<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447</id><updated>2011-07-07T18:24:37.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Six Small Smiles</title><subtitle type='html'>Daily life of a happily married homeschooling mom of six.  Did I mention that we have an autistic child and twin infants?  Life is never dull!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-9188682257424438559</id><published>2009-07-17T21:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T22:04:05.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Me Tarzan, You Momma</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SmFRD-c3jgI/AAAAAAAAACQ/og-_MPsnQxk/s1600-h/Mason+sitting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 86px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SmFRD-c3jgI/AAAAAAAAACQ/og-_MPsnQxk/s320/Mason+sitting.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359654160293137922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This, obviously, is a BOY story.  So, all you moms of boys out there, sit back, laugh, and know you're not alone.  Those of you who don't have your own boys - well, laugh anyway....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mason unloads the dishwasher for me as his chore.  And what a chore.  I know, because I've been doing it for years.  Not that it's hard, just.... boring, repetitive, tedious.... Hey, you're a mom, so you understand.  I'm very grateful for my dishwasher, but I must confess I tend to go brain-dead while emptying this particular machine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also very grateful to have a son who is tall enough and responsible enough to be entrusted with this chore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I was trying to finish up an early prep of dinner while Melanie and Marsha "requested" their lunch, TJ sang at the bar (loudly), and Emma wanted help with Math.  Oh, and Mason was unloading the dishwasher.  You would think he might get lost in that mix, considering that unloading the dishwasher is such a, well, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;background&lt;/span&gt; kind of job.  But, this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; a boy I'm telling you about.  So, it was no surprise that when Mason unloaded the two 1-cup measuring cups, they were immediately turned upside down so they could appropriately tap out a rhythm on my back, with vocal accompaniment, of course.  All the while, Melanie and Marsha are squawking from the living room, TJ is still talking about something in a song he is creating as he goes, and Emma is continuing her math questions.  At this point, I calmly ask Mason to cease and desist from pounding on my back.  He is a boy and didn't quite understand that it was now time to actually put the measuring cups away.  So, he moved over to Emma's back and resumed his rhythm and rhyme.  Emma is, of course, having a hard time ignoring him but does attempt to continue her math discussion.  I finally asked Mason to look at my face; once we had eye contact, I slowly said, "put them away, in the drawer, without further contact with anyone's body."  He was quite willing to obey but obviously had no concept he was being, well, annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the midst of the chaos, my helpful best friend volunteered a title to this blog when she giggled and chirped, "Me Tarzan, You Momma."  I'm pretty sure she was only laughing because her house was quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what?  In the midst of hearing so many moms say they can't wait for school to start, I will be glad for the noise.  I am so blessed by all of my children, especially my very own little drummer boy!  What an adventure they bring to each and every day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-9188682257424438559?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/9188682257424438559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/07/me-tarzan-you-momma.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/9188682257424438559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/9188682257424438559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/07/me-tarzan-you-momma.html' title='Me Tarzan, You Momma'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SmFRD-c3jgI/AAAAAAAAACQ/og-_MPsnQxk/s72-c/Mason+sitting.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-3827321496371322362</id><published>2009-07-15T23:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T23:30:49.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mason and Fertility</title><content type='html'>Mason is a great kid.  He's helpful, polite (mostly), smart, adventurous, kind, tough, gentle (when necessary), and generous to a fault.  He loves to read, play football, build legos, wrestle with his dad or his kid brother - or just about anyone for that matter.  He is a hard worker and already knows what chronic pain is but still smiles every morning when he hobbles into the kitchen for his medicines.  He's great company and at that age where he's becoming aware of the world around him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all kinds of ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.  Mason's ten.  He came into the kitchen while I was rolling sushi and asked, "Mom, was I born because of invitro fertilization?"  Apparently TLC is more educational than I realized.  Can that count as health class?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I picked up my chin, I asked Mason what exactly he understood invitro to be.  He did in fact have a basic understanding of the procedure.  I told him that no, we had not had him through invitro.  That was all I said - after all, I'm in the kitchen rolling sushi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he did tell me that when he grows up he's going to have children through invitro fertilization because the other way is just too germy.  Kids.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can he be ten forever?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-3827321496371322362?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/3827321496371322362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/07/mason-and-fertility.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/3827321496371322362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/3827321496371322362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/07/mason-and-fertility.html' title='Mason and Fertility'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-6607844804123148797</id><published>2009-06-23T17:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T18:02:26.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Future in Finance?</title><content type='html'>I have always been intrigued by how my children handle money.  Mason takes after me - it goes out as quick as it comes in.  Hannah, on the other hand, is definitely her Pop's girl - she keeps every last penny and knows exactly what she has. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Mason and Hannah make an interesting pair.  I knew Mason occasionally borrowed money from Hannah, but that was the extent of my knowledge.  Then, one day in our family wisdom search, we were reading in Proverbs about not lending money at usury.  Hannah's eyebrows furrowed, and she asked her daddy what usury was.  He explained the concept of interest, and Hannah looked heart broken!  Apparently, she had been making a pretty good return on those loans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago, Robert and the kids were at Wal-Mart (yes, again at Wal-Mart).  Mason wanted to borrow a dollar from Hannah for a pack of gum.  Hannah told him that was fine, but he would have to repay a dollar and a quarter.  He got all huffy and reminded her that God didn't like usury..... And Hannah assured him that he need not worry about her immortal soul because she wasn't charging him interest, this was merely a "service fee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not exactly sure where Hannah learned about service fees.... we're an all-cash family.... She never fails to keep us on our toes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-6607844804123148797?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/6607844804123148797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/06/future-in-finance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/6607844804123148797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/6607844804123148797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/06/future-in-finance.html' title='A Future in Finance?'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-5114855265118480489</id><published>2009-04-03T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T19:41:02.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pay It Forward</title><content type='html'>This seems like fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will send a hand made gift to the first three people who leave a comment on this post requesting to join the PIF exchange. All the gifts will be made and sent out sometime soon within the year. How exciting to not know when your surprise package will arrive. What you need to do in return is pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog. This exchange is only open to those with active websites or blogs. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS PROMISE TO POST THIS SAME 'PAY IT FORWARD' MESSAGE ON YOUR BLOG, WHICH MUST BE ACTIVE IN ORDER TO PLAY. YOU WILL PAY IT FORWARD TO THREE PEOPLE WHO COMMENT ON YOUR BLOG. Recap: The first three people who comment, commit to the PIF thing. The gifts are supposed to be hand made. I know a lot of you are probably thinking that you can't get in on it because you aren't "crafty" enough. If you really want in on it but don't find yourself crafty enough, I am sure it would be okay to support someone you know that has a handmade crafty kind of business. Buy a gift from them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And those of you who know me are surely wondering what homemade gift I could possible make...that anyone would want (and no, I'm not giving away children).  You know you're dying to see what I'm going to do, so comment now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-5114855265118480489?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/5114855265118480489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/04/pay-it-forward.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/5114855265118480489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/5114855265118480489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/04/pay-it-forward.html' title='Pay It Forward'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-8490514378354867773</id><published>2009-04-03T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T19:17:49.089-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonders of Autism</title><content type='html'>In honor of Autism Awareness Month, and of Hannah, who is wonderful....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Autism is a scary word for a parent.  No one understands what causes it, and there is no magic cure for it.  All along you've been hoping that maybe this is just a phase.  But now you have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that word&lt;/span&gt;, and it's not a phase... it's forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, I pushed all those tangled emotions aside and started to fight for my child.  It was important to start intervention, and no one knew her potential the way I did.  And to be honest, it was a lot easier to jump in and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; something than to deal with the emotions of forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But eventually, the emotions surface.  For me, it was Sunday morning on the way to church.  I was thinking about Abraham... I had read about him that morning.  And I thought he was pretty cool, because he was willing to give up his son when God asked for him, and I surely wasn't.   What?  As I thought that, I realized that I was fighting with God.  I wouldn't admit that this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; Hannah... this was the best of Hannah, forever.  No words, no relationship.  Not like I wanted, anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in the car on the way to church the emotional and spiritual reality broke to the surface.  Was I willing to give Hannah to God? To trust that whatever he had planned for her was good and right?  Well, I never made it to church that day, not to the building, anyway.  But I did meet God, and I did give him my child.  For whatever he wanted.  And it was the hardest thing I've ever done.  I'm not sure I've ever cried so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hannah was almost four then.  A month later, she used her first spontaneous sign.  I have no idea what any of my other children said first, but I'll never forget that day.... Hannah was watching me cook bacon in the electric skillet when she tugged at my shirt and signed "hot".  Yes, Hannah, it's hot!  Wow! I was so excited!  And from there, Hannah just took off.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching Marsha, our youngest, and wondering.... it's been hard, and scary, all over again.  But this time it's a little easier to hold her up to God and know that He will be faithful again.  Maybe not the way I want.....but, ultimately, the way I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In thinking about Hannah, and wondering about Marsha.... I've concluded that autism is not just a scary thing... it's also a thing of wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are just a few incredible things about my child....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  Has no concept of trying to impress people, so totally doesn't even bother.&lt;br /&gt;9.    Hyperlexia.  I now know what this is because Hannah was reading before she was talking. &lt;br /&gt;Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;8.    Very concrete thinkers.  Makes their relationship with God so very, very special.&lt;br /&gt;7.    Very concrete thinkers.  Don't really get sarcasm, at all.  In fact, Hannah is so literal she      seems sarcastic.&lt;br /&gt;6.    Very visual.  She worked jigsaw puzzles picture-side down when she was five and six.  Now she thinks of words like pieces of a puzzle and memorizes huge amounts of material with very little effort.&lt;br /&gt;5.  Hyperfocusing.  Never have to fight her about completing school work.  Maybe about taking breaks, but never about finishing.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Simple joys.  Like spinning in circles. &lt;br /&gt;3.  Very routine oriented.  This has been good for me as it has forced me to be more organized and structured, and I've been good for her as I've helped her function on a schedule rather than a routine. &lt;br /&gt;2.  Thanks to Hannah, I know more about electricity, baker's yeast, the planets, and pineapples than I would ever have thought possible.&lt;br /&gt;1.  "I love you" means so very, very much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-8490514378354867773?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/8490514378354867773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/04/wonders-of-autism.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/8490514378354867773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/8490514378354867773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/04/wonders-of-autism.html' title='Wonders of Autism'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-3087773298993416277</id><published>2009-04-03T17:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T18:11:00.335-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dinner.... or not</title><content type='html'>I love to cook.  And I must say that I have come a long, long way since high school.  Just ask Amanda... or my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But tonight was a flashback.  I created my own casserole, which would have been good.  If you'd like to try it, here goes:&lt;br /&gt;  chicken (pulled from the bone, not used last night in chicken and dumplings)&lt;br /&gt;  cooked rice (about a cup, whatever you have will work just adjust the rest of the ingredients accordingly)&lt;br /&gt;   frozen chopped brocolli (I used half a bag)&lt;br /&gt;   cream cheese (8 0z, melted and mixed with other ingredients)&lt;br /&gt;   chicken broth (just enough to keep it moist while it baked)&lt;br /&gt;   cheddar cheese, grated&lt;br /&gt;   seasoning of choice, I used a little salt and pepper and a garlic lemon seasoning that I love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mixed everything but the cheddar cheese and packed it into a casserole dish.  If you put it in a smaller container and pack it firmly, it will stay moist and sliceable (is that a word?).  Put on the lid and cook it at 350.  After about thirty minutes, take off the lid, sprinkle with cheese and bake uncovered until cheese is melted and bubbly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the casserole sit for 25 to 30 minutes before cutting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure this would be tasty, but.... I can tell you that FORGETTING that you put the casserole in the oven is not a good idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know that the batteries in my smoke detector need to be replaced.  That's always good to know.  So it wasn't totally wasted, right?  I also know that Hannah really doesn't like the smell of smoke.  No big surprise there.  I also know exactly how long it takes for my husband to drive to the pizza place here in town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, fortunately, I should be safe to cook again tomorrow because at dinner Mason prayed that God would "please let mommy stay being a good cook."  Thanks.... I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you make my casserole before I do, let me know what you think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-3087773298993416277?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/3087773298993416277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/04/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/3087773298993416277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/3087773298993416277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/04/blog-post.html' title='Dinner.... or not'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-8996757666660700174</id><published>2009-04-01T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T17:51:48.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Here!</title><content type='html'>Have you noticed how beautiful babies are?  It's amazing how perfectly formed they are...even their personalities.  Melanie was born with an opinion and a voice.  Marsha was born calm and reserved.  Marsha likes to study things, and she loves to cuddle.  Melanie likes to grab things, and she loves to wiggle.  They both love each other, and I absolutely adore them both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Melanie was chewing her fingers this afternoon when her eyes suddenly rounded, and she emitted a sound somewhere between a shriek and a cry.  She sat there for a minuted, frozen, and then she started to cry.  I scooped Mellie up and gave her a finger to chew on...only to shriek myself when she bit down...with a tooth!  Melanie has her first tooth!  Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, it might seem that six and a half months is not particularly late as far as teeth go, especially for a slightly premature baby...but the rest of my babies (except Marsha, who is still all gums) all had teeth early.  Mason's first two teeth were readily visible in his three month pictures.  I'm pretty sure he was born teething.  Hannah was the slowest teether, and she had her first tooth by five months.  So, six and a half months seemed so long for me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is really sweet about Melanie's tooth, though, is how she responded to our impromptu party.....  She was so excited that I was excited about that tooth!  She has been all grins all afternoon long.  And she is actually opening her mouth for people this evening!  Seriously.... I can say, "show me your tooth" and the jaw drops and juts forward! What a clown!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing to me that so much personality can be packed into a thirteen pound, six month old body!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-8996757666660700174?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/8996757666660700174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/8996757666660700174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/8996757666660700174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-here.html' title='It&apos;s Here!'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-2162692907740363077</id><published>2009-03-23T09:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T10:06:16.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sacrificial Duck</title><content type='html'>Well, here it is, barely 10am, and both TJ and Emma have been sentenced to a nap after lunch (among other things)....all because of the sacrificial duck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emma is not feeling well; she did her schoolwork but then settled into the couch during her normal "outside time". TJ was playing with the twins' teething duck (soft duck, hard extremities) and approached Emma to explain that in "TJ Pretend Land" the duck had died on the cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this would be a good time for a little detour.... Yes, I know TJ was being sacrilegious, but I don't think TJ understood that at all. He was just pretending, and at least he's starting to think about some of the important things about Christianity. When the whole Sacrificial Duck ordeal was over, I did redirect his play efforts toward something more theologically appropriate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to Emma on the couch.... snuggled in covers and watching a Dora math video. As best as I can figure, Emma didn't want to take the time to explain to TJ why pretending the duck had died on the cross was innapropriate. So, to speed up the process, she sat up and punched him in the chest. Then she settled back down on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TJ, of course, was not pleased with the turn in conversation.... So he started wailing on Emma with the duck, hard limbs and all. Pretty soon they were a rolling heep of screaming children on the living room floor. Melanie, by the way, thought this was hysterical from her perch in the swing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could hear the bedlam but was in the middle of changing Marsha's diaper. I rushed the job, wondering how in the world the house had gone from content children taking a school break to what sounded like World War 3, with Melanie's "toe laugh" thrown in for good measure, in less than one diaper change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon entering the living room, I had to stifle a smile. TJ and Emma are best friends, but when they get side-ways with each other...all bets are off. I settled Marsha in the excersaucer, and pulled apart the screeching wrestlers, and suddenly became a referee. The combatants separated to their own corners and explained why the other one was angry with them (I have found that much more effective than asking what the other did wrong). TJ had no idea what had disturbed Emma, which is apparently what had upset him so much. Emma justified it all by explaining that she was just doing her job as a "Christian soldier."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, both children have had some individual lessons with Mom about exactly what Jesus sacrificed for us, and how a duck would just not do, as well as what it means to be a "Christian soldier."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not naptime yet, and Mason needs to move on to history, so I suppose that wraps up this post. I hope our family made you smile.... I'm pretty sure my best friend is still laughing. Being a Mom is such a great adventure :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-2162692907740363077?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/2162692907740363077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/2162692907740363077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/03/sacrificial-duck.html' title='The Sacrificial Duck'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-3948456181579664134</id><published>2009-03-20T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T17:54:59.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little Man...not so little, actually</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/ScQ1ovNnZBI/AAAAAAAAABo/nWPIdvHqmCg/s1600-h/s42527ca109905_16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315432434188641298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/ScQ1ovNnZBI/AAAAAAAAABo/nWPIdvHqmCg/s320/s42527ca109905_16.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mason.... What to say about Mason?  Well, for starters, I'm pretty sure that my Mom was right: God gave us nine year olds so we would still love them when they're fourteen.  I love this age!  He's growing up...laughing at things that are actually funny, caring about things that matter, connecting abstract principles to the happenings of the world around him....  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And such a sense of humor....  We were in Walmart the other day (yes, I realize many of my blogs revolve around Walmart; we're there a LOT).  Someone stopped us and asked how old the babies were; I answered six months.  This lady then asked if they were twins.... I was so shocked that someone could wonder if two babies, both six months old, looking an amazingly lot alike, were twins...all I could think to say was "yes."  As we walked away, Mason elbowed me and announced, "Here's your sign."  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mason has a very tender heart, too.  When he was... oh, I guess about five, Hannah had just been diagnosed with autism the year before.  She was very much lost in herself at that point, but Mason was always very patient with her and loving to her.  I'll never forget turning around one day and realizing I had not seen Mason for a while.... I found him crying in his bed.  When I asked him what was wrong, he just continued to cry in my arms.  Finally he asked me, "Why doesn't Hannah love me?"  A few weeks later he fought with another little boy on a playground because his friend had made fun of Hannah.  This year he went to a nursing home and hit it off with a man who was pretty well lost in dimentia.... all of the other kids were afraid of the fellow.  His leader asked him later how he was so comfortable with the older gentleman, and Mason explained to him that sometimes God makes people different...like Hannah...but He loves them just as much, so Mason would love them, too.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Talk about making a Mom proud.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I probably have more stories about Mason than about any other child....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When he was three, almost four, and we were expecting Emma.... Hannah was still a baby, maybe 8 or 9 months old, when one day I heard over the baby monitor Mason telling Hannah in a very serious voice, "Don't worry Hannah, Mommy and Daddy will find you a good home."  I guess he thought there was just enough room for two, and since &lt;em&gt;he&lt;/em&gt; wasn't going anywhere....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'll share more stories here and there in future posts.... I think you'll come to enjoy Mason in a special way!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-3948456181579664134?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/3948456181579664134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/3948456181579664134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-mannot-so-little-actually.html' title='The Little Man...not so little, actually'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/ScQ1ovNnZBI/AAAAAAAAABo/nWPIdvHqmCg/s72-c/s42527ca109905_16.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-2042279488487189617</id><published>2009-03-20T09:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T13:02:37.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Chickadee</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/ScPz32LHpXI/AAAAAAAAABY/FxRzQLS6hLw/s1600-h/s42527ca109905_26_0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315360125987825010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/ScPz32LHpXI/AAAAAAAAABY/FxRzQLS6hLw/s320/s42527ca109905_26_0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did you know that Chickadees do not fly south for the winter? When the world is cold and the days are short, these little birds tough out the winter and offer cheery little songs through it all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emma is our Chickadee. Our family went through its own winter when Hannah was diagnosed with autism; not long after that, Emma started having seizures. I was also having health problems....Life, in general, was tough. But little Emma was always smiling and ready to laugh. We are so thankful that God sent her to us when he did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lest you think Emma is the perfect child, perhaps I should let you know that she is also our Drama Queen. Everything is...big. The smiles are big, the tears are big. And so is that "brown nose." Anytime someone gets in trouble, Emma is there.... When Thomas is disciplined for lying, Emma will assure me, "Mommy, &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;nevvveeerrr&lt;/em&gt; want to tell a lie." If Hannah lost control and hit someone, Emma will make sure that I know, "Mommy, &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;nevvveeeerrrr&lt;/em&gt; want to hit anyone." I think you get the point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emma and Thomas are fifteen months apart and very close. They have a love-hate relationship, which I suppose is normal for sibblings. Last Christmas, as in 2007, Emma and TJ had... their own personal war. About two weeks before Christmas, Emma snipped TJ's hair with scissors. Now, she knew better than this. We've had...issues...with scissors, and all of the children know that they are not to cut clothing, hair, etc. They also knew that if they &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; cut anyone's hair again, their mommy would shave their head. So, I'm not sure what Emma was thinking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nor am I sure what TJ was thinking when he chose to handle the retribution himself rather than telling his mommy. But that night, sometime around 4, TJ climbed up onto the kitchen counter and retrieved my kitchen scissors from on top of the refrigerator. Then my four-year-old preceded to Emma's bed and began cutting her hair. He cut, and he cut, and he cut. Emma finally woke up when the scissors were pressing against her scalp. She literally had bald spots all over her head, except for the little circle that had been resting on her pillow. TJ was quite thorough; the longest lock was about half an inch long. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up that morning with Emma inches from my face, holding handfuls of blond hair, and crying hysterically. It took me a minute to realize what had happened.... I have never been so upset in my life. For the first time as a parent, I was too angry to discipline my children. I had them sit down against the wall in my bedroom while I calmed down.... Once that wave of fury passed.... I looked over the damage, cleaned up the bedroom (there was hair everywhere - yuck!), and shaved a couple of heads.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emma cried and cried. I shaved her head, but, to be honest, I'm not sur&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/ScP09Xy-WPI/AAAAAAAAABg/ve-qUSvOiKk/s1600-h/IMG_0002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315361320424331506" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/ScP09Xy-WPI/AAAAAAAAABg/ve-qUSvOiKk/s320/IMG_0002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;e I could have done it had there been any other option. Did I mention that Thomas was very, very thorough? I also explained to TJ that as long as Emma had to be embarassed by her haircut, so did he. He was given a reverse mohawk.... My friend Amanda thought that was just awful, but she didn't see the same potential that TJ did. I found him in the bathroom the next day driving Hot Wheels cars down his "road". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Needless to say, TJ and Emma are only allowed to use scissors when I'm watching. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did I tell you that Emma was distraught? The first time we had to go to Walmart, she begged and begged to be left behind...at five. Of course, she had to go in the store. Picture this, bald- headed, chubby cheeked little girl... She had five different old men stop her and tell her she was beautiful. One tried to give her a candy, and one tried to give her money. I finally realized that people thought she was a cancer patient. We were buckling up in the car when our Chickadee chirped, "I don't mind being bald; I'm still &lt;em&gt;beeeauuutiful&lt;/em&gt;." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmmm..... Maybe we need to do a few lessons on the true beauty of character....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-2042279488487189617?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/2042279488487189617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/03/chickadee.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/2042279488487189617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/2042279488487189617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/03/chickadee.html' title='The Chickadee'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/ScPz32LHpXI/AAAAAAAAABY/FxRzQLS6hLw/s72-c/s42527ca109905_26_0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-8698123704361271678</id><published>2009-01-20T08:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T08:32:09.531-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another smile worth knowing....</title><content type='html'>This is my miracle of a daughter.  Hannah was diagnosed with classic nonverbal autism when she was two&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SXX3wD3I7lI/AAAAAAAAABA/3Vbr8EVtyQE/s1600-h/IMG_0099.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293409342086245970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SXX3wD3I7lI/AAAAAAAAABA/3Vbr8EVtyQE/s320/IMG_0099.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.  And when they say nonverbal, they mean nonverbal.  She had never made any noise other than to cry when she was hungry.  She liked cuddling with her father and me, but never looked at our faces and couldn't stand having anyone else even acknowledge her presence.  We were blessed with an early diagnosis and a dream therapist who worked with her and trained us and other therapists in the Verbal Behavior Modification techniques.  Now, at seven, she is different but very functional.  Her diagnosis has been changed to savante autistic because of her IQ and patterning abilities, but we're just glad to &lt;em&gt;know &lt;/em&gt;her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hannah loves her youngest twin sisters, Melanie and Marsha.  Somehow, though, she managed to go for four months without realizing how cloth diapers are cleaned.  One day when I was rinsing a dirty diaper in the toilet (and talking to my best friend Amanda), Hannah sauntered in to request help on her math page.  She stared at me and finally asked what exactly I was doing.  (With quite a bit of disgust in her voice, I might add.)  I told her I was rinsing out the diaper, and she asked why in the world I was doing &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; in &lt;em&gt;there&lt;/em&gt;!?!  I looked up at her (while studiously ignoring Amanda's giggles) and asked her where else I would rinse out a dirty diaper.  She thought for a minute and replied.... "I don't know.... in the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;WASHER&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;?"  I didn't have much to say to that, partly because it was a very logical thought for a seven year old, and partly because Amanda was laughing to loud for me to think of an appropriate reply. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now you know how drole this beautiful child can be.  If you have children of your own, enjoy each and every question they ask, argument they make, and comment they offer.... Their voice is a gift for which we often forget to be thankful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-8698123704361271678?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/8698123704361271678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/01/another-smile-worth-knowing.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/8698123704361271678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/8698123704361271678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2009/01/another-smile-worth-knowing.html' title='Another smile worth knowing....'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SXX3wD3I7lI/AAAAAAAAABA/3Vbr8EVtyQE/s72-c/IMG_0099.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-8001829035375576481</id><published>2008-11-11T13:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T13:53:40.362-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRn9PcC_ByI/AAAAAAAAAA4/Zabq1SCxRs0/s1600-h/Pictures09132008+042.jpg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS';font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;  I love my microwave convection oven.  It was a Christmas present last year, and I firmly believe it to be God's gift to the busy mom.  This amazing appliance is still a microwave, but also an oven.  And best of all, it can combine the two functions and produce food that seems baked but takes half the time.  Hopefully my blog will be like that today... appear well prepared and painstakingly presented but be completed in the three minutes I have before lunch is finished and ready to come out of the oven!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRn9PcC_ByI/AAAAAAAAAA4/Zabq1SCxRs0/s1600-h/Pictures09132008+042.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRn9PcC_ByI/AAAAAAAAAA4/Zabq1SCxRs0/s320/Pictures09132008+042.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267519680855082786" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;  If you have a four year old little boy with a mischevious sparkle in his eye, you know how interesting they can make life.  Even just the things they say.... Our little boy, Thomas, was asking about our plans for later in the week.  I explained to him &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; that we're leaving for the dentist's office at 6:15 in the morning (the appt is 7:20 and we live an hour away... yes, I'm a little crazy; did you forget that I have six children?) where all four of the "big kids" are having their teeth cleaned.  Then we'll be heading back to our town for Emma and the babies to have a visit with the pediatrician (don't even get me started on their office!).  Emma is turning six the next day and is due for some shots; the babies just need another weight check.  Thomas was informed that his role was to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;sit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; quietly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; in the little cell of a room that really isn't made for seven people while the doctor checks out his sisters. Afterwards, we're going home to take a well deserved, however unpopular, nap.  Thomas digested this series of events and looked up at me with those big blue eyes and commented that I'm pretty smart because no matter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; WHAT &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;happens on Thursday (and yes, he emphasized "what") Emma's birthday will seem like a good day after such a "stinky, lousy, horrible day-before Emma's birthday."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;So, you've met Thomas.  If his mouth is open, it's probably not true.  If he's moving, it's either as slow as a snail or as fast as a whirlwind.  If he's awake, he's in trouble or diligently looking for it. He's a sweet child, but he definitely could be used as proof that boys act first and think, maybe, later!  :)  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Come back soon and meet another of our clan.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-8001829035375576481?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/8001829035375576481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-love-my-microwave-convection-oven.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/8001829035375576481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/8001829035375576481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-love-my-microwave-convection-oven.html' title=''/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRn9PcC_ByI/AAAAAAAAAA4/Zabq1SCxRs0/s72-c/Pictures09132008+042.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1747813186579607447.post-131107811340313397</id><published>2008-11-11T05:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T13:21:25.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Day?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRmSCSzMzhI/AAAAAAAAAAw/i7viX7fiPJw/s1600-h/P1090152.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am brand new to this whole blogging thing and am wondering at my sanity as I find myself starting this with eight week old seemingly nocturnal twins.  Please keep my sleeplessness in mind as you notice my... impressive... spelling ability.  When the girls start sleeping through the night we'll blame my fourth grade teacher; I never liked her anyway :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I should start with some introductions.  This actually might take a few posts since we're a family of eight, and I'm pretty popular at breakfast time (which it almost is).  I am a transplanted southern girl who now lives in the high desert of the Southwestern US.  I miss trees.  And the color green.  But I love the sunrises that turn my mountains purple, coral, gold, and copper.  I love to cook, and I enjoy being one of the very few true southern cooks in this area as this makes all those old fashioned recipes seem truly original.  Reading is another favorite pastime and frequently keeps me up late into the night.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; My love of reading is actually what first caught my husband's attention.... We share several favorite authors.  My husband is a hardworking fellow and does not much like idle moments.  Knowing this about him makes the trips to the zoo and the living room wrestling matches very &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRmSCSzMzhI/AAAAAAAAAAw/i7viX7fiPJw/s320/P1090152.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267401807290486290" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt; special indeed.  He is a very involved and loving dad and a terrific husband.  I am very grateful to have a husband who honors me for staying home.... He works a physically demanding job and quite a bit of overtime to allow me to stay home with our family, and yet he treats me like I am giving him the gift in this arrangement.  I am fortunate indeed.  Did I mention he has the most wonderful, infectious laugh in the world?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, the real stars of the show will have to wait for a later curtain call as I am being summoned to the breakfast table.  Thanks for meeting us.... I hope you'll stop by and introduce yourself sometime.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1747813186579607447-131107811340313397?l=sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/feeds/131107811340313397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/131107811340313397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1747813186579607447/posts/default/131107811340313397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sixsmallsmiles.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-day.html' title='A New Day?'/><author><name>Laurie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03196072571767202374</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRkVMFO6KpI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EbRyWYg2B54/S220/P4130283.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_YWuL8NHxQjI/SRmSCSzMzhI/AAAAAAAAAAw/i7viX7fiPJw/s72-c/P1090152.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
