked to do something they respond with a quick "yes ma'am." <br />
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Oh yeah.. then I look over at my rugrats and think, "geez, this bunch would NEVER do that." And then the self hatred begins, or WORSE, the angst toward my own children. <br />
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But this scenario could go one of three ways:<br />
1. That mom just used every last vocal cord she has threatening her children, before entering the store, that if they so much as breathe the wrong way they will pay for it once they get home. Oh, and they won't get dinner. <br />
2. Those kids are acting. They know that if they obey long enough to get home they can act a fool and mom will be happy.<br />
3. (and the more likely one). The kids, mom and all the universe are having a good day. Something has clicked and the kids are deciding to live in harmony for five minutes and the mom sees that she doesn't really have to threaten (today). The very same kids may choose to "act a fool" a different day, but we won't see it. And that mom may decide to scream frantically on another shopping day, but alas, we won't see that either.<br />
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Bottom line: If I compare my bad day to every one's good day.. I will certainly be disappointed. The next time you see a mom with all her "ducks in a row" you can say to yourself, "wow.. so that's a good day, huh?" She has not arrived and neither have her children. In fact, she could probably talk your ear off about her own self-hatred. The good news is that comparison can stop with GRACE. And remembering that you have good days too. And as your children get older you get more and more of those successes. So much so, that the fight becomes trying to remember from that whence you came. <br />
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<b><u>4. No one asked your opinion. Even if it's right. </u></b><br />
So now you've had a good day (or more) and you feel validated. Your little parenting belt is getting a good stroke (if you've forgotten #2) and so now you are on to <strike>conquering</strike> helping other moms' kid conundrums. <br />
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But here is the problem. No one has asked you to take on that battle. So instead of heaping grace on a mom, it comes out as judgement. And insanely prideful, even if you don't intend it to. Don't believe me? Ask me how I know. I used to do it to mom's all the time. Here is the conversation low down after a friends child is throwing a fit:<br />
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Friend: Ugh.. I just don't understand what is wrong today. He just isn't grasping that he can't just keep asking me the same thing over and over again.<br />
Me: Yeah.. I know what you mean. Mine do that too (see, I"m off to a good start... )<br />
Friend: I mean, how many times do I have to keep repeating the same thing? (this is meant to be rhetorical, btw). <br />
Me: Yeah.. mine did that and then I started having to say "If you ask me again, I will tell you no and you won't get to play" so that he would learn the consequence of continually asking me when I've given an answer. <br />
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DOH. I just did it. I coached her on parenting and didn't even realize it. She didn't ask me for my answer to the situation. Even if it worked. It doesn't matter. What she could have used was a little bit of GRACE.. not a little bit of instruction. I could have left it at her last response. Let her rest in the tension and then if it felt like the right time I could have said something like, "Ugh. it is really rough some days."<br />
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Now, if she had asked about my stellar parenting ideals, then I have every freedom to share my insights. As long as I can hang on to myself and remember that I have not arrived. And maybe throw in a few example of how I've failed. And often. <br />
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<br />
...to be continued...<br />
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What are your thoughts so far? Do any of these points strike you as urgent?Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-1496066396312196622012-07-28T15:00:00.002-04:002012-07-28T15:00:26.958-04:00An evolution in exercise..This time last year (August, actually) I started a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">"Couch2-5k" training</span></a> program. </span> I had never run farther than my back yard and about died the first time I had to run for one minute.. continuously. <br />
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In fact, I was 15 lbs heavier. So running was difficult for several reasons. I was out of shape and ready to give it a try. <br />
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So by October (2011) I was done with the training and ready to run my first 5k (3.1 miles). Here I am right before the start: </div>
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I made my goal. I finished, and with a pretty good time (31 minutes). </div>
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Unfortunately, I lost all desire to run again. In fact, I lost all desire to do anything. </div>
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So fast forward to February 2012. </div>
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I had had enough. I was ready to get fit. Four kids and lots of excuses later.. I was done. So I started with the<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><a href="http://www.loseit.com/index.jsp?logout" target="_blank"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">"Lose It" app. </span></a> </span>on my phone (and computer). This motivated me to watch what I ate and to actually ENTER in exercises. We renewed our membership to our local YMCA and I was set. </div>
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Starting in May I decided to start training for a triathlon. I didn't have a bike, so I focused on working on learning to swim (at least the proper technique). By July, I was able to swim 2 miles (in 70 minutes). </div>
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Last week I had a new "first." My friend Kristen (who is training for a marathon) asked me to run some 400m sprints with her. Speed drills, she said. Like an idiot, I said yes. While I hated it toward the end, <i>I LOVED</i> it when we finished. I felt great. I didn't feel any faster (haha), but I knew it would help me later. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZQ2J9UiQER2gD6OVjcVaVv2EEHKluEdsu1z9RX8NhIAhR463jRgtM37QJ6esrFI-_0jYAjxJSPj_9xnE8uBS7xnmR2UcgJsLzNRJ_fYPwKBZz1S1RBU_QolcthhVfnQLJ7l5E7yDBkbg/s1600/576042_10151047820419757_927103028_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZQ2J9UiQER2gD6OVjcVaVv2EEHKluEdsu1z9RX8NhIAhR463jRgtM37QJ6esrFI-_0jYAjxJSPj_9xnE8uBS7xnmR2UcgJsLzNRJ_fYPwKBZz1S1RBU_QolcthhVfnQLJ7l5E7yDBkbg/s320/576042_10151047820419757_927103028_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><i>all sweaty after the sprinting. </i></span></div>
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And then today, I ran 6 miles. I know that seems like it's not a lot for some, but for me it's <i>HUGE. </i>Especially when this time last year I could barely run for one minute without needing a breather. Today, I ran for 61 minutes. And then I came home and<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/" target="_blank"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">mapped out</span></a> </span>my next run: <b>8 miles</b>. And even though I know that it will be a killer goal for me, I am super excited to do my best. </div>
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I'll have to keep you posted on the triathlon. The "not having a road bike" is really holding me up. But I will continue my training. And I may actually run a half marathon (13.1 miles) by the end of the year. </div>
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I am just amazed. Not only did I lose weight.. but I can now say that I am "fit." And I feel it. And at 34.. <b><i>I am loving it! </i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjW0LF9sxk7-cSXGTIbJa2W1VVjQ__c30X3qYMoZBYGUaC2tPuF26zUIL_vSG4703g3r-WLwWK3s5vu501cH-W403WNFICQFrYQTPLuvyKVoE6t6HLfJ5ctpAO6UXP5ulOhJKo-4RxPetk/s1600/runcollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjW0LF9sxk7-cSXGTIbJa2W1VVjQ__c30X3qYMoZBYGUaC2tPuF26zUIL_vSG4703g3r-WLwWK3s5vu501cH-W403WNFICQFrYQTPLuvyKVoE6t6HLfJ5ctpAO6UXP5ulOhJKo-4RxPetk/s320/runcollage.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Do you have any fitness goals you are training for? Tell me, so I can get some good ideas! </i></b></div>Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-63430535582090430552012-07-02T17:24:00.001-04:002012-07-02T17:31:49.038-04:00The Food WarsI woke up this morning and opened up Facebook. <br />
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In my news feed were pictures like this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWpP4cJWtVCNcyhhmoRLCJ6-yWklmZHkSL4BloEJg92YEYJiryWd4mmQjy_rPo2mNO-77LhS9AeMcjQImrONlFZ3Np-n7AUYJzvbF6Rm01FFJWz1nIaTPOPz2rhyJ2AoaUQ5pKBLeU3K4B/s1600/images-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWpP4cJWtVCNcyhhmoRLCJ6-yWklmZHkSL4BloEJg92YEYJiryWd4mmQjy_rPo2mNO-77LhS9AeMcjQImrONlFZ3Np-n7AUYJzvbF6Rm01FFJWz1nIaTPOPz2rhyJ2AoaUQ5pKBLeU3K4B/s1600/images-3.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlLft0q0BHmHUkUNowFQZPeyRp4m0HVqwsJu6Skq-iU9mN_RU0_xUxJTqtR9S0H4S_v_3zvU2mEN9tjxSpdvA1D8L61YOShGZU0JsDIlqJqlLGIMXbAx8OSORSZiGCrnaTtfk6lKvSH4K/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlLft0q0BHmHUkUNowFQZPeyRp4m0HVqwsJu6Skq-iU9mN_RU0_xUxJTqtR9S0H4S_v_3zvU2mEN9tjxSpdvA1D8L61YOShGZU0JsDIlqJqlLGIMXbAx8OSORSZiGCrnaTtfk6lKvSH4K/s1600/images-2.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnROgmF-RIIFe0W4rszVHkOMWw_ViT1wR2WTdYJzqimRszA8FadfluHFOcsXpkOzv_2_OM3ooSxn_Ikh5p80z6VvxmIMZab3pckw4MAIWi7GwVk8wl1lEIH0vrJ7ShVLbK8dDjWb3Aflg/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnROgmF-RIIFe0W4rszVHkOMWw_ViT1wR2WTdYJzqimRszA8FadfluHFOcsXpkOzv_2_OM3ooSxn_Ikh5p80z6VvxmIMZab3pckw4MAIWi7GwVk8wl1lEIH0vrJ7ShVLbK8dDjWb3Aflg/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a></div>
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Now there is NOTHING wrong with the food pictured above. In fact, I love it. I've lost a good bit of weight recently (and still losing, at least that's the goal). However, today struck a nerve. <br />
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I realized that, while I do have a few food snob friends that would NEVER admit to eating junk, most people don't post the food that they eat that is junk. <br />
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So I updated my status with: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><b><i>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">You know all those pictures people post of all their healthy foods they are eating? Not that Im against that or anything.. but why not post the junk food too? Lets keep it real for erbody. So, if you eat junk today, will you take a pic and post it?? You can even tag me in it."</span></i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">Here are some of the pics I got (some of these were googled, because I couldn't transfer the actual photos from my phone from texts from friends). </span></span><br />
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This is mine. And my Diet "toxins." </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoqm2m2A-GQvvTJsFpNqkuuCpGlkj-r_NSNDNk7wEOomfl3FYHe37m5NJdnPbixdjatHc75tCnjCbChtJhps5ffqsqGgpO4YyaKe2-GMJ35J6H3zm9z1BaeMvm0WHML8_jEAvpDAn3N9-q/s1600/168871_10150999514949757_2088492511_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoqm2m2A-GQvvTJsFpNqkuuCpGlkj-r_NSNDNk7wEOomfl3FYHe37m5NJdnPbixdjatHc75tCnjCbChtJhps5ffqsqGgpO4YyaKe2-GMJ35J6H3zm9z1BaeMvm0WHML8_jEAvpDAn3N9-q/s320/168871_10150999514949757_2088492511_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSnXTMb7FOttF2eHjF2VYIpRN8hAh34AkGBBMjmz_gauAqffcJQlow2KKW1Q6nuWZ4IZWj7uCFuLuEVAOwBtFphhQeUMz0ydeRe_U2nAFHY9nCSuCuRsCq9bj0hbbAi_iXwiZdlnFO5AU/s1600/293809_10151079138568274_381817014_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSnXTMb7FOttF2eHjF2VYIpRN8hAh34AkGBBMjmz_gauAqffcJQlow2KKW1Q6nuWZ4IZWj7uCFuLuEVAOwBtFphhQeUMz0ydeRe_U2nAFHY9nCSuCuRsCq9bj0hbbAi_iXwiZdlnFO5AU/s320/293809_10151079138568274_381817014_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBx6QdniOUbXEGJCWsmF8-ebhKyQzuLZDP58cMOAtxYxnYutuEI6kIdb65dd2RBy_WD7L09hOtRGlU16bjAxO4kjsR9xNo21ExuW6_sEBOP54hfNOSAMNh5ZeaXgiUmBX7WtrtGlnnQs6Q/s1600/319353_10151019256666520_338714625_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBx6QdniOUbXEGJCWsmF8-ebhKyQzuLZDP58cMOAtxYxnYutuEI6kIdb65dd2RBy_WD7L09hOtRGlU16bjAxO4kjsR9xNo21ExuW6_sEBOP54hfNOSAMNh5ZeaXgiUmBX7WtrtGlnnQs6Q/s320/319353_10151019256666520_338714625_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVIg_khyphenhyphen9q1yNkxnwdz3A79OoRXtj9tjp7ymdSwFb1kZJESLANp0TMAUNhRpxLXbGeJkxdRsfkB9-49xKkm9l-fxgB4DWnrHOMKQXo3F-nRb5W05swBw59ECWiT7hE5WJ5L0tVjdSXLzA/s1600/399547_10150929807507514_654716958_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVIg_khyphenhyphen9q1yNkxnwdz3A79OoRXtj9tjp7ymdSwFb1kZJESLANp0TMAUNhRpxLXbGeJkxdRsfkB9-49xKkm9l-fxgB4DWnrHOMKQXo3F-nRb5W05swBw59ECWiT7hE5WJ5L0tVjdSXLzA/s320/399547_10150929807507514_654716958_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD6rX0OlmxAyUdqgJc-k5YzHB1tYUecp59IaIoFKj97NHeGh-ck5Q5xzgwwJIAzMXhi7cRCAyoLTpEpHyshsHGDU0hi86obEh5778UCs1ocVAjQyu4wvACjceXVdjYImIu4xBE307ySDc-/s1600/545486_10151005325847943_1860912068_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD6rX0OlmxAyUdqgJc-k5YzHB1tYUecp59IaIoFKj97NHeGh-ck5Q5xzgwwJIAzMXhi7cRCAyoLTpEpHyshsHGDU0hi86obEh5778UCs1ocVAjQyu4wvACjceXVdjYImIu4xBE307ySDc-/s320/545486_10151005325847943_1860912068_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuELwiJCfdNkTCC8wZ9-I_0DG5Ei6Th9pFaoWRzkp18poh_Dlv1XBMzDAhkDK0kg1bzxWmLaqfDh2aa_WB4rDQhflA0Q7QsL_uSu50SlhtUyMvxN6wBOL1SpazE5NNvABlDAhdblpJarLS/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuELwiJCfdNkTCC8wZ9-I_0DG5Ei6Th9pFaoWRzkp18poh_Dlv1XBMzDAhkDK0kg1bzxWmLaqfDh2aa_WB4rDQhflA0Q7QsL_uSu50SlhtUyMvxN6wBOL1SpazE5NNvABlDAhdblpJarLS/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgayRtADUAcZghfb72uHg3r8u8jxhivk81eaRciVQqfi1wiMg9q1azr_aQatzxgm6_N0NffAH_zwcIY8qzAGonUUubceTQYjIwJ6MCsw6lEGUNUOc2dYFzvxQeyI5Vzc-De9kjCLXCq_ny_/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgayRtADUAcZghfb72uHg3r8u8jxhivk81eaRciVQqfi1wiMg9q1azr_aQatzxgm6_N0NffAH_zwcIY8qzAGonUUubceTQYjIwJ6MCsw6lEGUNUOc2dYFzvxQeyI5Vzc-De9kjCLXCq_ny_/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6V0RcTNEaVr4KK0FJgWSKd30Haa31fAIvr2gHeN3_2CrFz7e9DQFMu3qzWdh19UNSPyopwOugWEEE06NS43CrplDaP7_07-Rsb8qXeoSh_Mu0b10b4uaZ7ZvA_Wf21MKnPjzISn-awu3/s1600/Unknown-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6V0RcTNEaVr4KK0FJgWSKd30Haa31fAIvr2gHeN3_2CrFz7e9DQFMu3qzWdh19UNSPyopwOugWEEE06NS43CrplDaP7_07-Rsb8qXeoSh_Mu0b10b4uaZ7ZvA_Wf21MKnPjzISn-awu3/s1600/Unknown-1.jpeg" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">My goal was twofold: for people to be able to actually admit that it's okay to be themselves. If you eat healthy all the time, that's great. But if you are like most of the general population, sometimes you enjoy some junk. And there is no shame in that! Then the discussion turned more philosophical (which I truly enjoy). </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>"or post when you don't exercise or you gain weight? Facebook is for the most part just a bragging machine- a way to boost self-esteem and I know I am as guilty as anybody and that is being real" -Melissa</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I think it comes down to the fact that most people don't know how to relate to someone that isn't like them or doesn't do things the way they do. It permeates every part of our lives: parenting, religion, sexual orientation, food, birth, politics.., the list is endless. We have to get to the point where we can find something in common with the person who seems even the most unlike us. And then we won't be so worried about what they do that annoys/angers/shocks us."-me</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>"So this raises several points that I've long observed: (1) People forget facebook really isn't a private medium even with the (ever changing) privacy settings. Anything posted on the internet goes somewhere and is stored on someone else's servers that may or may not forever be secure. (2) For the 'friends' that post aggressively antagonistic comments, you have to wonder if they would say these things to your face in person. If they would, great, I have no problem with them posting it on facebook. If, however, they wouldn't, I think this becomes an example of how folks feel safer in their opinions when the internet provides the facade of anonymity. Ok, I'm going back to eating my junk food now. :)" - Joi</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><a aria-controls="u1zt0g_1" aria-haspopup="true" aria-owns="u1zt0g_1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=601807513" href="https://www.facebook.com/aglaia0" id="js_10" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Joi</a> you are right on both accounts. There seems to be some alternate reality that some live through on facebook. But as most things, I think a lot of it comes back to issues of the heart. When a person feels it's best to persuade someone else to their opinion by being overly critical of that persons opinion. Or showing them how they themselves do it so much better. However, the error began at the thought that you could change someone else's opinion. No matter how much you tell me that fast food is bad for me it will not change my love of it. Now, I am smart enough to realize that if I want to lose weight and get fit.. I have to limit my intake of said food. But at the end of the day you can't change my philosophy: I like junk food. So no matter how many photos of "kale and turnips" someone posts on their facebook page, it won't change how I feel about fast food. Do I know that it's not healthy, or the healthiest, yes. But I am not trying to tell them to stop eating Kale because it has no taste (to me). The bottom line.. rest in the tension that everyone has to walk in their own shoes and trust the Lord with their process. If they want to lose weight, they will likely figure out how to make that happen. But it's about balance. In everything. And sadly, this whole thesis applies to every other topic I listed earlier in this thread. At the end of the day a person wants to be loved no matter the choices they make." -me</span></span></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">I think the point here is to chill out and let people be where they are. And also remember: Social media is not reality. Ever. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">What are your thoughts?? </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span>Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-81923608991623435842012-05-11T17:29:00.002-04:002012-05-11T17:37:46.019-04:00The personalities of my kids observed at the park..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You can tell a lot about a child by observing them at the playground. </div>
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Here is my clan and the pics to show my research: </div>
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Here you have my first born son, Jorge. He will 7 in June and is our natural born <b><i>INTROVERT.</i></b> When he enters any situation he has to assess first. And then he typically decides he would rather play by himself (unless his brother, Alex, is available). He enjoys doing things that could get him hurt. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0PWwEOVpJT3U9irFgqOl7lF1waC9SAnuhRqdzfuRFPSx-HRmSrfaX9UBOhEF50KNWsd7UWxH9ySIvCXMNKsrXrS_9-pa6oVfm4eqZy7B9ibPhfbDyji0-lnhZhJZGyLF6dBMJ63MsBrv/s1600/523825_10150875757874757_504289756_9411598_1774113294_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0PWwEOVpJT3U9irFgqOl7lF1waC9SAnuhRqdzfuRFPSx-HRmSrfaX9UBOhEF50KNWsd7UWxH9ySIvCXMNKsrXrS_9-pa6oVfm4eqZy7B9ibPhfbDyji0-lnhZhJZGyLF6dBMJ63MsBrv/s320/523825_10150875757874757_504289756_9411598_1774113294_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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Here you can observe my second born son, Alex. He is 5. And is our resident <i><b>EXTROVERT.</b></i> Never meets a stranger and typically makes a friend within the first two minutes. He is very good at asking what other kids would like to play and can corral a group to play together (he does have those gorgeous blue eyes). He can also woo any girl no matter the age (as seen below). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintXl3SLSFQX1DQNZKql0L9DmpY4GSV2StflUnyW1wO8RjP-Dfv8ktgykABIaeojcYd37hSfP2c0pLhAg13TQeVz60-vC6yb36wvS0whxzudI-X7nUewuRZowXMbdP5aBindSxE7YOzVcu/s1600/547803_10150875759789757_504289756_9411610_1181943643_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintXl3SLSFQX1DQNZKql0L9DmpY4GSV2StflUnyW1wO8RjP-Dfv8ktgykABIaeojcYd37hSfP2c0pLhAg13TQeVz60-vC6yb36wvS0whxzudI-X7nUewuRZowXMbdP5aBindSxE7YOzVcu/s320/547803_10150875759789757_504289756_9411610_1181943643_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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Here is my baby girl, Eva. She is 3 (will be 4 in August). Because she is the only girl, she does have a bit of firstborn <i><b>INTROVERT</b></i> in her. And she much prefers being "the momma" to the little ones. You can bet that once she has arrived at a park she will have located a "baby" within minutes and will be "helping" him/her as any good mother would. Otherwise, she tends to play in the dirt, by herself. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAf3JwqNmu9Eq_qH4etM4RfRsQWIkD-jxrkfVjykP9phHHvgq2zGagvdDx5c54Bzd0NLz054TEyoi3dZ6mLUX_dwIt-C1Xs0OGttMBKcbxT8wkEn7r-lsyZXiCw-QbW41ibXWOHsmh7Xa/s1600/473171_10150875759074757_504289756_9411606_1050377691_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAf3JwqNmu9Eq_qH4etM4RfRsQWIkD-jxrkfVjykP9phHHvgq2zGagvdDx5c54Bzd0NLz054TEyoi3dZ6mLUX_dwIt-C1Xs0OGttMBKcbxT8wkEn7r-lsyZXiCw-QbW41ibXWOHsmh7Xa/s320/473171_10150875759074757_504289756_9411606_1050377691_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here is the monkey. The "baby" of the family. He turns 2 tomorrow. And it shows. Hard to know for sure, but I am pretty sure he is already an<i><b> EXTROVERT</b></i>. He loves men. He will reach to be picked up by a man <i>WAY </i>before a lady can woo him (unless she has food). He enjoys hitting, laughing and making momma have a heart attack. Not sure what personality trait that is, but I am hoping the hitting stops. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjM2HgsBjLTaYl3NzlADxIYS5prEKZy9a-_D5_XyXg9TlGlrLqdBdUvRX2lfiJt3Sh5d8PYhvh9HP3Co6jDNJ-UKGZ9aMXhy64ITZ4RoBURORb8ubI_qT9qVDDa3hEg94rHMYSOMSfWKt/s1600/540005_10150875757354757_504289756_9411597_350853172_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjM2HgsBjLTaYl3NzlADxIYS5prEKZy9a-_D5_XyXg9TlGlrLqdBdUvRX2lfiJt3Sh5d8PYhvh9HP3Co6jDNJ-UKGZ9aMXhy64ITZ4RoBURORb8ubI_qT9qVDDa3hEg94rHMYSOMSfWKt/s320/540005_10150875757354757_504289756_9411597_350853172_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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I truly have had to chill out with my introvert"ed" children and let them be. I used to think I had to make them like me: "Eva.. why don't you go play with that girl over there?" "Jorge, that boy looks like he'd like to play with you.." But then I realized that <b>1)</b> it NEVER works and<b> 2)</b> they are who they are and that is <strike>so not like me</strike> <i>OK</i>. They <i>are</i> social, and when they are comfortable they will interact as they feel the desire. <br />
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I have truly seen them deepen who they are because I'm not so pushy anymore. I enjoy watching how differently God made my kids and I really do want to learn how to support them better in developing their own personalities. <br />
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:-)Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-28234170268971197392012-05-08T07:18:00.000-04:002012-05-08T14:36:49.074-04:00My life is a mess. And in 10 easy steps, yours can be too.First, you must read<a href="http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/11/01/give.up.perfection/index.html" target="_blank"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">this article out recently from CNN</span></a> (CNN? <i>I know, right?</i>).<br />
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I understand that with a title like the one for this post, it can be hard to see that I am actually being truthful and facetious at the same time.<br />
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It's so very true that we all struggle at some level with wanting to be approved by others at one point or another. But what we most want, and are drawn to, is the person that is aware of their "mess" or that life is messy, and is vulnerable with it. Nay, okay with it.<br />
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So I was thinking about my life over the last year and a half and what has changed since then. How is it that I am comfortable admitting that my life doesn't look like a page from Pinterest? Nor are my children little well behaved love junkies. How can I now be comfortable spewing my "vulnerabilities" all over the world wide web? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWs6frQN2tmbYqkRlQ57WYbYX65x29gGtqYjbDXZ_xKM52Pg6GdUkATc-VF_kkzqNcZeyGAAj06rnvsci9MvXP2pzf8v7k6JkfN3pB8_8i1pvz4eJUFhaIlHRExlOx_S2bXtQS6uVOa-zm/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWs6frQN2tmbYqkRlQ57WYbYX65x29gGtqYjbDXZ_xKM52Pg6GdUkATc-VF_kkzqNcZeyGAAj06rnvsci9MvXP2pzf8v7k6JkfN3pB8_8i1pvz4eJUFhaIlHRExlOx_S2bXtQS6uVOa-zm/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Because the people pleasing, performance treadmill makes me<b> <i>nauseous. </i></b></span><br />
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So for those wanting the freedom that comes from a life of mess.. let me share my how to list. <br />
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1. Realize that the person sitting next to you at that play date, church pew, or in that office space does <b><i>NOT</i></b> have it together. At all.<br />
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2. Understand that the person sharing their hurts with you would actually love for you to share some of yours instead of trying to fix theirs.<br />
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3. Being vulnerable is scary stuff. It's never fun to go first. Unless you get to the point where you see the strength and courage in it. <br />
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4. People who say they want <i>"real friendships"</i> and <i>"real realness"</i> (whatever that means) rarely know how painful it can be. Therefore they can bolt quickly.<br />
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5. You are not <i>"too much to handle."</i> It's just that the other person can't admit their own mess, much less support you in yours. <br />
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6. Being brutally honest with others is much easier than being brutally honest with yourself. But it has to start with you. Otherwise its called fake (aka as false humility). <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyCcFf2xQKTOrMSV84bp8_HINTN9u5i1A_JtarYpxpyI8YgxgS-O8frQSmsr1DwNTsVxcqTU_-eCaE0c2wGuGty36IeW39HFlF1UcDREhn41svH8nHiH4B9uRnZ9sDW-ooeOfTw0RubJc/s1600/images-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyCcFf2xQKTOrMSV84bp8_HINTN9u5i1A_JtarYpxpyI8YgxgS-O8frQSmsr1DwNTsVxcqTU_-eCaE0c2wGuGty36IeW39HFlF1UcDREhn41svH8nHiH4B9uRnZ9sDW-ooeOfTw0RubJc/s1600/images-3.jpeg" /></a></div>
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7. Put yourself in situations where you get really uncomfortable with what it would take to be honest about how you feel, think or want to act, and then realize that the other people in the room feel the exact same way about their fears as well. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIb9-wYwjRIzWGPEMBt6lKNU4TPS07qNLcGay1lEx5pMc30dtCYFJms2xH5e53LbZ-OUcmiZvp-UXgf-Fi3N35dXeHP4VBoDVfKeq4hPBHs1TAWL2AQONWsgVKDdtgwG1Bo6C6pp6J46l/s1600/images-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIb9-wYwjRIzWGPEMBt6lKNU4TPS07qNLcGay1lEx5pMc30dtCYFJms2xH5e53LbZ-OUcmiZvp-UXgf-Fi3N35dXeHP4VBoDVfKeq4hPBHs1TAWL2AQONWsgVKDdtgwG1Bo6C6pp6J46l/s1600/images-2.jpeg" /></a></div>
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8. Realize that <b><i>NOONE</i></b> lives like Pinterest. That's why everyone likes to go there and daydream. It's fun for a little bit, but it's NOT reality. <br />
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9. Admit that your life is out of your control or unmanageable. Also, acknowledge what your biggest defect of character is. Then tell someone. Do this regularly. Ask God to change it. <br />
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10. Embrace that life is messy. This will free you up from having to feel you have got to have it "all together" or look like others (who don't have it all together). Recognize your own strengths and marvel that all our kids will one day be in therapy. <br />
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I love the point that the author makes in the article I linked to: "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Heroics are often about putting our life on the line. Courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line. If we want to live and love with our whole hearts and engage in the world from a place of worthiness, our first step is practicing the courage it takes to<u> <i>own our stories</i></u> and<i> <u>tell the truth about who we are</u></i>. It doesn't get braver than that."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Amen. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Thoughts? </span>Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-64872153786307952062012-05-07T17:04:00.003-04:002013-06-11T21:43:56.172-04:00My tattoo fallout...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After much thought and consideration.. I got my first tattoo. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7UyT6nKQiyAXVZZ70e3xU1_UAfRwyw53Kf_4KjZueto3rxe6w0iV5igAcc8RcAqzEcM4eaSsBczONv2u1FkdsIi6zWxar2AGj6x2FVm5-nzX_S_N-Bnt2aR1WCgQ3JoULR6kSfZJQG_n/s1600/476093_10150788459879757_504289756_9340531_1638405804_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7UyT6nKQiyAXVZZ70e3xU1_UAfRwyw53Kf_4KjZueto3rxe6w0iV5igAcc8RcAqzEcM4eaSsBczONv2u1FkdsIi6zWxar2AGj6x2FVm5-nzX_S_N-Bnt2aR1WCgQ3JoULR6kSfZJQG_n/s320/476093_10150788459879757_504289756_9340531_1638405804_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">So to answer the first round of questions I have gotten: </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1. <i>Yes,</i> I know this is a FOREVER deal. I kinda took that into consideration when doing my research. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2. I am quite certain that the satisfactory health rating on the wall of the shop I was in made it obvious that I was probably NOT going to get infected with a disease. Oh, and the dude wore gloves. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3. <i>Yes</i>, It hurt like someone was cutting my skin with a knife. Over and over. The wrist: a very sensitive place. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">4. <i>No</i>, I could not think of a more <b>BOLD</b> location than the one I chose. Because the head and neck were out of the question. (although I did tell my brother-in-law that my next tattoo's were either going to be "MS13" on my back or teardrops under my eye). </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5. No, I am not concerned if my children decide they are going to get a tattoo one day. In fact, my biggest fear as a parent isn't that my child will get a tattoo or have a child out of wedlock. My biggest fear is that they will reject Christ. That they will decide that the God we love has been portrayed in a way that makes them unsure of His affections for them and His sacrifice to bring them to Himself. If they do get a tattoo I hope they don't get it while drunk on spring break (not that I hope they have that scenario either). Other than that, I will probably take a picture. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I was very aware the negative <strike>hatred</strike> opinions out there about getting tattoo's. I was prepping myself for the conversations I would have, because lets face it.. I live in the Bible belt. And unfortunately The Church (Universal) hasn't always done a good job of making it more about what Christ has done for us than making sure everyone lives a certain way. Especially, in the South. We are much more image conscious here. We have a zeal, that's for sure, but it can be pretty burdening to others who really want to know if God loves them for them. Not based on what they have done or will do.</span> <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Here is a snippet of something I wrote to a family member about this: </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">"Well I will tell you the other side to getting my tattoo. I am a "recovering legalist." I have, for years, lived in such a way that I thought I could EARN favor with God by how I acted. And I would let everyone else know how they should act too. Thankfully, about 18 months ago God really shook up my world and brought me to a true understanding about what the Gospel is really about. It's about the fact that Christ EARNED not only my righteousness (as if I'd never sinned) but also EARNED God's favor toward me. My standing with God is secure. That doesn't mean that I don't choose to obey.. but I realize that there is no amount of<i> "good behavior" </i>that makes God love me more. And that includes making everything black and white. Christians tend to prohibit what God allows and non Christians tend to allow what God prohibits. Both are equally dangerous.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> (quoting my pastor, Bob Flayhart). </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Two years ago a tattoo was taboo. But not out of a mean heart.. but just not understanding that things that aren't strictly prohibited in the Bible mean it's a matter of choice/freedom to the individual. Instead, of it being about MY OPINION on the matter and everyone should just do that instead.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">So getting the tattoo "Steadfast Love" is based on the bible verse: Lamentations 3:23 "<i>The steadfast love of the Lord endures forever. His mercies are new every morning"</i> Steadfast love: <i>constant, unending, persistent.</i> That's the love of the Father. I don't have to perform to get that love. But having felt that love I do want to please him. But I know now that because of Christ, His affections for me are secure. There is nothing I can do (<i>good</i>) to make God love me more. And nothing I can do (<i>bad</i>) to make God love me less.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Long story. But the truth is, I've been a Christian for 14 years and I am just now understanding a tad bit more of God's love for me. I am thankful for Christ and the freedom I have to get a tattoo (which Paul in the Bible warned us not to use our freedoms to sin.. ie. being harsh to those who don't feel the same freedom or taking part in what he strictly prohibits)."</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><br />
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So, if you are against tattoo's because you just don't like them, fine. But please understand that Leviticus 19:28 is not a mandate against tattoo's. It's a mandate against the worship of Baal. Big difference. I am fine with anyone not liking my tattoo for the tattoo's sake. But it is not a sin to get a tattoo. I'd love to hear your thoughts. <br />
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Do you have a tattoo? Have you gotten heat from it?Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-58665531875568405742012-04-18T13:55:00.008-04:002012-12-12T13:36:48.420-05:00Running funny..<div>
I am reaching new territory in my running "game." Being a little more fit this go around makes running less excruciating, but the fact that I am trying to run farther (<i>and faster)</i> makes it a very hard goal still. So it's time for some<i> motivation. </i></div>
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While I appreciate the serious motivational running quotes..<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhegBzmwqVOPPGfomvZneBDYk-q2ji0DelKqxbQjOJlleHCj2Ey_HSaa9GuFch4QcJyg9Z96iSU7kiQVesB0q_jU4LPG9SWClaVdk7CiXhX9vB_Sw2z5BEsfEUsvHwNayTCd3tgvinHdJPO/s1600/images-5.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732801427137644226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhegBzmwqVOPPGfomvZneBDYk-q2ji0DelKqxbQjOJlleHCj2Ey_HSaa9GuFch4QcJyg9Z96iSU7kiQVesB0q_jU4LPG9SWClaVdk7CiXhX9vB_Sw2z5BEsfEUsvHwNayTCd3tgvinHdJPO/s400/images-5.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 224px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 225px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0B5JqzALTI5fOzNTkgMznvMxbgq4pv81dBWBGgtcnqFoHyw3WglUtyEIiXDo0rMc5u-KGsSC3VWICE8TJkDkqfbhqvFRW2XwaUAQEZ7tQE4p_LReqKB8llSg6kzuxKhsiMdhLQuXMfsMY/s1600/images-4.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732801422242773922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0B5JqzALTI5fOzNTkgMznvMxbgq4pv81dBWBGgtcnqFoHyw3WglUtyEIiXDo0rMc5u-KGsSC3VWICE8TJkDkqfbhqvFRW2XwaUAQEZ7tQE4p_LReqKB8llSg6kzuxKhsiMdhLQuXMfsMY/s400/images-4.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 259px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 194px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEwAlLiONMiBThCXkhp79MaUi2zessvw3w9S-tT26NO_g0s-Yb0oawCwX-2s_gN9gcLfqlPbMBNTLdhGEBnce0wzC_YxOeSHxkqXeNbT4ZbuhMvqQY5OYgwRsjy5-n0Hv3IGQVRHMlAlk/s1600/images-3.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732801411931629922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEwAlLiONMiBThCXkhp79MaUi2zessvw3w9S-tT26NO_g0s-Yb0oawCwX-2s_gN9gcLfqlPbMBNTLdhGEBnce0wzC_YxOeSHxkqXeNbT4ZbuhMvqQY5OYgwRsjy5-n0Hv3IGQVRHMlAlk/s400/images-3.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 194px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 260px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sAKGIavSos03RQ9Q9lfzsTks3lmyiWCP6eBaEV4_ZXUjR38Aj636-AZKJ9qIjnAio90FmNOs3F81kjGcGsUehCWmCf3rGHvOKTaLG0URDS_F-jL_N5RVa6BoBlrnlM7EQt4SHR16kYh7/s1600/images-2.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732801408370840226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sAKGIavSos03RQ9Q9lfzsTks3lmyiWCP6eBaEV4_ZXUjR38Aj636-AZKJ9qIjnAio90FmNOs3F81kjGcGsUehCWmCf3rGHvOKTaLG0URDS_F-jL_N5RVa6BoBlrnlM7EQt4SHR16kYh7/s400/images-2.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 160px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 192px;" /></a><br />
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I much prefer the funny ones..</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7F_YSSLFyHx7BxC5GKq9n4WaAavJ5yrDah66gbSWugpRv34oedvONepqjT9L9gINwbzJaY_0QZLGNU1dm5lBxkMPmZPDLzJ0Gw8q-YeZjs_mEC27lZkm0TCPYhDEqSMeBct7AVZWINOb/s1600/images-1.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732801725295356626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7F_YSSLFyHx7BxC5GKq9n4WaAavJ5yrDah66gbSWugpRv34oedvONepqjT9L9gINwbzJaY_0QZLGNU1dm5lBxkMPmZPDLzJ0Gw8q-YeZjs_mEC27lZkm0TCPYhDEqSMeBct7AVZWINOb/s400/images-1.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 255px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 198px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivesA7ud4AG1QmXqrm7ukjmdcdg9ptLAko0LtFZzBHICFrjGC0AqRurwTqhfzhbxO-EeecRb53Jd9yFX11_FVNfkxofI_eAXifH5W_upiUKSulLwbjStNNES_1SImoanLt9lNaFf1CAJx2/s1600/images-7.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732804645182553154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivesA7ud4AG1QmXqrm7ukjmdcdg9ptLAko0LtFZzBHICFrjGC0AqRurwTqhfzhbxO-EeecRb53Jd9yFX11_FVNfkxofI_eAXifH5W_upiUKSulLwbjStNNES_1SImoanLt9lNaFf1CAJx2/s400/images-7.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 191px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 264px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUCj69yqtiRrf3M8bmunAGNJeG8OWf-6XlRspWDMCho8G68HMgJSrEBQRipIZwRs14QITnY-F8p9wV2CF2AcuS-xr2d_a4vxLfeMRVUVorv52p1DMBQrxgoDzJM2X8LhMMXvwNHQPjI4RF/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732847883698591346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUCj69yqtiRrf3M8bmunAGNJeG8OWf-6XlRspWDMCho8G68HMgJSrEBQRipIZwRs14QITnY-F8p9wV2CF2AcuS-xr2d_a4vxLfeMRVUVorv52p1DMBQrxgoDzJM2X8LhMMXvwNHQPjI4RF/s400/Unknown.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 188px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 268px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2LReNz3Lb6J3ronMIUTKHtfoUBT_cqD3_ilY8f9OgOUYFmKrGsddSiPdoF6IGxHMgNUBtVvIpuqJrxBqoe0V5zXnkwvZmDsClNmuUJOQ8mGbNxxPZlU0d72BOpO_S3plKP8DV9TWZqL6/s1600/images.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732801727724302642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2LReNz3Lb6J3ronMIUTKHtfoUBT_cqD3_ilY8f9OgOUYFmKrGsddSiPdoF6IGxHMgNUBtVvIpuqJrxBqoe0V5zXnkwvZmDsClNmuUJOQ8mGbNxxPZlU0d72BOpO_S3plKP8DV9TWZqL6/s400/images.jpeg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 194px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 259px;" /></a><br />
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But I have to admit, there is nothing more motivational than being covered in sweat and beating your own personal best. </div>
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Anyone else out there running?? </div>
Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-65717113881945553812012-04-12T16:25:00.002-04:002012-04-12T16:37:35.006-04:00Losing It!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMr5yaqZjG9A0Fszn26GNGWoLs_6gI1JpOknNsQfkmJPzjGaRReItsW50_l87tDQezxuwtRjDqIO8QEtzVkjtx5WKPNIGBpvOA5QzA1AWPJcTpeqvv-F_wP2VtdLfmvNYbG7wSmRW_nqB/s1600/weightloss.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 355px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMr5yaqZjG9A0Fszn26GNGWoLs_6gI1JpOknNsQfkmJPzjGaRReItsW50_l87tDQezxuwtRjDqIO8QEtzVkjtx5WKPNIGBpvOA5QzA1AWPJcTpeqvv-F_wP2VtdLfmvNYbG7wSmRW_nqB/s400/weightloss.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730613141375863058" /></a><br /><div>So the before pic was in November of 2011. The "almost there" was taken today (4/11/12) in my first size SMALL shirt that I've purchased since before the birth of my fourth child almost 2 years ago. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have been working out almost everyday. Eating well and keeping track of it all with the app "Lose It." I love that app. But most of all I love making working out part of my regular life. A "lifestyle" change. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've lost 9.5 lbs (to date) and one pant size. And my current jeans are falling as well. Good progress. </div><div><br /></div><div>But for the record.. all you busy moms out there. I will NOT say how "just getting started is the key." I WILL tell you the things I have skipped out on in order to make this my goal:</div><div><br /></div><div><b>*My routine is shot.</b> I go to the gym in the morning for two hours. 1 1/2 hrs to work out and 30 minutes to shower before I pick up the kids. We get home and do lunch, naps for the younger two and then rush through as much school as possible with my oldest. </div><div><b>*Errands don't happen unless at night. </b> I try not to skip my workouts (Muscle on M-W-F, Spinning/cardio on T-Th) and therefore I don't get to run a lot of errands until when I am most tired..evenings. </div><div><b>*laundry.</b> I haven't given up laundry as much as it's just not always folded. The kids need underwear? they go look in the basket. It's a given. </div><div><b>*My house is not tidy.</b> Not that it ever was. But with us gone in the mornings it's not like we can wreck it any more. But the point is that housework isn't top of list. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Bottomline:<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3366ff;"> I am not superwoman. And I have not managed to "balance" it all. No one can. So please know.. it comes at a sacrifice to something. For a small time. </span></i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>Once I reach my goal I will be able to back off the everyday routine and settle into a 3-4 times a week routine. My hubby knows that this is my goal and he encourages me.. also knowing that some of the things that we are used to as a family (clean underwear in drawers) is something that everyone else pitches in on. </div><div><br /></div><div>And I'm very happy with that. </div>Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-38052672962944828092012-04-05T10:44:00.010-04:002012-04-05T13:00:01.416-04:00Why the GNO and MHD are mandatory..I've written a post before <a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2010/10/guilt-ridden-momma.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3366ff;">explaining the guilt that moms feel</span></a> about taking time for themselves. Whether it's a "Girls Night Out" or a "Mental Health Day," they are both incredibly invaluable. And your whole family will be better if you take part. <div><br /></div><div>But how do you know when it's time? While I advocate setting up a regular time for you to make time for yourself (to be by yourself or with friends).. there are those moments that sneak up on you with such craftiness that it takes every ounce of strength to make it to bed time. </div><div><br /></div><div>For instance, a time when a GNO or MHD may be a matter of supreme urgency is when one, or all, of the examples (listed below) happen in regular succession: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><b>Exhibit A: </b></span></div><div>A child sticks a pencil up their nose.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyd_3tV9_BBfNkfuL6NfdlrgvzmtQlTpEiuIucBCkrtKyfZ-u6jg-TPsGv8OoXiXPG1lu5sSUtWG5vRLLTykJDjZNJ8gm6LScSiu8dit6MiTwoHWe-dXHjnyMi2NjkkwbrQcRoq2mm7ag/s1600/548758_10150712577524757_504289756_9119470_801407424_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyd_3tV9_BBfNkfuL6NfdlrgvzmtQlTpEiuIucBCkrtKyfZ-u6jg-TPsGv8OoXiXPG1lu5sSUtWG5vRLLTykJDjZNJ8gm6LScSiu8dit6MiTwoHWe-dXHjnyMi2NjkkwbrQcRoq2mm7ag/s400/548758_10150712577524757_504289756_9119470_801407424_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727931645592939586" /></a><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><b>Exhibit B:</b></span><br />A child paints their face with.. wait for it... a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333ff;"><b><i>BLUE SHARPIE.</i></b></span><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTktpCsJ00_5N1wZ15JUYR2xaBl6VL_vbf3Kjc9g-L4E7YswKauA1tzKYAHIksbjXw5NaatYofFapMye3J_acHlTXG0c5Ij9ZIBpXRcQL1-9Shs15eHIDRcLvu2fkzpTeV8zoLFOqNXJyO/s1600/548110_10150714741994757_504289756_9125235_955044308_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTktpCsJ00_5N1wZ15JUYR2xaBl6VL_vbf3Kjc9g-L4E7YswKauA1tzKYAHIksbjXw5NaatYofFapMye3J_acHlTXG0c5Ij9ZIBpXRcQL1-9Shs15eHIDRcLvu2fkzpTeV8zoLFOqNXJyO/s400/548110_10150714741994757_504289756_9125235_955044308_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727931990522714322" /></a></div><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;">Exhibit C:</span></b><br />You have cooked every meal for your kids and are only left with this:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7lQp24JjJg1f1nX1njylLDmZOZwIY57qJgJ8RWdhAOzSK3llP8tTIipTlGYuFJRQkUb73VyBl3Nvvj1KlcKM4hLwnhJPVD6Pwr3QcT34wF8BiDdeUaPO-seYgKVEhW0ZGaM04zmiZdTH/s1600/456599_10150714513429757_504289756_9124573_361868092_o.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7lQp24JjJg1f1nX1njylLDmZOZwIY57qJgJ8RWdhAOzSK3llP8tTIipTlGYuFJRQkUb73VyBl3Nvvj1KlcKM4hLwnhJPVD6Pwr3QcT34wF8BiDdeUaPO-seYgKVEhW0ZGaM04zmiZdTH/s400/456599_10150714513429757_504289756_9124573_361868092_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727932456807115058" /></a><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"><b>Exhibit D: </b></span><div>Your two year old puts the coffee in the sugar bin. But alas, <a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2012/04/curse-you-hunger-games.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#cc0000;">it was my fault.</span></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjndG9rudP3iqXHXKy0qoBNif-hvkoyvtCzcgMPnHA9DARQuDRsnZMsGPkoF84DDEOxEX-CrLf8UPB_s3HEYivFh6r9ORKvr0q9SpoqcLia15eSGPx2nCtVs6ayaRWacj3E6XpdJWjD4Qsm/s1600/IMAG1137.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjndG9rudP3iqXHXKy0qoBNif-hvkoyvtCzcgMPnHA9DARQuDRsnZMsGPkoF84DDEOxEX-CrLf8UPB_s3HEYivFh6r9ORKvr0q9SpoqcLia15eSGPx2nCtVs6ayaRWacj3E6XpdJWjD4Qsm/s400/IMAG1137.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727933067691306386" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;">Exhibit E: </span></b><br />You clean your house over and over again.. but at the end of the day it still looks like this:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehLBlKZijOfF0YeHTXzm52DSV7-MaiR1s4VW8r6bWBYCGJ3jvoVkK1umwDlWELXIKU0Zu3knUM37ZOAE9P5BvPh2FkW6zHD7WwIKVpAs9Jk8e2w_1_KQ_U8Y15Igu2ZQ9_tu9BBljJnRv/s1600/464206_10150672906634757_504289756_8981911_1888381748_o.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehLBlKZijOfF0YeHTXzm52DSV7-MaiR1s4VW8r6bWBYCGJ3jvoVkK1umwDlWELXIKU0Zu3knUM37ZOAE9P5BvPh2FkW6zHD7WwIKVpAs9Jk8e2w_1_KQ_U8Y15Igu2ZQ9_tu9BBljJnRv/s400/464206_10150672906634757_504289756_8981911_1888381748_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727934911401888450" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWg5Af213BQxa26OZ_8q26OWYpEErISpHYXkRRDeRPqxZoDeiIIag3egtSPjmVAUL1EGB__aTK8-VeVT0YjcNnIUSyImoUL15SYTT4E5HG6pN2dR_DufXEgn6i6OwDpd4i7SiyhCtOnPYg/s1600/339872_10150403687439757_504289756_8117285_3116621_o.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 226px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWg5Af213BQxa26OZ_8q26OWYpEErISpHYXkRRDeRPqxZoDeiIIag3egtSPjmVAUL1EGB__aTK8-VeVT0YjcNnIUSyImoUL15SYTT4E5HG6pN2dR_DufXEgn6i6OwDpd4i7SiyhCtOnPYg/s400/339872_10150403687439757_504289756_8117285_3116621_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727936543177897506" /></a></div><br /><br />I think you get the point. And I am sure you have many "exhibits" of your own. I just want to encourage you to know that "breaks" are okay to take. In fact, your family will be better for it. Even if your next day is filled with "exhibits" you will have a fresh perspective: like, it's doable without losing your sanity. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-82307195762713822722012-04-03T18:16:00.004-04:002012-04-03T18:25:12.757-04:00Why I love the Ergo!<div>As <a href="http://www.rachelgarcia77.blogspot.com/2011/01/evolution-in-babywearing.html">previously noted</a>, I love baby wearing and here is one more reason why:</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjci5a2tui7GSJ8NSmLqihw5nRuzWSKkKiXk_DIvCeJEAjYiIyluemMFnthga8UB9f-U3LtuyAyU87gfM5Q6VWKUMxdRl2CmC5M9RQZXanF18vb8OE9h57ogca44rRYg5e4vLEnYM7pvXyy/s1600/563244_10150706414174757_504289756_9095372_156336282_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjci5a2tui7GSJ8NSmLqihw5nRuzWSKkKiXk_DIvCeJEAjYiIyluemMFnthga8UB9f-U3LtuyAyU87gfM5Q6VWKUMxdRl2CmC5M9RQZXanF18vb8OE9h57ogca44rRYg5e4vLEnYM7pvXyy/s400/563244_10150706414174757_504289756_9095372_156336282_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727302280488781378" /></a><br /><div>Yes, she was exhausted. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, the Ergo can carry a 3.5 year old. </div><div><br /></div><div>And I love it!! </div><div><br /></div><div>(I will also add that this girl did not feel as heavy as carrying the 23 month old boy just 15 minutes earlier). </div>Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-81763379929254910362012-04-02T13:23:00.002-04:002012-04-02T13:37:08.872-04:00CURSE you "Hunger Games"!<div>Because the "Hunger Game" series is my first time being sucked in to a good book series (<i>I know, I know</i>.. somewhere someone just hissed their vampire teeth at me..) I am on the learning curve about when one should actually read during the day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Say, for instance, if you have small children. One would have to catch on rather quickly that getting sucked into the "arena" is <i><b>NOT</b></i> a good idea when you have, say, <i style="font-weight: bold; ">a toddler </i>and they are awake. </div><div><br /></div><div>Because, when all you can hear is the cry of Katniss for Peeta you may miss out on the eerily silent toddler. And we all know that a silent toddler is way more scary than anything President Snow can throw at you. </div><div><br /></div><div>Take for instance what one might find when they walk into the kitchen, after the toddler walks up to me (obviously engrossed in the third book) with sugar coated hands... </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2YHZaHVKWdTPT6MVF37wdoNJzBuqmZd1EhGgJnxkGkXDKvkCB_hAmglZgqiV5I-UHj_QiZHZN9cjZ69hya9krUgtTKRgpq5PRPiBK7lVDu-cWWPRf3cqqwyhesEjGt8RPr_7tiM6pjdyk/s1600/IMAG1136.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2YHZaHVKWdTPT6MVF37wdoNJzBuqmZd1EhGgJnxkGkXDKvkCB_hAmglZgqiV5I-UHj_QiZHZN9cjZ69hya9krUgtTKRgpq5PRPiBK7lVDu-cWWPRf3cqqwyhesEjGt8RPr_7tiM6pjdyk/s320/IMAG1136.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726855484638361954" /></a>yes.. he certainly did (under all manner of stealth like movements) move the chair up to the counter, and proceed to pour coffee into the sugar bin. And then play around a bit..<br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0f2vOnWG5rh1km4FkAdRzj6tOl2OVC5CFbXFENWiDQ30-TayHKwAkuwoGT083HGWRhnNoJqS2JOR1d1vKBgqA0ZFjWlGG4Hli8aoPQC4tfRChTOR3eeafUke6MsGBXXKvTITTylBRl2ZX/s1600/IMAG1137.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0f2vOnWG5rh1km4FkAdRzj6tOl2OVC5CFbXFENWiDQ30-TayHKwAkuwoGT083HGWRhnNoJqS2JOR1d1vKBgqA0ZFjWlGG4Hli8aoPQC4tfRChTOR3eeafUke6MsGBXXKvTITTylBRl2ZX/s320/IMAG1137.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726855473382343074" /></a></div><div>Notice the nice coffee in the silver sugar bin? </div><div><br /></div><div>Obviously, he did this in defiance of the rations in District 13. </div><div><br /></div><div>And in direct response to my absorption in this series. </div><div><br /></div><div>Serves me right. Lesson learned. </div><div><br /></div><div>Next time, I read when he is safely asleep. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_tfXtxmImaYAGzpcqDI1ucmPCubrHj9WrtLPXxUAPgRrO01NAo9E1wxPNYGJR7keyunEB9dShXsYXvnunay-bgBixf1DPi7sCql5NH1iNcq_XHj6o7P0fXk2U4Rxw7l5JBFw1vnQP2Yb/s1600/IMAG0008.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_tfXtxmImaYAGzpcqDI1ucmPCubrHj9WrtLPXxUAPgRrO01NAo9E1wxPNYGJR7keyunEB9dShXsYXvnunay-bgBixf1DPi7sCql5NH1iNcq_XHj6o7P0fXk2U4Rxw7l5JBFw1vnQP2Yb/s320/IMAG0008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726858677929707186" /></a>Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2173054993762076586.post-21685663374440896422012-03-07T16:42:00.008-05:002012-03-07T16:59:45.617-05:00..but I still don't like "play dates."I truly think I may be the only mom on the planet that doesn't like the "play date." <div><br /></div><div>You know, the "fun" time where (<i>in a perfect world</i>) your kids play happily with your friends' kids so that you can have uninterrupted mommy talk time? </div><div><br /></div><div>Exactly. In a perfect world. Or maybe with kids who are compliant and don't try to use the equipment as a way to cause heart palpitations to their dear old mom. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>((Now before you go all, "well if they were trained..", on me. That applies to your family. Not to mine)). </i></div><div><br /></div><div>Back to what I was saying. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Play dates. I remember the first time I went on a playdate when I had two small kids. Thankfully back then it consisted of destroying my friends house (because it was indoors) but we all pitched in to clean everything up. Granted, I was clued in pretty early that while we (mommy's) could speak as we pleased, we couldn't hear a daggum thing over all the shrills. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fast forward to four kids and, while two are older, I still have two smaller ones that I have to chase around the park. And generally we end up at some darn park without a fence. You know, prison containment for my kids that are not compliant. But most of all it's the fact that I will have 50% that want to wander and explore (again, perfectly fine) except that the other 50% want to stay and do death defying stunts on the playground. So hmmm... which one do I oversee? All the while, the other mom is standing there probably wondering why I'm not talking to her very much. </div><div><br /></div><div><i><b>I can't handle it</b></i>. Oh I can handle my children at a park. I just can't handle the idea that somehow I am supposed to carry on a conversation beyond: "Eva, you fell of the merry go round because you were dangling your, eh hem, booty out in the air," "Isaac, stop trying to eat the bark. BLAH" "Jorge and Alex, stop climbing on the outside of the tube slide. Seriously." </div><div><br /></div><div>So when it's just us. I enjoy it. I know, it makes me anti-social. But I've been told I will enjoy play dates again one day, but that seems absurd to me because by the time that happens I've also heard it's hard to get teenagers to go hop on the playground equipment. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here are some pics of our park day today. (yes, it was not a play date. Even though I invited other mommies to go. No one could come on such late notice). </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiRI2lAsKPuTCWmZyzrtlc2qEYb54yYLPtJZ4sr7n924rCyAkS1Wnel5UlFZoTdC5BLEbyDTya1oQKeRrPGMeVyGTmwpdOUenFHIGKjWP2IB94g_3iBcOJhtEfO61JvGfrea_BMtTtQqzf/s1600/420158_10150658335977943_518167942_9258507_608415646_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiRI2lAsKPuTCWmZyzrtlc2qEYb54yYLPtJZ4sr7n924rCyAkS1Wnel5UlFZoTdC5BLEbyDTya1oQKeRrPGMeVyGTmwpdOUenFHIGKjWP2IB94g_3iBcOJhtEfO61JvGfrea_BMtTtQqzf/s320/420158_10150658335977943_518167942_9258507_608415646_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717276828816514578" /></a><br /><div>Exploring for cool sticks.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSUkI_N1c-ydT2P7n3xaCPxfDohj8Cf3i0M_QpMfxyTu3KEA-yPwFioGuBdwySqJU6eiMRikqjBuVrgXi6Z1QdjKlU57UcxliruJ55GL5t99W14j8cEijwWU3hc7K2QVBWJx9_pIYgmvhL/s1600/421653_10150658316652943_518167942_9258454_619183763_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSUkI_N1c-ydT2P7n3xaCPxfDohj8Cf3i0M_QpMfxyTu3KEA-yPwFioGuBdwySqJU6eiMRikqjBuVrgXi6Z1QdjKlU57UcxliruJ55GL5t99W14j8cEijwWU3hc7K2QVBWJx9_pIYgmvhL/s320/421653_10150658316652943_518167942_9258454_619183763_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717276750688618802" /></a><br /><div>My favorite "equipment" for them to climb on.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlFDBxSIkUq17j8Ha4UVaJGfFMzkwMRyggMS9Qn_FFX33a0geeJA05CH7WQuj2RNUMNdBIKlumHRiGLZRcastTgk00LsKgGYZpWjR3PZBYRBJPwBcGUhUGM3895mMlqZFulokZHpODgIg/s1600/430652_10150658338277943_518167942_9258511_1112923905_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlFDBxSIkUq17j8Ha4UVaJGfFMzkwMRyggMS9Qn_FFX33a0geeJA05CH7WQuj2RNUMNdBIKlumHRiGLZRcastTgk00LsKgGYZpWjR3PZBYRBJPwBcGUhUGM3895mMlqZFulokZHpODgIg/s320/430652_10150658338277943_518167942_9258511_1112923905_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717276691901637682" /></a><br /><div>Their faces seem a bit upset that we aren't eating with friends.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6IMdOPkAisZrCeT5UMfgxG5o3YR1SsMkb6yLyHmYoWx4q-dBTFmdByJaMqB-FfhRLboMny4lliHiZNwCwZjP0SlJQULTI6M7nv8KljVQeseoJ7dmIm3VyJxkB-3OvbiK90RhAxYWvxC3/s1600/423212_10150658331322943_518167942_9258498_353753137_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6IMdOPkAisZrCeT5UMfgxG5o3YR1SsMkb6yLyHmYoWx4q-dBTFmdByJaMqB-FfhRLboMny4lliHiZNwCwZjP0SlJQULTI6M7nv8KljVQeseoJ7dmIm3VyJxkB-3OvbiK90RhAxYWvxC3/s320/423212_10150658331322943_518167942_9258498_353753137_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717276640229200066" /></a></div></div></div><br /><br />What are your thoughts on Play dates? And is it one word or two?Rachel Garcia, CD(DONA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481183994435059363noreply@blogger.com6