tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91199792024-03-12T23:08:54.519-07:00The nuclear life, literally and figurativelyLife in general. My ramblings about work, motherhood, my family and trying to balance all three.Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.comBlogger1548125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-39745120612648626492018-08-26T20:15:00.001-07:002018-08-26T20:15:29.957-07:00Election meddling at it’s best<div>
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This is one of those long past due blog posts. It is probably best this way as it has some time to mellow, and because it was a sensitive thing that happened with my oldest in school last spring. We didn’t discuss it much with our friends because... because I am not sure why. We had enough conversation at home about it and weren’t terribly interested in every one else’s opinions of what we needed to do. Maybe critical reviews of where we weren’t doing enough? I don’t know. </blockquote>
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This fall starts the second year of our middle school. Last year was ROUGH at the school. I heard many times, “it’s our first year and we are trying our best”. I told the staff at the school after this last incident that I was really looking forward to this fall because they could no longer use that as an excuse. </blockquote>
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Leif ended up in Leadership in the spring semester. He didn’t end up in most of the classes he requested and we had trouble even getting him into the classes he qualified for (hello Algebra?). He wasn’t enthused about Leadership to start, but his Advisory teacher was the instructor and Leif really liked him. Slowly, Leif came around with the class and even started talking about volunteering at the school (SO not Leif), participating in community events (he participated in the women’s march), and was volunteering in the cafeteria after lunch. And he had a solid A, which his GPA needed. </blockquote>
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One day he came home and told me that we needed to go to an evening meeting at the school because he was going to run for ASB - Associated Student Body (I think). I was actually really surprised and we discussed the really big commitments that he was going to have to make. Like being at the school nearly every single day <a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(88, 86, 214, 0.258824); color: #5856d6;" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">at 7am</a>(zero hour bus), and being available A LOT. He was game. </blockquote>
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We went to the meeting where the teacher in charge gave us a HUGE packet of paperwork to complete, and a signature sheet. Leif filled out the schedule sheet so that she could contact each of his teachers to get approval for Leif to run for student body treasurer. A formality. Paperwork isn’t Leif’s big thing, but he worked really hard on this, I edited his packet (not with a heavy hand mind you) and it was good. He got 50 student signatures including signatures from several staff members at the school. He worked freaking hard. We wrote a speech that would be recorded and played for the kids. And since I was going to be on travel, we bought the materials (correctly sized huge paper, paints, markers) and we assembled a group of his friends to help with posters and campaigning. Phew. It was a busy few weeks of work. </blockquote>
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Everything was filled out and completed on time. We practiced the speech. I went on travel. After my first day at the meeting I called Leif to find out how his speech recording went?</blockquote>
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“They didn’t do it,” he said. </blockquote>
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“What do you mean, are they doing it tomorrow?” I asked.</blockquote>
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“No. I got there and lined up and they came up to me in line and told me that I didn’t have the teacher approval,” he was upset. </blockquote>
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“What do you mean?” I asked. </blockquote>
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“You know how they e-mailed the teachers?” He asked me.“ They didn’t approve me to run and they told me when I was in the line to record my speech.”</blockquote>
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I was livid. I phoned Hans, we talked. He called the counselor - who, of course, didn’t phone him back (par for the course at the school). I e-mailed the teacher in charge and the counselor. </blockquote>
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I received a semi-snarky email back from the teacher indicating that she told us about the teacher permissions required and that his didn’t meet minimum standards to run. I got this - I truly did - but she missed the point completely. Honestly I know my kid and I know the reasons why the teachers probably didn’t feel that he had what he took. But I am always seeking opportunities for him to rise to the challenge, to be and do more because I know he can. </blockquote>
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The counselor e-mailed a simple one liner to me and the teacher, “excellent explanation Mrs X”. That is the only communication I have EVER received from his counselor and it’s not for not trying. </blockquote>
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I sat down and responded that we well understood this going in as she had explained, and I also know my son and could guess probably why the teachers didn’t approve, however, I was very upset with HOW he was told as I had described. </blockquote>
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He was told he didn’t qualify in front of his peers, at the last minute, after preparing for the speech and completing ALL the other requirements.</blockquote>
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They had embarrassed and humiliated my son through their lack of organization and communication.</blockquote>
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At that, the teacher backed way way down. Suddenly she was very apologetic, told me that his packet was actually one of the best, the writing was excellent, etc. She, not knowing Leif, was surprised he was rejected by the teachers. REJECTED by his teachers. </blockquote>
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Let that sink in. </blockquote>
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Then she promised to phone me in the morning. (Spoiler? She didn’t.) </blockquote>
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In parallel efforts, AB called the counselor who told him that she didn’t have anything to do with the election process and all was up to the teacher in charge and that she supported the teacher in charge.</blockquote>
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The counselor didn’t care, he was “rejected” by his teachers, but the teacher in charge did offer a commitment to help Leif advertise his chess club and be more of a leader at the school. Nothing was really resolved, but I believed that maybe I had been heard, that she got it, and that the process might be improved. Or at least that’s what I tell myself? </blockquote>
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Or, I believed that until this fall when Leif picked up his schedule. Last spring after the election debacle the kids selected their classes for fall. Leif, always determined and not deterred from his difficulties previously, selected Leadership as his number one choice. Shortly after that they sent out the SAME exact packet used for the election to the students who had selected Leadership, along with a letter informing everyone that Leadership was now a one year course with very high demand. They asked the kids to fill out the packet and they would be soliciting teacher recommendations in order to get into the class. Sigh. </blockquote>
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I contacted the teacher in charge (same one as the election) and asked her if it was even worth it or if we were just in for round two of misery when his same teachers said the same things? She reassured me that was not the case, and that if we signed the release, she would pull his previous packet and he didn’t need to do anything, and instead, he would just get in since he has worked so hard towards this.</blockquote>
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I kind of felt vindicated. Some kind of success? </blockquote>
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Flash forward to last week when Leif got his schedule. Leadership? </blockquote>
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Nope. </blockquote>
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We talked about what to do - do we go make a stink and pull the email from last spring where he was guaranteed a slot? Do we simply inquire about what happened, is it by chance that they decided to make it a semester class after all?</blockquote>
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I don’t know what it is, what is the reason? But Leif agreed that we not pursue it. He was actually, way more interested in getting Debate class lately anyways he said. And if he had Leadership his chances for debate dropped. And frankly we were happy with his current schedule. </blockquote>
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This summer AB and I spent most weekend nights after Skadi and Silas went to bed watching “Thirteen Reasons Why” with Leif. Probably one of the best things we did all summer was watch the two seasons with him. (I had previously watched Season 1 on my own. I knew it was gritty.) He was hooked at the first episode and pressed for it at every opportunity. He got off the computer and came and sat on the couch with us. He loved the show. We talked about nearly every episode in depth - whose choices were wrong, right, who did we side with, who do we behave like, what did AB and I see happen in high school ourselves that was similar. It was a great experience despite the very difficult to talk about topics. I told AB at one painful point in the show that I needed to prove that I could sit with him through a difficult topic TV show as an example at this early age that I will always sit beside him in any difficult topics. </blockquote>
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Aside from the examples of how the kids behaved poorly, there were huge examples of how the school district, the teachers, the counselors fell short too. </blockquote>
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I don’t like to put more on our already overworked and underpaid teachers, but there is a responsibility put on these teachers, counselors, and administrators to provide opportunities to all students, not just the popular ones. What we saw from the teachers and counselors last spring was pure evidence that in reality, they pick the student body leadership and that if a child doesn’t fit the mold, that there isn’t even a real chance to run for an office. </blockquote>
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I resent the amount of time that they let us be led down the path of belief that he actually had a chance TO RUN FOR OFFICE. We put in several hours and money into the effort to fulfill his wishes to run for the student body treasurer. And he didn’t need to win - actually we all, Leif included, suspected he would have been a long shot in reality - but to have a teacher callously tell him in front of others that he didn’t get the teacher approvals when so much effort had already been put in, was just wrong. He should have been told one on one and before weeks of effort had been put in. </blockquote>
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This is not going to be the only time when we will be rallying beside our kids. I have repeated to my kids that popularity is overrated - for some of these kids, this is their only time to shine; give it to them and move on knowing that you have your entire future to shine. </blockquote>
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Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-89090927750439710722018-07-27T20:56:00.000-07:002018-07-27T20:56:19.951-07:00CringingI know that everybody has their own cringeworthy comments said to them as parents. And I know I have more often than not gotten it wrong - said things good intentioned and then realized later that my comment was received in an unintended manner.<br />
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As a regular Caucasian mom of three, I don’t have a lot of these directed at me. I am not easily offended personally or at work. But I do have a trigger point... some strange expectation from parents of only children that because I have more than one, that one or more are expendable in some strange way. I have had a couple recent instances where someone said something along the lines of, “since I only have one, I have to make sure I get it right” or “well you have three so it’s easier to _____ “.<br />
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Nope.<br />
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I don’t view any of my kids as the one I get to f up on and I will finally get it right with number 2 or 3. None of my kids are expendable from a personal development or physical perspective.<br />
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I suppose in a way it is akin to that feeling you have after you have your first child, and second is on its way and you wonder if you can ever love/do enough/do right by your 2nd child. But then your heart expands and the space is exponential. If you haven’t experienced that then maybe it is easier to see subsequent children as being somehow lesser, or more?<br />
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Actually that’s about my only theory as to why someone would say these types of things to parents with more than one child. I honestly don’t know why it would occur to someone that I can let slide the transgressions of one because I have more kids.<br />
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So there. I have said my peace on this topic that has been rattling around in my head for a few months.Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-82160228258601514272018-06-14T22:18:00.000-07:002018-06-14T22:18:55.172-07:00I have failed as a motherSomeday I will probably look back on this day and laugh. Right now I am just shaking my head and wondering what in the world? How have I failed them so completely??<br />
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This is my kids’ first summer at home alone. At least the older two. Silas is still at daycare. It is only day 2 and them negotiating the world is just frightening.<br />
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Thursday is housecleaner day. I don’t really want my two underfoot while they try to clean the house, so I suggested that they take some money (that I gave them) and walk down to Yokes and get some breakfast - a couple donuts and something to drink.<br />
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Skadi texted me and asked if they could please ride their bikes. I caved and reminded them to wear helmets. Then I didn’t hear anything else. I went into work, spent the majority of the morning locked in a video teleconference. But when I got out AB started telling me a story. And all day, little things have embellished the story here and there.<br />
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So the kids rode their bikes down to Yokes. They went in and decided on which donuts they wanted. But no one came to serve them! Apparently, it isn’t like the Spudnut shop where they get you the donuts. They waited for about 30 minutes before finding someone to ask for help with the donuts and whoever they found told them that you help yourself.<br />
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My oldest, being the frugal child that he is (ha), noted that you could buy ONE DOZEN donuts for less than they could buy four donuts. So they got the box out and each carefully selected 6 donuts. The donuts were so big that they needed a second box. So two donut boxes full, they got their drinks and headed to their bikes.<br />
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Yeah problem. How are they supposed to ride their bikes back, uphill, and carry all those donuts?<br />
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At this point Leif calls AB and asks him to come and pick them up and take them and the donuts home. AB and I both work about 15 miles from home - by highways. Hans tells them to go pound sand. Nicely. As in, “Leif go in and get some bags, hook them on your handlebars and ride home. Figure it out for yourself.”<br />
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Apparently at this time some unknown person comes up, knows the kids’ names, tells them she works with me (brown hair, with a young blonde daughter) and asks if they need help. She yelled in the phone “hey Hans!” (I still have no idea who this person was.) She tagged another woman that apparently we know and asked her, “hey can you run them home?” This unknown person says she is going the opposite way.<br />
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To be honest, this whole exchange kind of freaks me out. Skadi admitted that it made her very nervous that some woman she didn’t know was going to put them in her car and drive them home. I am glad it made her nervous.<br />
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Ok, so this couple of people I supposedly know (yes, I live in a small town) leaves and the kids are still standing there with the statement from their dad to “figure it out”.<br />
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At this point my recommendation would have been to, sit on one of the picnic tables, eat your donuts, throw the rest away, ride home. Lesson learned.<br />
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Nope.<br />
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Figure it out to my oldest meant to call his best friend’s mom and tell her they needed help. SIGH. Of course she leaves and heads out with her minivan and shows up at the grocery store for the kids. Plops their box of smushed up donuts into the car, loads up their bikes and hauls them home.<br />
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So after hearing this, I am mortified. I immediately messaged her with apologies galore and she reassured me that she was just glad that the kids knew to contact her when they needed something. We listed off the life lessons (you can’t buy in bulk if you have no means to carry or store the bulk items), and we have moved on.<br />
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Leif’s version of all this is that it is Skadi’s fault because she decided they should ride bikes.<br />
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Skadi’s version of all this has her arguing against every point of failure, “we don’t need 12 donuts”, “we can’t call your friend’s mom, that’s rude”.<br />
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I will never really know. I kind of want to forget it all right now! But I am guessing like so many stories out there, I will never hear the end of this one!!Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-86775825489884696462018-06-02T13:24:00.000-07:002018-06-02T13:25:02.299-07:00Wanderlust, or something elseI have had various versions of this post rolling around on paper, in my journal, and in my head. None of them seem just right. And I have moaned about it previously here. And if I checked, I would probably realize that those moanings are getting closer and closer in time, becoming more frequent.<br />
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This place. I like very little about this place. I have come far enough down this thought process that we know that it is the physical location and amenities associated with this place. It is separate from all that we do love about our lives. We love our friends here, we love our family so very much. I (for the most part) love the schools - ok, maybe one of them I am really fed up with now and very much looking forward to summer break and strong hopes that they figure their shit out for next year when I have two kids there. I love my job and the flexibility it offers. I really like where I am, what I am doing, and I have a great group of people I am working with now and lots of opportunities available to me. I have even had a few recent opportunities to leave for 2 year appointments with other organizations.<br />
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Those are hard because AB also needs a job. And it is hard to embed oneself in a job that would be short term. We have talked more seriously about Vienna - that maybe we would go as a one job family. But the logistics start becoming heavy - dogs, kids, and the logistics of switching my work focus for that role. But it is tempting.<br />
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I have friends recently who are moving and I am finding myself a wee bit jealous. A woman I have only just started to know at work has announced she and her family are moving to Seattle for her husband’s new position - and that started me dreaming.<br />
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The other day AB mentioned that he is just about done with this area. Yeah. I get it.<br />
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I keep telling myself that if I was able to renovate the house to create my personal paradise whereby I would not be coming home everyday and feeling the weight of my dissatisfaction with our residence that maybe our issues would be solved. Maybe if I didn’t worry daily about what new things the neighbors are going to complain about? Maybe if I didn’t find this neighborhood and my house so stifling, it would be ok? I need to uninstall Zillow...<br />
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My list of places I would leave here to move permanently is quite small. You couldn’t pay me to go back to Colorado. Large cities make me claustrophobic. Traffic makes me nuts. I need beauty. I need the outdoors. I loved Reno, but the job situation there would be abysmal. I crave Alaska and so does my Alaska Boy. But that isn’t as simple either. We have never ever lived near family and only moderately tolerate having our family (that we love very much) visit us. How would we really do living in the same city as family?<br />
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For now, here we are. And we are committing to ourselves (in the absence of any extenuating circumstances, or fantastic opportunities) that we are here until Skadi graduates. At that point all bets are off. We are lucky in that our kids don’t seem to have a particular attachment here and if we mention moving they ask excitedly, when and where? I don’t have any notions of having this house for my kids to return to - and am more of the opinion that if I could rid myself of this place right now I probably would... but it requires too much work that needs to be put in - and I have zero time right now.<br />
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Ok, so I have put this post here. It is rambley and not terribly well organized. But out there.<br />
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My kids were born here, all delivered by a fabulous doctor, all attended a wonderful daycare (in the larger scheme), are working their way through teachers that, by in large, we adore and have enriched our kids’ lives. We have friends we can rely on and call on. We have food. We can travel nearly anywhere we may want to. I get my kids on the bus and can be home at the end of the day (most days) to watch them get off. AB has Friday’s off. Life is good. Just why can’t this place be the community we would love to love?Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-1373817376550821662018-05-14T19:36:00.001-07:002018-05-14T19:36:39.836-07:00The next phaseI felt this first coming on about 6 years ago. Skadi was ready to go to Kindergarten and suddenly, she needed less. I would wander the house waiting for someone to need me. And time would drip by. I was paralyzed to start something because any minute, any instant, she would need me. Or maybe Leif would need me. And I wouldn’t get what I started accomplished. So why try? It was a kind of lost feeling.<br />
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A few months later that feeling went by the wayside when suddenly I had a new life inside me to focus on. All the things that needed to be done for a new baby! Organizing the house, moving the bedrooms, painting, sorting clothes, setting up things, figuring out what needs to be bought. My free time went away.<br />
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And here I am again. All of a sudden my house has that somewhat familiar quiet. Or maybe it’s not quiet, but a dull roar? But this time, whatever it is, it’s not going away. No new babies for us (HA! Funny to even think about.). And Leif is even more independent then he was 6 years ago at 7. (And Skadi was 5.) Leif just wants to be left alone or dropped off places. Skadi hides in her bedroom and does Lego set after Lego set. Oh, but if she isn’t there she is binging on Netflix, riding laps around the neighborhood on her bike (14 the other day), or reading whatever the book series of the minute is (Lumberjanes right now).<br />
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Silas entertains himself by playing, watching Netflix with Skadi, riding any “mobile” up and down the driveway, doing laps with the backyard zip line.<br />
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All of a sudden none of them need me. Ok, they need me. They need me to make dinner, check homework, do their laundry, mediate the occasional fight (when they associate with each other). But no one is hanging off my legs every waking hour. No one is begging to be carried. They go to bed on their own (we still read to Silas - though he is just starting to favor chapter books and I do still read Harry Potter to Skadi when I can). On weekends? They sleep in. Even when I sleep in, I am usually up before Leif and Skadi. Silas has typically gotten up and turned on the TV.<br />
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So my goal for this work trip is a list. A list of what I can do. I feel like I can kind of reinvent myself! What do I like? What do I want to do with my time? What are my goals? What are the things I can do when I have an hour of spare time? What if I have two? What can I pick up easily when I have a few minutes? What am I going to make an effort to devote time to?<br />
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It’s somewhat melancholy, but exciting as well!Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-62721064656496447162018-02-04T16:21:00.000-08:002018-02-04T16:22:04.385-08:00What if?Sometimes I sit and wonder what it would be like to be a stay at home mom? To have the time to plan and fix a healthy dinner, to volunteer at some organization that could use my help, to volunteer at my kids’ school (!!), to be able to go on every field trip and not have to apologize, “I am sorry honey, I am supposed to be in Florida that week”. To be able to participate in all the car pools. To not have to tap friends for childcare and figure out who it is that I haven’t asked in awhile.<br />
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I mentioned this to AB the other day and he laughed at me. “You couldn’t stand it. It would drive you absolutely insane. And you wouldn’t have any miles and points to track. We wouldn’t have four free tickets to Hawaii because of all your miles.” </div>
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I’m not sure he is right, I think I could do it. I think I could immerse myself in something - my kids’ middle school is brand new and having issues - maybe I would actually understand better what the issues are and have some role in defining the future. Maybe I would be one of those moms that I presently roll my eyes at who is always posting on the middle school’s Facebook page with inane little observations or problems? </div>
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Work is busy, and complicated, and sometimes scary right now. There is a lot of pressure for big wins and successes in nuclear R&D right now. We are already very applied in our research, but now more than ever. Deliver what we need in the field. </div>
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The other day one of my colleagues asked how I was doing with everything going on? She admitted to me that the current events in the world have her questioning her work. That some days she just wants to say, “don’t tell me” and walk off. I told her I got it. Some days I want to come home and tell my husband to start packing, we are moving to the mountains of Alaska where no one can find us! Ok, so some days I do say something similar this this and he tells me not to tempt him. </div>
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Travel tomorrow. I was here last week, but not the week before. </div>
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Sometimes I long for a simpler life. But when it comes down to it, I like traveling with my coworkers most of the time. I like feeling like I am making a difference. I like negotiating paths forward with clients, other labs, etc. I like strategizing who I need to talk to. And I get off on the fact that lately I am on the receiving end of this. “Nuclear Mom, I was hoping to chat with you a bit...” I like sitting in the car with a coworker who asks me if I would be willing to move to DC for a few years to support his program - even though I know (and he knows too) that I will still say no... right now. Right now, I tell him, let’s talk again in a year or two. </div>
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History, it’s being made. And I dream that someday my grandkids will read about events and my kids will say, “your grandma worked on building that capability for the United States”. </div>
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So for today, this week, I’ll keep on trucking. But if I disappear to the mountains, it’s because I want something simpler. </div>
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Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-20974771526176039322017-10-06T20:53:00.002-07:002017-10-06T20:53:28.184-07:00Silas 4.5The things that Silas says. Oh my. Where do I even start?<br />
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“Puke Brothers”<br />
Silas is prone to exaggeration with his health. A microscopic scratch renders him paralyzed. Hypochondriac at all? But with this one, Leif had been pukey feeling, so I wasn’t taking my chances.<br />
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Silas: “MOM! I need water or I am going to puke!”<br />
Me: “Silas we are in the car I don’t think I have anything.”<br />
Silas: “I’M GOING TO PUKE!”<br />
(I found a random water bottle with old water, it was the closest I could get.)<br />
Silas (after guzzling it): “Oh that’s better. The puke brothers said, ‘come on, let’s go back to the stomach, we don’t need to leave his throat now’.”<br />
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“Sweat”<br />
Ever since Silas was a baby he has been a sweaty kid. He would wake up from nap, drenched. He could never wear fleece footy jammies because he would get too hot. But he doesn’t say “I am sweaty.” He says, “I am sweat”. Like this.<br />
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Silas: “Mom, I am so sweat.”<br />
Me: “Well you should take your jacket off at school and not wear it in class. Then you wouldn’t get sweaty.”<br />
Silas: “No, I didn’t say I was sweaty, I said I AM sweat.”<br />
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“Love”<br />
Me: “Silas, I love you to the moon and back!”<br />
Silas: “Oh yeah, well I love you 159.”<br />
(That would be the highest number he knows, so it is the most in the world... it used to be 23 just a few weeks ago.)<br />
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“Noise”<br />
Me: “Silas, would you please quiet down, you are being SO loud!”<br />
Silas: “What? You want me to be loud? Let me go get a friend and I will be even more loud,” (Suddenly increasing his voice volume.)<br />
This kid doesn’t miss a beat. I guess you would have to know that this is from Mouse Soup. One of his favorite books. But I cannot tell him he is being too loud anymore as we get into this long routine whereby he just keeps getting louder.<br />
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“Starlord”<br />
Silas wants Siri to NOT call him April when he talks to her on my phone. So he tells her to call him (me, really), something new.<br />
Silas: “Siri, call me ‘Silas again’.”<br />
Siri changes my name to “Silas again” - everything says “Silas again”.<br />
Yesterday Skadi changed it to her name. Well that was short lived. Silas snatched my phone and changed it again.<br />
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Except this morning I woke up to learn that I am now “Starlord”. Leif officially believes that Silas is a genius.Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-68981061998109288552017-09-30T17:21:00.000-07:002017-09-30T17:21:50.600-07:00Bye SeptemberSomething about the changing weather invigorates me. I find the energy that I knew I had once, several months ago, and my drive returns. September is always a good goal month for me. I did crank it out this month.<br />
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My one goal was to figure out something with photos. I have so many photos on my phone and I did recently sign up for Google Photos as another stop gap for the "what if I lost them" feeling. But that didn't fully cut it. One of my sister's and my favorite things when we were a kid was sitting down and flipping through our old sticky, magnetic photo albums. We loved flipping through the pages of memories. My parents had some old ones - paper ones with corners on the photos, that were there too from the time before we were born. But we rarely looked at those because WE - the center of attention in the house - were not in them.<br />
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This is a bit similar to our house. I have albums upon albums of 11 years of our joint lives before children. Every once in awhile one of them gets pulled out - our wedding, or look at the monkeys we saw in Costa Rica, or the bears at Katmai National Park, and it inevitably migrates to look how skinny dad was and how young mom was! We have an album of Leif as a baby I think. Back when we thought we were so busy. But apparently I wasn't busy enough not to do a photo album.<br />
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Then I did some photo books. That was always kind of nice because I could print off a few of those as gifts. But then life smacked us in the face and there was no longer time to organize the digital photos and caption them electronically either. I have managed an occasional album here and there - focused on single events - like Disneyworld trip #2 or Disney cruise and Disney trip #3. But the photos are slapped into a themed album and called good.<br />
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I have been using Instagram since Silas was about 4 weeks old. And I have used it pretty consistently, so I thought my easiest, low hanging fruit solution would be something that prints my feed. And Chatbooks is so far easy. An app on my phone that continuously uploads my Instagram feed into volumes. I go through the volumes and pull the dumb photos, the food photos (well most of them), and they print up 60 page hard bound small books. I have enough photos for 25 of the books so far... so it isn't an inexpensive deal. I am buying 5 volumes a month, which means in another 4 months or so I will have my last 4.5 years of important photos in hard bound books.<br />
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The quality is alright. I wasn't blown away, but he photos are there, available to be handled and loved and laughed at. And someday if I want, I can reprint or create custom books for each of the kids.<br />
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It works for now. I am inspired to continue posting to my Instagram. And my September goals is done.<br />
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And because it is fall now and my motivation has returned I also accomplished a boat load around the house this month. Because I feel better when I can document my accomplishments, well here they are:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Cleaned, purged, and organized our linen closet.</li>
<li>Cleaned, purged, and organized our medicine closet. </li>
<li>Cleaned, purged, and organized the linen closet in the boys' bathroom. </li>
<li>Cleaned, purged, and organized Silas' bathroom</li>
<li>Cleaned, purged, and organized the laundry room. Ugh. You have no idea on that one. Apparently it has just been neglected since we moved in. But I organized and threw away a ton of stuff, scrubbed the floors and walls, relocated a bunch of stuff from my medicine closet (second linen closet in the master) that the kids and everyone comes to our room to retrieve (Kleenex, toilet paper, wet wipes, etc.) to the shelves in there. I am now very happy with that space. I dream of painting it... but I don't fantasize about making it happen yet. </li>
<li>Patched and painted a massively dinged up wall in my front stairway. Then relocated a few pictures there. </li>
<li>Patched and painted a messy, dinged up small hallway between my kitchen, pantry, and dining room. It needed it so badly. </li>
<li>And then since I had a nice clean freshly painted hallway, but measurements from 2 of my 3 kids were now gone, I pilfered a really nice board from AB's stash and made a giant ruler thing, then sealed it, hung it, and moved over all my kids' height measurements from their growth records and the walls. Now I have a beautiful board with a boatload of interesting data! I LOVE it. </li>
<li>And last today - I cleaned out my pantry. </li>
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See - - really pretty amazing for one month. I also worked on my plans for my October - November - and probably December project. The playroom reno- which will be the next blog post.Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-77516255725917862122017-08-27T17:03:00.000-07:002017-08-27T17:03:33.454-07:00Counting Down...The signs of the weather changing are there. The evenings are cooler - in the mountains this weekend they were downright cold. School is starting (7th, 5th, and last year of preschool). My pumpkins in the garden are starting to turn orange. The garden is overflowing with yumminess. Fantasy football is spinning up.<br />
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My absolute favorite time of the year. I am pretty sure I say it every year - I used to despise summer the way many people around here complain about snow. I love snow. I want to live around it more. This last snowy year was fabulous in my book. But anyways, summer is my 4th favorite season - but despite that, I don't hate it anymore. I don't like the heat (neither does AB, probably even more so than me). But since moving to the Pacific Northwest 15 years ago I have found a summer I can go with. The days are longer, the super hot days are shorter lived. The summers in the Pacific Northwest are yummier than anywhere else I have lived (except for the RibFest in Reno, and Palisade Peaches and Corn in Colorado).<br />
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I can't wait. I love the football season weather, the cool nights, the Indian summer warm days, the food, the Holidays and watching my kids anticipate the upcoming holidays. I'll take it.<br />
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So I always take a break from my goals in the summer. I didn't write about them much last spring - just no time. (Even right now I am sitting near a squealing 4yo, after I moved from a room where he was rough housing.) But I did work them and succeed in redecorating our bedroom.<br />
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So here it is.<br />
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September Goals:<br />
1. Figure out my photos. Create a plan. I miss having photos in hand, but don't have time for sorting, printing, putting in albums, or photo books. I have recently come across some subscription services that print your Instagram feed monthly for a fee. That's where most of my "good" photos. This might meet my need.<br />
2. Plan the "Playroom Transition". We are taking the kids' play space that Skadi no longer uses, filled with toys that no one plays with, and transitioning to a teen space. Skadi and I are doing this together and have been pinning many ideas. She even saw some chairs she liked recently at camp and went to the director and asked where she got the chairs. Then promptly forgot. But I loved that she is thinking about this and excited to make this transition.<br />
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October Goals:<br />
1. Start the Playroom Transition. This may be a two month thing... and actually the completely finished date may be Christmas time since some of the upgrades (new TV, game system) will likely be gifts.<br />
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<br />Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-56959135368853163762017-08-09T17:29:00.001-07:002017-08-09T17:29:25.825-07:00Community Part 2<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1500492760510_4308" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
So Community part 2. It's only taken me three or so weeks to finalize this post. But I have another hour in an airport until my flight boards, so here I am!<br />
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I thought I should say that there are different levels of community that I am referring to throughout. I hope that it is clear from context which I am speaking about. Part 1 I discussed my community as my City and my neighborhood. The things that make AB and I say "this place, this location where I am residing is not right". </div>
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I have heard people in passing over the past few weeks reference "community" and my ears always perk up. It's my current fixation I suppose - what does community mean, what makes one good or bad, what do I want in a community, and how do I get there? </div>
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I pulled out of my driveway one morning this past week and there was a City vehicle with someone in it sitting in front of my house. Again. The stress that this is causing me is ridiculous. I ran through the list in a note to AB - the dogs are locked up and not barking (weren't barking this morning, I have read what a nuisance dog barking violation is and our dogs aren't it, and the animal control agrees, we don't have that and then they thanked us for choosing rescue dogs), the yard was just fully trimmed and there are no weeds or plants extending onto the sidewalks, the trailer is parked within guidelines and has moved several times in the last few weeks and will be taken out in one week. All within City regs. What is it now? </div>
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Then another day, I drive up my street and see an older woman photographing my buses. Why? Because it was extending onto the sidewalk by 3 inches? Or am I just paranoid and she liked the bush. Somehow I suspect it the former when I parked and went to the front yard and she turned around and walked away and wouldn't speak with me.<br />
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I tell myself it is just nosy, cranky, mean, busy bodies. I can hope that the city vehicle was there to investigate the many reports of speeding up and down our street? But my guess is not. They are loathe to deal with anything that is ACTUALLY a documented issue. </div>
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I have taken a new and strong interest in our current City Council election. AB even managed to utter the words that I should run someday. Yeah no, politics is NOT my thing. But I am spending these couple of days researching each individual who has put his/her hat into the ring. I am not confident much would change, but it is reassuring to see that several people have identified the issue of "the city is NOT listening to the residents".<br />
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I know, I am a professional and I don't always listen to the general public either. There is just so much depth to the issues that people who read the internet for their source of news just do.not.get. There is never enough money, wheels are already in motion that are hard to stop, etc., etc. I guess I think the difference between them and me is that I can counter the arguments with facts. The city's only response to me is that 75% of the vehicles driving on my street are not going 35 mph or more (10 mph over the speed limit). According to their little machine that they conveniently set at intersections and next to corners. </div>
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I told AB the other day in the midst of tears that I am done. I want to move. He said that another neighborhood probably has similar issues. I replied that I don't want another neighborhood. I want to be in the boondocks where nothing that I do is going to bother anyone. Where I don't feel rage when I see a city vehicle on my street or someone on my street photographing. </div>
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Anyways... how can this one aspect of where I reside and pay taxes cause me so much stress? When I have other aspects of community that I love? The community I am talking about here is my work. I am so lucky that everyday when I drop off my kids I get to go somewhere where I feel appreciated, helpful, viewed as a resource, people are kind to each other... And that for both AB and I is part of our light. </div>
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I spent some time recently with my mom's brother and his wife. They raised their girls and had a great one career family in Casper, Wyoming. They hated Casper. I recall when he went to medical school and his raving about how it would be a cold day in hell before he returned there. But he did, he married, had a family, raised my cousins, and then left. Ran fast and hard and (as he told me the other day) will never ever go back now. He said though, that despite his hatred of the place, it had awesome schools, his kids were away from many influences that young kids shouldn't have to deal with, he made a good living, and they made lifelong friends. And that's what is important. </div>
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This is calming my frayed nerves and my desire to box up my house and leave. I have those things (mostly*). I need to calm my heels, enjoy what we do have, count our blessings, and pray to God that I live to see the age that I will get to retire and run fast and hard from here. My mom didn't get that blessing of retiring and starting the next phase, and I hold a deep fear in my heart of the same fate. </div>
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Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-75723919792174032062017-07-15T09:26:00.001-07:002017-07-15T09:31:12.480-07:00Community - Part One<div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1494353641819_6964" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
A friend recently posted (ok, several months ago) on Facebook a tribute of sorts that has been rolling around in my head and occasionally out of my mouth to AB. Her tribute to the wonderful community we reside in. How loved she feels by the community, what a great place to raise her kids, how much there is to offer here, etc. </div>
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I am so so so happy she has this. But I can't help wondering where she lives? It can't possibly be just a few miles from me, can it? I live in a different place. When I read her post, my eyes immediately jumped up to the header to make sure it was that person posting and not someone in some far distant realm - was this really about MY community? Someone thinks my community rocks? What the? I am obviously missing something. </div>
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It's no secret on this blog that AB and I don't have a fondness for this region and we agree that it probably stems from both of us, separately, growing up in what we remember as really wonderful and special spots. I think about it and wonder what my kids will take away from growing up here? Maybe some of the same as I had as a kid growing up... </div>
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So that I can get this out of the way first, I am going to list the positives I see with living here. Then we will move on to my complaints: </div>
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<ul>
<li>We can escape to nature, to the mountains, easily. </li>
<li>We have the cabin on the Sound that we spend time at every summer and the kids LOVE that. </li>
<li>Access to a couple big cities (Seattle and Portland) and a smaller one (Spokane)</li>
<li>Growing up with great farmer's markets (wonder if my kids see that as a bonus? I certainly do.) I didn't have produce when I was a kid. It was red "delicious" apples (it's no wonder I despised apples growing up), bananas, and navel oranges.</li>
<li>Schools closing for a few inches of snow. Lots of snow days in 2017!</li>
<li>Going out in the trailer - playing games in the trailer, campfires, snuggling on the tiny couch to watch movies. </li>
<li>Skiing at local ski resorts - ok, it's not the champagne powder I grew up on. But I have learned to adjust as a skier. </li>
<li>Going to Canada and exploring hot springs as a family. Experiencing newness and exploring as a family.</li>
<li>The ability to travel. (This is a big one, having good jobs enables us to do big vacations.)</li>
<li>The play house and zipline in the backyard, dad building things in the yard and them helping. </li>
<li>Schools and teachers really are pretty dang good. I have a few issues with the school district and specific instances with teachers, but they are one offs - we have some truly fabulous educators and a community that is always willing to invest in education. I have lived places where the opposite is true.</li>
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It's awesome, right? I am giving my kids a great childhood. I mean really, what is my problem? </div>
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When I was a kid I was always going to return to the places I lived. I had no intention of living elsewhere. (I do now, you couldn't force me back to live in Colorado or Wyoming.) But my kids? Leif plans to live in Seattle (or any big city), and Skadi intends to move to Alaska or Canada. Neither of my older two want to live here as adults. And further, they both ask to move on a reasonably regular basis. Skadi asks why we can't go live in Alaska with the rest of AB's family and Leif thinks I should seriously pursue that offer from my place of employment to place me offsite in Florida, or any one of the other reasonable offsite positions available. </div>
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Now my list of complaints: </div>
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<ul>
<li>My neighborhood. I hate my neighborhood. Friends in other neighborhoods have neighborly type interactions and forge awesome relationships. I get to deal with complaints to the city on us from our "neighbors" several times a year. One of the reasons we chose this neighborhood was because there was no HOA. We could park our trailer/boats/RVs on our property within city guidance (no we don't have all those). No annoying oversight. Wrong. Because of our "neighbors" the city is spending significant efforts (time and money) issuing me (and I think others) notices of violation that aren't really a big deal or actually within violation. Example, our trailer is parked on our property. When we put our RV pad in we confirmed location and compliance with the city. I have a letter from the city indicating we are in compliance. But that doesn't stop neighbors from calling the city, complaining, the City issuing a violation (sight unseen), me having to call the city, send them photos of the location (because they cannot set foot on our property to measure), remind them this is an ongoing issue with a cranky neighbor, and the city to use time and resources to (once again) clear the complaint. It isn't just the trailer. It's the foliage - if one of my trees dangles a branch on the sidewalk, the city is notified. If my dog is in the front yard off leash, the city is notified. The city, the animal control, others have come to know me and many apologize when I phone or they show up at my door. Moving has become a serious thought from us - but we always said if we move it won't be within this region. It will be to leave here. </li>
<li>The City Council is a joke - they ask the community to vote on issues, but do whatever they want in the end. Why waste my time requesting input? The city's lack of responsiveness to observed issues and how they deal with issues (see above). But wait... I thought you said they were overbearing, right? Yes, I did above. They don't properly respond, they don't tell the "neighbors" to stop filing dumb ass complaints. But they also don't listen to the real issues. Like speeding through our neighborhoods. Like the ridiculous traffic situations that SHOULD NOT BE for a town this size. </li>
<li>The region is ugly. I am sorry, I don't find desert beautiful. Actually, that's not true, I actually like New Mexico, but that's real desert, not this cheet grass infected vast nothingness area. And our local "mountain"? HA! (I know, this is dumb, the "community" has nothing to do with this.) Ok, sunsets can be amazing here. That's it. </li>
<li>Lack of family nearby. (Not a fault of the region, but people don't even really want to come see us.)</li>
<li>Nature at its best is hours away. Negative aspect - HOURS. </li>
<li>Chains, chains, and more chains. Chain restaurants. WTF. And we don't even get good chains at that.</li>
<li>The road system. Seriously, we are a small city and our roads are disasters. (See above again - a city thing).</li>
<li>Lack of quality physicians (though we do have access to Seattle and Spokane)</li>
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Ok, it isn't all negative. There are some good items for us, but sometimes it feels as though the days when the good doesn't always outweigh the bad are on the rise. What keeps us here then? </div>
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<ul>
<li>Good jobs and happiness in my job</li>
<li>Job satisfaction. I am at a place right now where I LOVE my job. Things are going really well and I have the flexibility our family needs.</li>
<li>Good school system - see above. </li>
<li>Continuous community investment in schools (though schoools aren't yet fully funded as they are supposed to be)</li>
<li>Cost of living is reasonable</li>
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I have lived in this region longer than I have lived anywhere in my life. I can honestly say that I don't have a physical place that I call home. I call my family and my house, home. First and foremost, my family is home, wherever they are is home. But AB will always call Alaska home. Washington will never be his true home. This connection to somewhere is something I am kind of jealous of. </div>
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I wonder if it is my own head that refuses to wrap around this city as my home? Or a love of this community? AB and I are presently not huge community involved sorts at this point in our lives. A lot of the reason for that is that we are really, really busy. Work and running everyone everywhere keeps me crazy busy. There are things I would love to do, but I have no time. You may note that this is Part One - I have a Part Two rolling around in my head, nearly ready to go on record. But not just quite yet... </div>
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Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-13854304617097385612017-06-04T11:58:00.000-07:002017-06-04T12:04:50.251-07:00Four and a bit moreNow Silas is four. Isn't there a poem or something that starts that way? Actually he has been four for two months now.<br />
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We have had some pretty miraculous changes on his part in last two months. One day he realized he was now four, and that means he is a big boy and that he was going to behave like one. This has resulted in a huge change in him at daycare and at home. All changes that have been very welcome. Being kicked out of daycare is no longer an everyday concern. Now that said I am still counting down the weeks until he leaves daycare and gets to attend public school.<br />
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I am thrust into the new generation of parents through daycare and thus work - several of the younger people I work with have their first child at the same daycare. And I see myself 12 years ago. And then I see how very differently I view things now. I want to tell them that THIS daycare, this particular beacon of light in your world? Not the be all end all and not in control. You are.<br />
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I would rate Silas' daycare at about a 6 out of 10. His lead teacher is tired (one of the few who was there when my older kids were), prefers he not be there more than absolutely necessary, isn't pushing academics (though he is showing great interest at home). The second teacher is wary, a bit cranky given she isn't even a year on the job, not her ideal job, doesn't smile much. But she is nice and has some fun ideas. The third teachers - are the amazing ones. But they are still new with aspirations and dreams of making a difference in a kids eyes. And, they do. Silas adores every single "third" teacher he has had over the last year. (There has been several...)<br />
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Silas... he is a very different kid as compared to the other two. He looks like them and the similarities stop there.<br />
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1. Silas eats everything. He discovered lettuce in the garden yesterday and devoured much of it. He can't wait for the carrots to pop up. He tried daikon yesterday and didn't like it, but was able to tell us why he didn't like it, "it spiced my tongue too much". Leif is emerging from his picky stage. Skadi is beyond hope - though she DID eat a single strawberry on her own accord last weekend. Silas has moments of picky, but for the most part he eats what we put in front of him particularly if it is a simply prepared fruit or veggie. His down side? Where we start really questioning his being a Carman? He doesn't like fish. I mean WTF? Never in my life would I have thought that I would have a child that didn't like fish.<br />
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2. Silas loves books. Thank you, thank you, thank you. He likes to read, he will pick up a book and flip through it and "read" to himself. Working hard to ensure this is a quality that stays with him.<br />
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3. Inquisitive. "Mom, how do you spell [insert long word or phrase]." Ok, so all my kids were inquisitive, but I don't recall any of my other two asking me how to spell something until the point they were writing for school. Some kids ask "why" incessantly? Not Silas, he wants everything spelled for him. (Weird... though I do recall quizzing my babysitters on whether they could spell Wyoming...)<br />
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4. Third child. My first two never said, "stupid". I just heard Silas say "stupid" twice while typing - regarding my hair dryer. I guess I am like his first teacher at school. My desire to fight his using the word stupid is waning. He watches cartoons and movies I am positive I never let my older two watch at this age... but it is freaking HARD to keep him separate from the other two when they are watching their shows. Silas has a play date today. Probably his first official play date. I invited the other boy to come over and knowing the parents a bit (knew the dad as a student intern ages ago and we have worked in similar spheres since), I suggested they drop him off and go have lunch or have an afternoon together. The boys will just play here! No dice, lol. He and his mom are coming over for the play date. Now my friends and I also did this, but it also usually involved a cocktail. Do I offer her a cocktail? Or a glass of wine? Or does that just further call into question my abilities? Silas is a pretty solo kid, he is king of imaginary play, hangs with his big sister a lot, runs the backyard by himself. I am suddenly freaking out and trying to recall how helicopter-ish I may or may not have been with Leif. Would I have been outside with him hovering over his play at 4? Oh this play date suggestion may have been a horrible idea.<br />
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5. Stats... I will have to add this in later this week after his well child... See bullet #4. I will say though that I just bought him a bunch of size 4 clothes and was wishing I would have bought 5's.<br />
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6. Activities. Silas is chomping at the bit to do every organized activity. He starts piano lessons tomorrow. I am skeptical... but Leif's teacher wanted to try a new toddler piano program with Silas because he is very musically oriented (this teacher? The first Silas has had who sees his "genius", lol! Maybe for that I will pay him?? He probably tells all parents this...). Leif quit piano this month, and I felt a little guilty and would love to have a pianist in the family. So I bought the program and we will see if it works. Silas has suddenly excelled at swimming and AB said the other day that his teacher talked about skipping the next level with him and putting him in Level 3. We will see. He starts soccer in a few weeks - totally excited for that. And he is begging to start Tae Kwon Do with his dad and brother too. Trying to figure out how we are going to fit everything in.<br />
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All in all, Silas is an amazing and wonderful kid. He is smart, funny, expressive, and brings a huge amount of joy to the entire rest of the family. Can't imagine a world without him!<br />
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<br />Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-42734672858281533352017-05-19T18:51:00.001-07:002017-05-19T18:51:10.733-07:00Logistics and stuffI have been blogging. A lot. In my imagination as well as on various platforms. I have blog posts started, some finished, many in my head, but somehow they don't make it here. I wish there was a decent app that I could open and blog, offline, and set to post when I am back online. But it doesn't exist. I am never on my home PC anymore. Never. One of the kids is always on it and I am too busy. But I have my iPad ready handy many times.<br />
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Anyways, I have e-mails written to myself. I have posts written on my iPad. I am going to try and get them all pulled together and posted over the next few weeks. AB is headed to Alaska, then he gets back and I go on travel again back to Albuquerque. I am hoping to have some time where I can sit and get things caught up here because I have been in a real funk lately.<br />
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Blogging used to help me see things straight. I miss writing a lot. I have had a lot of tears lately and while AB has been good about helping me through some part of me feels as though if I had this outlet active, I might have less frustrations and hurts? Maybe not. But I'll try.<br />
<br />Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-64412053459855514362016-11-19T15:33:00.001-08:002016-11-19T15:33:29.191-08:00You wouldn't believe what happened...Seriously. I didn't believe it. <br />
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I was promoted this cycle!<br />
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And I hadn't even taken to whining about my job yet! That never happens. It is a well known fact that you don't get promoted without being just totally pissed off and overdue for a promotion that you don't even want to celebrate when it does happen. <br />
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I figured I had little to lose last fall when I told my team lead that I wanted to be considered for a promotion this coming year (nearly a year ago). I reminded him mid-year and then I made it pretty easy for him to make my case for me by arming him with tables and written materials stating my case. <br />
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I was actually a bit worried because my group manager (who I adored) left a few months ago to take a temporary assignment (betting she doesn't come back) and the guy who took over for her lacks that something. Oh and not to mention that I had even had one of those "come to Jesus" meetings with him as his program manager just a few months prior. <br />
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So when he was announced as our interim TGM I felt a bit sick to my stomach. I knew that recommending me for promotion had been put forward as he called two meetings with me within the last month to "just get things straight". <br />
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Last week he shook my hand, told me congratulations on the promotion and let me know that it was actually an easy sell. I was blown away. He read off glowing word for word reviews from people I work with that actually made me tear up. It has been a hard fought year with a lot of travel. But worth it.<br />
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I haven't told many people. Truth is, I have few people in my life who really care about my career or my getting a promotion. I don't mean that to sound bad, I know many people care about ME, which is what counts. And I DO have the people who I told. And really, I don't mind it, it is just a fact of life in what I do for a living that not everyone buys into it, sees value, many think I should do something different or have taken another path. And most, frankly, don't even know what I do on a day to day basis. I am in introvert, I am not the person to scream up and down and shout it from the mountains. I find satisfaction internally, not from other people patting me on my back. <br />
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I did need to change some cost estimates and I gasped a bit at what my new charge out rate is. I had to tell one colleague why I was presenting her with a new request that was 20% larger for the year than my previous estimate. So it was a bit of a sticker shock, but she was tremendously supportive. <br />
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So here it is, putting it out there. I have rocked this year. I helped bring in a new $12-18M/year program and have a lead position on that program, I co-managed an existing program and brought many changes to how things are done, I ran one proposal call, landed a few smaller proposals, continued serving on my graduate universities advisory council, was offered a research associate position at one of the nation's most prestigious nuclear engineering university programs (UT Austin), despite never having taken a nuclear OR engineering class, I mentored other staff, I was the hammer, I resolved staff conflicts, I endorsed others, I was compassionate with what my staff were experiencing, I made connections, I was invited to speak, I became one of the "good old boys" (or so I was told, I tell myself I have infiltrated their network), I have made my colleagues proud, and I have supported my country in our mission space. I am proud of what I have done. <br />
Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-20629937741834752912016-11-18T09:08:00.002-08:002016-11-18T09:17:22.136-08:00Skadi Update<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Skadi is at that really fabulous age. Not yet a tween. Totally a pleasure to be around. Enjoys interacting with people around her. Always has a smile for everyone. Takes every broken or bent being under her wing. I wish I were more like her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">She struggles academically, which is hard for me to admit as someone who has always succeeded. This year we put her in Sylvan (freaky expensive). And we are actually seeing a lot of growth in her both academically and socially. We ended 3<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup> grade in the dumps. She hated school. She felt that she wasn’t liked. It was horrible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I don’t want to think it was because she had a horrible teacher. I felt as though her teacher was “just there”. She wasn’t a leader. She was a warm body in the classroom. She was lenient to start and then when Skadi pushed, she had no where to move to. She became exasperated (my impression) and then Skadi ended her year on a suck-ass note. Skadi wasn’t happy socially, she felt that her teacher wasn’t her friend (and maybe her teacher shouldn’t be her friend, but maybe she should stand behind her?). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I have to admit that I have no actual idea how Skadi is doing this year. We have a very different teacher who is from the dark ages. (Seriously, she could have been my 4<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> grade teacher.) She doesn’t communicate, no e-mails, no “newsletters” home. But you know what? Skadi adores her and reports that she is actually on “grade level” by her tests. WTF? Grade level is not a phrase we use with Skadi typically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Conferences are coming up and we will find out the hard truth. Skadi has worked her tail off. I so hope it has paid off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Skadi was in tae kwon do – but has decided her priorities lie elsewhere. I really kind of wish she would have continued. And maybe she will at a later date. What has really driven home for me was the confidence builder it has been in her own body. The girl knows how to take down a grown man. No joke. You don’t want to meet my girl in a dark alley – and she is only an orange belt. I asked her one day to show me what she would do if someone attacked her. I was astonished. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Skadi really enjoys swimming – like her dad. She has her goals set on joining the swim team at our health club this spring. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
She has a lot of passions she wants to pursue - but until we get her lined out and on a solid path academically, we don't have a lot of time to pursue other activities (which makes me sad). She is in Leadership Club at school and came up with the Club's motto for the year on her own. Well I found the website of "quotes for kids" and she picked the one she wanted:<br />
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"Be somebody that makes everybody feel like a somebody." Kid President<br />
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This embodies Skadi. She is tender hearted and wants everyone to be included and have fun. There is a boy in her class from Korea that speaks little English. Skadi has been nice to him and offers to partner with him a lot - we have learned that the boy has a pretty serious crush on Skadi now. Instead of backing off (since she doesn't like him "that way"), she continues to be nice and warm to him.<br />
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I love her so much. <br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br />One thing I love is seeing the interactions between her and her brothers. Yesterday we went to pick her up at Tchoukball (afterschool PE activity like handball). She is the tiniest child on the teams and the boys tend to ignore her. Leif was outraged. He knew some of the boys from last school and was SO upset that they weren't getting the ball to her equally. I loved seeing him stand up for her!</span></o:p></div>
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<br />Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-41251881328675766452016-11-18T09:08:00.000-08:002016-11-18T09:17:49.448-08:00Silas Update (from September, never posted) Silas is at that funny age where his memories are starting to form and he is defining his own world around him. He is nearly 3.5 and is a typical preschooler for the most part. A bit more intense than my other two were. And more so than many of the kids around him in preschool. He is intense and over the top, but loving and snuggley and caring.<br />
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It is really fun to see his world evolve around him and him act as an independent participant in the world we are not a part of. The Mystery Bag is his thing. What is the Mystery Bag? For sharing in his preschool class the kids get a canvas bag that comes home with a big question mark on it. The kids get to put a secret item in the bag, bring it in and give hints to the class, while the classmates guess what might be in the bag. It is a huge highlight for Silas. He LOVES the Mystery Bag. He gets so excited when he finds the Mystery Bag in his locker and then we all get to practice guessing for him all night before he takes it in. </div>
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Silas is a huge fan of music. He has eclectic tastes in music, and very much goes OCD with one song. So much so that he wears everyone out on the song. He gets the song completely memorized. (Everyone else is forced into complete memorization as well.) He sings the song, he plays it on piano, guitar and whatever other instrument he can find. And is absolutely insistent that no other song can play on the TV, in the car, anywhere. And if you try, he screams. </div>
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I kind of hate to give in to musical preschool terrorist tactics. But keeping the peace is also a priority in the house. </div>
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Silas is also at that age where he is starting to fib and try to get out of things. He wasn't the one who hit someone at school, it was another kid in the class. The reason Skadi was pushing him away wasn't because he was throwing the arrow in his hand at her. "It wasn't because I threw this arrow at her mom." He self-incriminates pretty regularly. And it's always hard to keep a straight face as he tries to get himself out of trouble. </div>
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The big trouble comes from Dad though. He pretty regularly gets in trouble at daycare for something, the teacher tells me, he insists it wasn't him. Then begs and pleads for me not to tell dad. Dad will be "Soo mad at me!" Sorry that AB has to be the bad guy all the time, but we play it up pretty good. </div>
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Silas had his first stitches two weeks ago. He and Leif were playing when Silas slipped on the floor. When he looked up there was blood all over. Split chin. AB took him to the ER and he did great there and was home in record time. Stitches dissolved and we thought all was good.<br />
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That was until I was chatting with a friend at the grocery store and Silas was messing around near my feet - slipped and fell. The ER visit that time wasn't so easy. Hours later he came home with butterfly closure and no stitches and one irritated dad. Multiple doctors, multiple injections, doctors constantly pulled away for other emergencies. It sounded awful. And the final doctor slapped some steri-strips on it and sent them on their way. Amazingly the chin has healed, but not without a decent sized scar. </div>
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Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-61042575842813286952016-11-18T09:01:00.002-08:002016-11-18T09:01:59.514-08:00Silas Update
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Excuses? It isn’t that I don’t have the absolute best intentions.
It’s that I don’t have the time. I have jotted down a gazillion things that I
want to record regarding Silas. I want to blog about my work life – because
that is crazy. But I just can’t seem to stay on top of things. There’s no time
like the present, I guess. My goal over the Thanksgiving holiday is to blog everyday. Maybe this will push me back into the habit? I always take the week of Thanksgiving off - but this year I saw that the Friday before Thanksgiving had no meetings scheduled - and Silas was in need of some mama time - so I extended. Now we are kicking off 10 days straight of "hanging out" (Silas' words). So in theory that would be 10 days of blogs. I have a few days in there we won't be around or connected, so I hope for a few days of double blogs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So Silas. He is a ball of love, but a superior pain in the
rear at the exact same time. Knock on wood – we haven’t had a bad report on him
from daycare in a week and a half. Seriously, I would knock on wood. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He is at that phase where everything he says is hilarious.
Or completely scary and I worry about my safety at night. But mostly just
loveable. He is struggling at daycare. The child does not really like other
children. At all. He thinks they are evil or something. I don’t really know. He
doesn’t want to be near them, he doesn’t want them to make noise. He doesn’t
really want them to exist. If they make noise, say things he doesn’t like,
exist in his space, basically – he freaks out. And sometimes (but not always)
that freak out entails a more vampire like attitude.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Yesterday Silas was pushed down and bonked his head pretty hard. They decided to keep him up for nap as a concussion precaution. For some reason they sent him off to kindergarten with the 5 year olds. When I picked him up I got rave reviews. He loved sitting there in kindergarten, was not distracting, loved participating. I felt a bit vindicated because we keep telling them to push him intellectually. <br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Silas is my book kid. I FINALLY GOT ONE!!! After having two
reluctant readers, I finally got my kid who enjoys passing his time with a book
laying on his bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He is freaky smart. He counts above 20, counts objects by
rote, he memorizes songs and books completely. He will sing entire songs –
“Sound of Silence”, “Lampshades on Fire”… not easy songs. He also memorizes
books. AB and I have taken to trying to trip him up. But he catches the
slightest word and corrects us. If I say “beast” instead of “bear” in his
favorite (and freakishly long) Merida book, he will correct me. It is a LONG book and he can recite
it from front to back and doesn’t miss an adjective. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We have thought about taking him in and having him “tested”.
Though I am not sure for what. Can they tell if a preschooler is a genius? Or
are we just the same as every other parent and shocked at the things that we,
as adults, don’t seem to be able to do anymore because we have our brain power
devoted to other things? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s probably the later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Silas' favorites:<br />
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Spiderman<br />
Curious George<br />
Captain America<br />
Finding Dory (refuses to watch Finding Nemo)<br />
The Grinch book<br />
Merida book<br />
Too Many Toys book<br />
Buzz Lightyear<br />
Monsters Inc,<br />
Beethoven (our dog)<br />
Lucky (our cat)<br />
Calling people "buttheads" (hanging head in shame - my fault, I call Odin this. Correction, I used to call Odin this.)<br />
Singing<br />
Jingle Bells by the Barenaked Ladies<br />
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Cooking - cracking the eggs specifically. Silas calls it "making". When I am cooking dinner he yells, "I want to make with you". He is a hard worker in the kitchen. <br />
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He is also my good eater. He eats lettuce! An unknown in my house with the kids. I actually get to send salad in for his lunch. <br />
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One other thing that Silas nailed that the other kids still lack is knowing where things are. He remembers. And when he loses something (or Dad loses something that was bought at the Chinese Lantern Festival) he remembers the item months and still holds grudges. <br />
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Me: "You're out of time out. Now what are we going to do?" (I was thinking something along the lines of apologizing to Skadi.)<br />
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Silas: "You are going to return me back to the Brother Store where they will put me back in my cage and I will have to wait for another mommy and daddy to decide they want me."<br />
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And so now I AM the one who feels like crap.<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">-----</span></o:p></div>
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Silas: "Mom, when we get home can I have a feather?"<br /> Me: "We can probably find a feather, what do you want it for?"<br /> Silas: "To call it macaroni."</span></o:p>
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Silas asked the other rainy day why we didn't have more gorillas as he wanted to take one to school and certainly Skadi would want to take one too. <br />
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Tonight while reading to him, I found out that gorilla is umbrella. And his world makes a little more sense.<br />
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Silas channeling my mom: "If you want to make pie, you make pie!"</div>
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This is actually a common Silas refrain. "If you want to have a hang out day, we have a hang out day." </div>
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Or, "if you want to go to school, you go to school". </div>
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He is a very matter of fact kid. </div>
Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-30111545813986021482016-05-25T22:21:00.001-07:002016-05-25T22:21:54.309-07:00Nakey buttSilas is in the "fascinated with his body stage". Or actually we will change that to "fascinated with everybodies bodies stage". <div><br></div><div>The locker room at the Court Club after swimming is my most feared place right now. In and out as fast as possible. House of Horrors. </div><div><br></div><div>He is very well versed in genitalia presently. He calls his "penis" and Leif has helped him out with the "balls" one. Leif didn't ask about those until much later. But he is also fascinated with "Basheenas". It sounds an awful lot like Sheena. Which is also the name of the daycare director. And I haven't told her that when she says it is cute that he asks everyone if they have a "Sheena", that it is actually not her. </div><div><br></div><div>Anyways. He has this naked dance. It's the "naked butt" dance. He gets naked, pats his head with one head, pats his head with the other does this sideways slide thing and sings "naked butt, nakey butt" while prancing and dancing. The older two fight over who it was who taught him this as though it is a badge of honor.</div><div><br></div><div>Yes, I have video. No, you can't see it. Well ply me with a glass of wine and I might show you. </div><div><br></div><div>The other day Leif went to change his clothes. Silas knew where he was going, followed him, stripped naked with Leif and started singing "we're just two naked guys! Doo doo!"</div><div><br></div><div>Leif yelling (and simultaneously laughing his ass off) "MOM! Will you come get him. Or do something. Or videotape him? Or no, because I am naked. I don't know. But maybe you just need to come see this!" </div><div><br></div><div>Hilarious. Yes. We were dying as Silas danced around Leif naked singing "we're just two naked guys, doo doo". </div><div><br></div><div>Daycare told me he is fascinated with genitals. </div><div><br></div><div>I asked them not to tell me anymore. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-75059086136098422282016-05-19T19:51:00.001-07:002016-05-19T19:51:22.643-07:00My big fat whiny postEver have one of those days when your frustrations just build up? Nothing, in itself, that's huge. Just little things. Things that bog you down and get inside your brain? I have a series of them. Let's see how far I get and if it is at all cathartic.<br />
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#1<br />
I had a friend. She was a decent enough friend and works where I work. Then one day somewhat recently I noted that it was always on me. We were having lunch on a somewhat regular basis and I enjoyed it. Then it dawned on me that I was always the only one that set up lunch. And I started getting paranoid. <br />
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"Maybe she doesn't actually like me." <br />
"Maybe she doesn't really want to have lunch with me?"<br />
"Maybe she only does this because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings?"<br />
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So I quit initiating lunch. That was over a year ago. I haven't had lunch with her since. <br />
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Lunch is just an example. It extended beyond lunch. Occasional dinners with my family. Never at their house. Occasional glasses of wine . Not at their house and never initiated by anyone other than me. <br />
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I'll admit it. My feelings are hurt. And I kind of feel like I have been an idiot all this time assuming I had a friend. Yes, sometimes I am the most insecure person around. But I have stopped initiating get togethers with her and the friendship is gone. Not valuable to her is my take away. And frankly, at this point it would take a lot to rescue the friendship probably because I have let it sit for so long waiting to see if she ever reciprocates. <br />
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#2<br />
This leads me to #2. Reciprocity. Based off of #1 I have started questioning several of my friendships and trying to understand where they go off course. I have my areas where I am sucky - I haven't been to my best friend's house in ages. And I feel guilty about this. But with three little kids and a professional career that is requiring me to travel right now, and a husband with a job with suck ass hours, escaping for girl fun is just really, really hard. I promise promise promise I will make it up. I have faith that you will be there at the end of this phase!<br />
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But here locally I have noticed that AB and I initiate and invite new couples over for dinner and never get invited back. At first it is easy to say, "they are too busy" or "someday it will work out". But then it becomes "what did we do wrong?" And AB and I wrack our brains. Was it this? Or that? And we finally come down to, "well I love you and you are perfect to me, so screw it".<br />
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The fact that people come to our Halloween party every year and seem to have a great time is indicative that some people enjoy hanging out with us. But of the people who come, there is one. occasionally two couples, who host us back. Every year I threaten to not host the Halloween party. But our kids love it and it creates fun memories for them. So I suck it up. And we all have a great time.<br />
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I wish I knew what it was. Maybe it's my kids - and if it is - well go suck an egg. Maybe it's the raucous dogs. And if it is, I am sorry, but I wouldn't bring them over or out to dinner. Maybe it is just me. Or AB. And well, if it is, I guess that's just what we have to live with.<br />
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But still... I wish I knew. <br />
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#3<br />
This kind of leads to #3. RSVP people. I invite you somewhere, I suggest we go do something and ask when a good day is, let me know if it will work for you. Let me know you aren't interested in going. Common courtesy. Three times within the last month I have invited a few people to do things with me or my kids.<br />
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::crickets::<br />
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WTF? Seriously you can't bring yourself to respond to me? <br />
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Then let's take it to the small set. What's wrong with my kids? I mean, I know they have flaws. But if I invite a child to a birthday party, tell me if they are going to be there. And if they are, and then your plans change, let me know. My daughter's birthday party still bugs me. We invited several little girls along with all our good friends and their kids. All our good friends and their kids came. And all but one out of about 8 of the other kids bailed. Skadi had a great birthday party. But she still on occasion will mention "but I had invited her to my party and she didn't come". I was shocked at the number of people who RSVP'd and then didn't show up. Further shocked at the number of people who were invited and couldn't bring themselves to even RSVP. <br />
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Then there was the other one that pisses me off even more. The lying family. The daughter tells Skadi the truth at school as they play a lot. But the mom texts me lines of crap so deep I wish I hadn't left my hip waders in Alaska. I don't want to punish the girls, but freaking be honest. The next time a text comes across on why the girl can't come over after school that contradicts so vastly what the girl told my daughter and is obviously the truth, I think I am going to call her on it. <br />
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"We are going out of town this weekend, I am sorry my daughter can't come to the party." <br />
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"No problem, I understand that you don't like this other girl who will be around, she is a sweet kid, really. But no problem! I'll see you in your front yard when I drop off your neighbor on carpool tomorrow."<br />
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Along the lines of the common courtesy of the RSVP is the "thank you". I sent you a gift, at least tell me you received it. Easy one. <br />
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I am kind of feeling done right now. <br />
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#4<br />
Feeling done right now. Feelings have been hurt. Friends I am now calling lost. Done. <br />
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AB and I are hanging on here in this region by a thin thread right now. That thin thread is my job. And how well it is going and future exciting positions that are all but promised to me. Hell, I have exciting current positions in hand. I love my work. Largely. Most days. Two good paying jobs and mine with extreme flexibility? Bird in hand. <br />
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We have talked about going overseas for a few years to an available position. What keeps us here right now is not knowing what we would do with the dogs. Ok, and the house and the cars. But largely, the dogs. I have made a commitment to them and they wouldn't be easily rehomed. But at the same time taking our kids and packing up and going overseas sounds like a dang good idea.<br />
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So there it is. Blah blah blah. <br />
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Now I can move on and be my normal happy self! <br />
Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-55789072319803851442016-05-12T21:44:00.001-07:002016-05-12T21:44:47.375-07:00Poop gunSo Silas potty trained pretty easily. We were slow though. Part of it was that we had a big vacation last fall and didn't want to deal with it at all on that trip. So CHristmas hit and we went full in. And no real issues after his first week of rebellion. <div><br></div><div>Then one day he quit pooping in the potty. We mentioned it, but didn't push. We encouraged. No dice. We knew that we couldn't push really hard after Leif had years of issues with encopresis. So I bought some toys. Little surprises for successes. And not terribly surprisingly, it came back pretty easily. </div><div><br></div><div>The lasting effects though are that he has latched onto his "poop toys". And has named each one. </div><div><br></div><div>We have: </div><div><br></div><div>Poop gun</div><div>Little poop gun</div><div>Big poop gun</div><div>Poop gabloons (balloons)</div><div>Poop Man</div><div><br></div><div>Silas: "Leif, here is my poop gun!"</div><div>Leif: "Umm Silas, do you think that we might be able to call it just 'green squirt gun'?"</div><div><br></div><div>Checker at the grocery store: "Oh, that's a nice squirty toy."</div><div>Silas (in a deep voice)': "It's my BIG poop gun!" </div><div><br></div><div>At swimming lessons at the top of his lungs: "I NEED MY POOP GUN!" </div><div><br></div><div>At Tae Kwon Do with a huge group of people around us: </div><div>Mrs. Rose: "Silas, look at that..."</div><div>I was rude, I cut her off. </div><div>Me: "Don't acknowledge the squirt gun!"</div><div>Mrs. Rose: "Oh?"</div><div>Me: "See, he got it for pooping in the potty and so now he proclaims it his 'poop gun', loudly!"</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-86055358110616474512016-05-12T20:56:00.001-07:002016-05-12T20:56:14.373-07:00Well babiesOk. So neither are babies anymore. But I finally got around to the well child exams for Silas and Skadi. Well child visits are my favorite. Our Doctor talks to the kids as adults and the responses are often hilarious. <div><br></div><div>Silas: "What is she doing to me?"</div><div>Me: "The nurse is taking your blood pressure."</div><div>Silas: "Oh. Ok." (Nurse finishes.) "Are you happy now?"</div><div>Nurse: "Umm yes."</div><div>Silas: "Did you suck all my bones away?" </div><div>Nurse: (Laughs) "Umm no."</div><div>Silas: "Yeah, ok. I can still feel my bones in my elbows and knees. I guess you are ok now."</div><div>She enters the information into the computer.</div><div>Nurse: "Ok, just a few questions. Does he know his name?"</div><div>I just looked at her blankly for a minute.</div><div>Me: "Yes, he knows his name."</div><div>Nurse: "Does he speak in complete sentences?" </div><div>Me: "Well..." (Pause.)</div><div>Nurse: "Ok, so he did to me, so I am guessing that's normal."</div><div>Me: "That and more."</div><div>And Skadi is busting up laughing. </div><div><br></div><div>Doctor: "Silas, what do you like to eat?"</div><div>Silas: "Cheese."</div><div>Doctor: "Anything else?"</div><div>Silas: "Yogurt."</div><div>Doctor: "Anything else?" </div><div>Silas: "Cheese."</div><div>Doctor looks at me.</div><div>Me: "He speaks the truth."</div><div>Doctor: "Silas what is your favorite thing for breakfast."</div><div>Silas: "Most definitely pizza."</div><div>WTF? The child has never had pizza for breakfast in his life.</div><div><br></div><div>Doctor: "Skadi what is your favorite thing for breakfast?"</div><div>Skadi: "Captain Crunch with CRUNCH BERRIES!"</div><div>WTF? I buy Captain Cruch ONCE in a moment of weakness. Trying to appease Silas at the grocery store so I can finish getting groceries and now it bites me in the butt! She thinks I give my kids pizza and sugar cereals for breakfast. GAHHH!!</div><div><br></div><div>Skadi grew two inches last year and remains in the 26th percentile for both height and weight. </div><div><br></div><div>Silas was 32 lbs and 38.5". About 50-60th percentile for both. He's a lightweight because he eats nothing. Nothing but mango nectar, cheese and yogurt. I need to compare stats, but I am sure he is lighter than both the other two, but height is a forgotten unknown for me. I am pretty sure Leif was taller. Probably not Skadi though at age 3. She was starting to show her shrimpiness at that point. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-21505530286960832772016-01-14T17:22:00.001-08:002016-01-30T22:08:17.152-08:00Vacation-ville Part 4: Disneyworld<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Finally! The last installment. Yes, it was quite a trip. Now that I have quit swaying from the cruise and we are all home safe and sound I look back on it all quite fondly. There really is something truly magical about taking your kids on vacation. And it doesn't have to be a 2 week crazy multi-destination expensive trip either. My kids love going out in the trailer too. We love going over to Seattle. Or up to the mountains. Staying in a small, confined space (trailer or hotel) with the kids can be both maddening and full of love. <div><br></div><div>By this point in the trip I was seriously lacking clean clothes. There were laundry facilities on the cruise ship, but there was some serious competition. And hauling your laundry ALL over the freaking ship to find an open machine was hard. Before departing on the plane a week and a half prior, we knew that doing laundry was going to be an issue and that we weren't packing boatloads of clothes - truly nearly everything we packed was worn at least once. We had thought we would just pay and turn over a big laundry bag to some smiling Disney employee. Well at $2 a shirt... Not exactly. We were recycling. And standing in line for laundry facilities - when we would much rather do something else. </div><div><br></div><div>But now we were off, freed from the constraints of the boat! We hadn't eaten breakfast and I think we were all sick of the ship food. We got off, drove a bit and found an iHop. iHop had never tasted so good. We actually ordered a ton of food, paid little to nothing (it seemed a steal after all the money we had just forked over for the last 7 days) and EVERYONE - picky Skadi and Silas included - chowed. </div><div><br></div><div>I had spent time in this region before on travel for work, so I dragged everyone over to the Ron Jon Shop. I like this place. I guess where I come from, where I grew up, we just don't have a huge warehouse devoted to swim suits and swim gear and all things water. We shopped a bit, AB rented a boogie board and we hit the beach. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX395WT_3VEzq0NIk-BbeXDw0NIwIFH8D1UWJoCiV3hA9IKc4OZs8jRQCzV4YOw06oFDctAaBe_ig-EZJCR_2VYGGfjntptOXlygh6_oeow8QN8LbA7MUCD7d_otL_kLFmJyc/s640/blogger-image--276866131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX395WT_3VEzq0NIk-BbeXDw0NIwIFH8D1UWJoCiV3hA9IKc4OZs8jRQCzV4YOw06oFDctAaBe_ig-EZJCR_2VYGGfjntptOXlygh6_oeow8QN8LbA7MUCD7d_otL_kLFmJyc/s640/blogger-image--276866131.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Waves! A lot of waves actually. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj298iS7FMvVIh-_bJLN6zyG1a-Uesk20_RBl0KptgdFfR-2PZTdowM2SIenlW1qTSEMZ7Ewwl1cnerjMS3shidYLfBEFu-3VF5RPjjEmkVQnvptsNfFTV30tYtKkok1EDIV8/s640/blogger-image-673737968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj298iS7FMvVIh-_bJLN6zyG1a-Uesk20_RBl0KptgdFfR-2PZTdowM2SIenlW1qTSEMZ7Ewwl1cnerjMS3shidYLfBEFu-3VF5RPjjEmkVQnvptsNfFTV30tYtKkok1EDIV8/s640/blogger-image-673737968.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Reno of Cocoa Beach. Skadi will never let us forget this photo as she was not there to hold the bird. And he left before she got back. Many curses on me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FdZNf-X1-zaoWbF6kSLeRYt5RKWiMTIM6NNGbTGufDtjJjU5cgZ2YmcU7PXbajBgOc0EiSVzYTI2n2GxvXQTbvE7t-iOpI-0iJOYhBPh3Oxg3qNi5TU9cDH02-OJLPNrGMI/s640/blogger-image--422338007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FdZNf-X1-zaoWbF6kSLeRYt5RKWiMTIM6NNGbTGufDtjJjU5cgZ2YmcU7PXbajBgOc0EiSVzYTI2n2GxvXQTbvE7t-iOpI-0iJOYhBPh3Oxg3qNi5TU9cDH02-OJLPNrGMI/s640/blogger-image--422338007.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thankfully Skadi had just bought a swim suit at the Ron Jon Shop. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxuFdki0xcKXtF2FUa2i-jHoJVCEPzUGBJvxsbBzcDC-WuYnPM5ZCrrdQD-NOFldGhyYdGUk2nwyHTcm_OTO_pAcgHqCwBldgL5gNwgfDNtWzDPxrS_L7R0_U50qCDm5sdZM/s640/blogger-image--624213722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxuFdki0xcKXtF2FUa2i-jHoJVCEPzUGBJvxsbBzcDC-WuYnPM5ZCrrdQD-NOFldGhyYdGUk2nwyHTcm_OTO_pAcgHqCwBldgL5gNwgfDNtWzDPxrS_L7R0_U50qCDm5sdZM/s640/blogger-image--624213722.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Kids having fun!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqpiJa1nkb2tE_BuLjnKJWG_v4Pn0XwctF268PaHq0LWnS9KIEuw-1cAW0fPudKEkOTmpZ9q7OSWvIoQ5C-uQkAUzQvFdC58Z9sygCAeY4RaiIMX8gW8U39LCOn5-Xpzx77FQ/s640/blogger-image-322819210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqpiJa1nkb2tE_BuLjnKJWG_v4Pn0XwctF268PaHq0LWnS9KIEuw-1cAW0fPudKEkOTmpZ9q7OSWvIoQ5C-uQkAUzQvFdC58Z9sygCAeY4RaiIMX8gW8U39LCOn5-Xpzx77FQ/s640/blogger-image-322819210.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Leif sitting and being contemplative. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">AB had a great day. He claims this was his favorite day of the trip - hanging out on the beach, just us and riding the boogie board. Our hard deadline was the rental car return time in Orlando. We had to get to a grocery store to stock up on necessities (we were actually running out of diapers), drive to Orlando, get checked in at the Port Orleans Riverside and then get the car back. Lots to do. We packed up. Found a public restroom to change and headed towards Orlando. All things being equal and I had to do it all over again, I think I would have planned to spend the night here in Cocoa Beach. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So we drive - actually I drive and everyone else konks out given the late night, early morning, day on the beach experience. Before we know it we are in Orlando and checked in at the Port Orleans Riverside. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We picked this hotel because it is one of the few moderate priced category hotels where you can have 5 to a room. I am learning this is a big deal with a family of two parents and three kids. You either lie about having only 2 kids and a total of 4 people - or you pay for a suite or two rooms. It isn't AS big of a deal with Silas being under 3 on this trip - as we didn't have to pay for his park access or anything. But over 3 years old and it becomes a pain in the butt to try and work around with hotel stays. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We had previously stayed at Caribbean Beach and Coronado. So now we were at Port Orleans Riverside. Skadi loved her fold out bed. Silas got a crib and Leif lucked into a queen bed to himself. Skadi was thrilled at not having to share her nifty fold down. You can see why Leif had no interest...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMmBNb71Qxob9LpmbsLwKzFoqPLtgtvgDBRp_me56_zmWwadmXyiC-tOn_8I1K20N6t4VzCqm7Nosw77qg-mpQvuAMmqeB5XLkyLbwy9hEdG0GyMUjOVl28vUStBxL8aciJTU/s640/blogger-image--905294928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMmBNb71Qxob9LpmbsLwKzFoqPLtgtvgDBRp_me56_zmWwadmXyiC-tOn_8I1K20N6t4VzCqm7Nosw77qg-mpQvuAMmqeB5XLkyLbwy9hEdG0GyMUjOVl28vUStBxL8aciJTU/s640/blogger-image--905294928.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">That night we ran over to the resort for dinner. We had thought about taking the boat over to Downtown Disney - actually now it is Disney Springs - but the line was long and we had some hope of hitting the pool after dinner and before bed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This is where I think the Port Orleans Riverside let us down. We had come to the restaurant once before on our first trip - Boatwrights - and had a poor experience. Boatwrights was a no go at a 90 min wait. And so we went to the cafeteria area. The selection was not great and was not made better by the kid who puked in the middle of the floor. Truly I feel for the parents. It could have been us. But it didn't help our appetites. We all got our mugs set up, had a refresher on how to use the meal plan (offered reluctantly) and then sat down. We had mugs swiped nearly immediately while refilling - yes, seriously. There was a dancing/instrument/parade thing for the kids and they didn't come over to our wing. And the food was kind of like Denny's. Just not good. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I could go into it more, but we will probably go back to Coronado next time. We enjoyed their food selections and particularly the breakfast bar. But we also had huge issues with shuttle buses at Riverside. We actually had to miss/reschedule one Fast Pass because of lack of shuttle buses. This was annoying because our next option for Soarin' was at 7pm that night. No chance at getting more than our three FP+ in. If it was just once, it wouldn't have been a big deal. But two days of our three there we waited and waited and waited for buses. They had an attendant (intern) there who kept radioing for shuttles both days to no avail. Or at least that was what they were telling us they were doing - we had never seen attendants at the shuttle stops before. In talking with other people they complained about shuttle accessibility with both this trip and prior trips staying at the Riverside. No thanks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Ok enough about Disney Riverside - on to Hollywood Studios!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzSwuyPnwBmxThcq2JefwouAtBggDCkxSQGMZqRvf38i7B_0jMxNbWO_srBNbk55nw97NS84IGexKKGicML_jRFkKjV-Pkm8X7-ifb_UhqwqRdZHv1glKYM5M6XuikgaH7Z0w/s640/blogger-image--80314032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzSwuyPnwBmxThcq2JefwouAtBggDCkxSQGMZqRvf38i7B_0jMxNbWO_srBNbk55nw97NS84IGexKKGicML_jRFkKjV-Pkm8X7-ifb_UhqwqRdZHv1glKYM5M6XuikgaH7Z0w/s640/blogger-image--80314032.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We love Hollywood Studios for Star Wars and the Buzz Lightyear ride. Super fun. We rode Star Wars a number of times, waits weren't terribly long. We only got on Buzz once. It is shocking to me how long the waits are for that ride. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Unfortunately Silas isn't tall enough to ride many of the rides. But he likes posing on things and seeing characters thankfully. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Uo3bKlLkBG-X9k8f5BMhh43BT5cS5BUYqHMAWjPhpYbnEZoADq-NvZm6C2EK0qKpN44HTjFvqwkN99G2zJJdGgLxgnM5ZGcnWLUOkP0Kn9AHNGtBEg7qLFKvauY1n0mOVWU/s640/blogger-image--939300882.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Uo3bKlLkBG-X9k8f5BMhh43BT5cS5BUYqHMAWjPhpYbnEZoADq-NvZm6C2EK0qKpN44HTjFvqwkN99G2zJJdGgLxgnM5ZGcnWLUOkP0Kn9AHNGtBEg7qLFKvauY1n0mOVWU/s640/blogger-image--939300882.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAfcERN05e9s9Dm63s_uisUg8oFHGa0eh17WiXLz_ajU5-MNlRk_HtKCQ4jwLETQ2xJXtAfsaQD6R4ffYyDmYx_NTs3JVQxDVv3lo3x7_aYI2mN_Rnf1xq0WIEpz30xiYs-4/s640/blogger-image-1412965692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAfcERN05e9s9Dm63s_uisUg8oFHGa0eh17WiXLz_ajU5-MNlRk_HtKCQ4jwLETQ2xJXtAfsaQD6R4ffYyDmYx_NTs3JVQxDVv3lo3x7_aYI2mN_Rnf1xq0WIEpz30xiYs-4/s640/blogger-image-1412965692.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh and the Osborne Spectacle of Lights. Really magical. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCDgh0zC5paqryKT0rkqq2-kNzC-HZVG-0oPlxtbDA1rhVlfwsv_zWYI4LBuHpO0ATbft4nsjuGaTRTOOc02mZypwkYU2vTRxXAgVcmz9mplOMrGeVri1GRPoz6ZS-vFz6iM/s640/blogger-image--1259723057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCDgh0zC5paqryKT0rkqq2-kNzC-HZVG-0oPlxtbDA1rhVlfwsv_zWYI4LBuHpO0ATbft4nsjuGaTRTOOc02mZypwkYU2vTRxXAgVcmz9mplOMrGeVri1GRPoz6ZS-vFz6iM/s640/blogger-image--1259723057.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We loved the lights. So did everyone else. Hideous crowds. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZZ_qqQSublX-0JeWOGu4aew76l0AJoTSGOjjCwTXyZZCnHGm2fim64vCZRsB2oZwi4ievSxsWrqfEeRz_jfFkEjNSMsq36NcGRGNj_glr-YNjnkRARSGLfA_h4oc-Q-sojg/s640/blogger-image-1843309486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZZ_qqQSublX-0JeWOGu4aew76l0AJoTSGOjjCwTXyZZCnHGm2fim64vCZRsB2oZwi4ievSxsWrqfEeRz_jfFkEjNSMsq36NcGRGNj_glr-YNjnkRARSGLfA_h4oc-Q-sojg/s640/blogger-image-1843309486.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Getting ready to get snatched up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRwdVF6uf4TQSLyTD75MzSMSn4U-3lL3dhtLGTNZuJNhxP6XbRhJTDARkHoxMenhHuErvgNZFdJlfGGcGolbAPnWcrFhNtTUqXCXqaiQ0BYzv7u9WLUyfyHg8-nRZTEIFn_4/s640/blogger-image-93074186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRwdVF6uf4TQSLyTD75MzSMSn4U-3lL3dhtLGTNZuJNhxP6XbRhJTDARkHoxMenhHuErvgNZFdJlfGGcGolbAPnWcrFhNtTUqXCXqaiQ0BYzv7u9WLUyfyHg8-nRZTEIFn_4/s640/blogger-image-93074186.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We were about ready to let them snatch HIM up. He wanted to see Buzz so bad, but waiting for 40 minutes in line was a bit much to ask. Or he was just being a pain. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLekag7rB_EKJy-fuQ_CH22V5Hlp9WkIGYTiGV6vgthisUmLsy2iWRx6DVF9hqX_5kcg-o_dVzm_l7Fxn1t1ZSjHN2Kby8a7riqGYa6gFE30rOE38_qGWPmg0r3wNxmbwH9k/s640/blogger-image-1542221074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLekag7rB_EKJy-fuQ_CH22V5Hlp9WkIGYTiGV6vgthisUmLsy2iWRx6DVF9hqX_5kcg-o_dVzm_l7Fxn1t1ZSjHN2Kby8a7riqGYa6gFE30rOE38_qGWPmg0r3wNxmbwH9k/s640/blogger-image-1542221074.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Fantastic. Truly one of the best shows. We love it. I tried to get them to redo their photo from years ago. It was like pulling teeth. But I got some semblance of it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjDGLicWufEnVqp9tszQp2M5uizVHB_5la5uihFZowxsns3FVE1oEkTtFwkqzQLb7fac1jG5SzM6I6tGkxJHukCf2cpMghFS0xWKNR5dHsFE0kjiIrWInFH-jIsrri0v5ZGg/s640/blogger-image--573192002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjDGLicWufEnVqp9tszQp2M5uizVHB_5la5uihFZowxsns3FVE1oEkTtFwkqzQLb7fac1jG5SzM6I6tGkxJHukCf2cpMghFS0xWKNR5dHsFE0kjiIrWInFH-jIsrri0v5ZGg/s640/blogger-image--573192002.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Fantasmic</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8YqvB7rMHNaie2miHJuuOLExcXiRjXjv41kA1dOozVF3UQuMsOg9gZ679iaydG1e4dOu7euTK2mr_2Z2saeaT8ibLhpNrBSx-AKNnATVuWNBJAZE9JN4eY7hHF_1dWbOOdLI/s640/blogger-image-1926527694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8YqvB7rMHNaie2miHJuuOLExcXiRjXjv41kA1dOozVF3UQuMsOg9gZ679iaydG1e4dOu7euTK2mr_2Z2saeaT8ibLhpNrBSx-AKNnATVuWNBJAZE9JN4eY7hHF_1dWbOOdLI/s640/blogger-image-1926527694.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oops, Buzz pictures are out of order. I always told Leif he didn't have to see the characters, but some he willingly saw, though with a smirk on his face like I made him. I, in no way, made him see Buzz or Woody. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcAw2mHAIrhliJvCzy0xilYVoAhVcUD5YMKcpAifXYhH_Hj6JfBNnhUbjFlA7Ijwhjo77I8fUvnvLHe-VYV0MalkdzvHWJFkqLv1HqWQ-0hRSE3UWWZ1f9Bm0aK9rG9zsxOw/s640/blogger-image--1940584611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcAw2mHAIrhliJvCzy0xilYVoAhVcUD5YMKcpAifXYhH_Hj6JfBNnhUbjFlA7Ijwhjo77I8fUvnvLHe-VYV0MalkdzvHWJFkqLv1HqWQ-0hRSE3UWWZ1f9Bm0aK9rG9zsxOw/s640/blogger-image--1940584611.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Miss Bean - or KK. I am not supposed to call her Bean. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOKg3CFR39JUpMfna2svG6no4Wf6urB_CYdIwOlCFvhm1XxRSCsPS40PrFG2MJWxqY6cih7f02BEkKzatbwGYKkLccTkjECff_MyVXNVhZpnp9EXI8ZCeeFy4qZ7iJub9OL4/s640/blogger-image--357464727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOKg3CFR39JUpMfna2svG6no4Wf6urB_CYdIwOlCFvhm1XxRSCsPS40PrFG2MJWxqY6cih7f02BEkKzatbwGYKkLccTkjECff_MyVXNVhZpnp9EXI8ZCeeFy4qZ7iJub9OL4/s640/blogger-image--357464727.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The whole crowd. Psycho toddler changed his mood once he got to the front of the line. Silas called Buzz Lightyear "To bitty and beyond". Silas talks: "I met to bitty and beyond!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTIsdZGjbQwFT4TtBWTkcxqRJ9SjNJfN_f1rYZiULYZrSeJNABWAlpCNi_7mJkxpU7AlQSKql3Z2hQMY0HFr7p6wGXjygKD5s50yJCgJF-n3eDWpUuvKpGNBtNtYZmAYAwZE/s640/blogger-image--172188527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTIsdZGjbQwFT4TtBWTkcxqRJ9SjNJfN_f1rYZiULYZrSeJNABWAlpCNi_7mJkxpU7AlQSKql3Z2hQMY0HFr7p6wGXjygKD5s50yJCgJF-n3eDWpUuvKpGNBtNtYZmAYAwZE/s640/blogger-image--172188527.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Us. Note that the Mickey hat isn't there anymore, which is kind of sad. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUivNrdKjk3i0Gesa0nOoUdTXQRHeFNP0vJ5XG-BKUyL2Snkn5-z9mlrQKRWGiH_XaaX86j3Jq9a_BXHe_pKQeAflBPXzG3ELbsUELJOBDzTAhDfaZoHJVkWJmtMMJ35Rfcw/s640/blogger-image--1504375986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUivNrdKjk3i0Gesa0nOoUdTXQRHeFNP0vJ5XG-BKUyL2Snkn5-z9mlrQKRWGiH_XaaX86j3Jq9a_BXHe_pKQeAflBPXzG3ELbsUELJOBDzTAhDfaZoHJVkWJmtMMJ35Rfcw/s640/blogger-image--1504375986.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Found a photographer while AB and the kids rode Star Tours. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYz82ztGpOlyMCYajAhMz0PNvdaJUrfEc-NTiBLFjcWK1tIllC5rHIStbbUCr415SJMLD1wBJ2naTgjoMgy6wm6y3cyymMVpLLOmXxL4cA9YZfhrkCK5jZpbA9vhX1AVBJh_A/s640/blogger-image--1651951563.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYz82ztGpOlyMCYajAhMz0PNvdaJUrfEc-NTiBLFjcWK1tIllC5rHIStbbUCr415SJMLD1wBJ2naTgjoMgy6wm6y3cyymMVpLLOmXxL4cA9YZfhrkCK5jZpbA9vhX1AVBJh_A/s640/blogger-image--1651951563.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div>He looks all sweet and innocent there, but we know better. </div></div></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOt_Mz-rvsH2L3AdrV0A4-_RycWSyDdVrGRGay1F0ezMl_ovqSo_CwaIBrvSteb52JEc8B6zhg-Y4SdNBvdJlv3mHChWSlpwfSxUwxM_xKQQk_Zb1uvQWq65NSWWa1CbdiK0w/s640/blogger-image-731528335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOt_Mz-rvsH2L3AdrV0A4-_RycWSyDdVrGRGay1F0ezMl_ovqSo_CwaIBrvSteb52JEc8B6zhg-Y4SdNBvdJlv3mHChWSlpwfSxUwxM_xKQQk_Zb1uvQWq65NSWWa1CbdiK0w/s640/blogger-image-731528335.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JH1g6cE-i15-m7350oQu0lRiS8Rt5vuWl0dzyl1EH8eSN6U9HWcHCislNiXMMpF_XNIYD-xSpzHkBafDXJpB9akVmJtsqmECOl23IEW7GOeqacAekwASSMJ0zZGDCFJwNaM/s640/blogger-image-28504376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JH1g6cE-i15-m7350oQu0lRiS8Rt5vuWl0dzyl1EH8eSN6U9HWcHCislNiXMMpF_XNIYD-xSpzHkBafDXJpB9akVmJtsqmECOl23IEW7GOeqacAekwASSMJ0zZGDCFJwNaM/s640/blogger-image-28504376.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58c0ZEaAkyvLhPPMuHaJXIPyK84TlgDM_pvTvuXKxwUMoaMkwHXUa71ah8Lc28IAtPDHRiujeX1WMYEvut8E8aeEleOtf0VDWM0TJfULgKLObhqXgkOMDRqVChRz8BG-pU7o/s640/blogger-image-1825450092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58c0ZEaAkyvLhPPMuHaJXIPyK84TlgDM_pvTvuXKxwUMoaMkwHXUa71ah8Lc28IAtPDHRiujeX1WMYEvut8E8aeEleOtf0VDWM0TJfULgKLObhqXgkOMDRqVChRz8BG-pU7o/s640/blogger-image-1825450092.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It was a late night at Hollywood Studios. Silas was NOT a fan of Fantasmic - many tears. There weren't as many rides for him, and even the things we thought he would enjoy, like "Buzz Lightyear", were "scary". But we had a great time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The next morning was Magic Kingdom day! We were all excited for the new Fantasyland and made a plan to beeline it to Fantasyland for our Little Mermaid Fast Pass - after cinnamon rolls at Gaston's. We were waylayed along the way... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqK6NU91YsJuo70SU7AEgswlKVqDwliy9s8pyHtJ8VpvLPg883ejMjaaGZ886zZGrHBItz6JO2r0Z8DI01O5HhyWyVXO2GOwpSXVW1Qu5KUsJuYS8mDlFtz6zoUOVasRXkrE/s640/blogger-image--668953181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqK6NU91YsJuo70SU7AEgswlKVqDwliy9s8pyHtJ8VpvLPg883ejMjaaGZ886zZGrHBItz6JO2r0Z8DI01O5HhyWyVXO2GOwpSXVW1Qu5KUsJuYS8mDlFtz6zoUOVasRXkrE/s640/blogger-image--668953181.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Silas' favorite Disney hero. Merida. He LOVES Merida as can be seen by his grin here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwrotX-Uh7aBmV_jsZJSRGwDTK1vPD-1NY3oQQKO7cUwRgWaM2T1ETgk1eHxfnfwd5VvqBlog1auY5s2UaiIZHRYgZbkbfrbEGF23XTDG0paFO7i8Gr_scCaewAq8pnyJWm5c/s640/blogger-image--1286344323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwrotX-Uh7aBmV_jsZJSRGwDTK1vPD-1NY3oQQKO7cUwRgWaM2T1ETgk1eHxfnfwd5VvqBlog1auY5s2UaiIZHRYgZbkbfrbEGF23XTDG0paFO7i8Gr_scCaewAq8pnyJWm5c/s640/blogger-image--1286344323.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The boy was SO SO happy and still talks about meeting Merida (and Elsa). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglNWPuhhxJ5k9BXB2vFv1SaIJK884VmHpuIqbp8e4KNQrubyYLj7nxZB81HIjo_UFt1oRyi7JE_LNZKFub01z6l8Hwh7l7SVFICKeYP8ymHV9t1m_cS8viHUFXIFRT7-5vV9M/s640/blogger-image--651620184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglNWPuhhxJ5k9BXB2vFv1SaIJK884VmHpuIqbp8e4KNQrubyYLj7nxZB81HIjo_UFt1oRyi7JE_LNZKFub01z6l8Hwh7l7SVFICKeYP8ymHV9t1m_cS8viHUFXIFRT7-5vV9M/s640/blogger-image--651620184.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbF10t6IIVSlgTh_-uA3hh8W51VR8DwaalIcYYBkRLomto55QTq8ziOU9vLoed4AelZd4rYnQMGGQQoSsvkaBHFXP_nSyspC4Zc4x6ySTKC1roPNCUUtqdNszZeZaxjU19WCk/s640/blogger-image-2120087940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbF10t6IIVSlgTh_-uA3hh8W51VR8DwaalIcYYBkRLomto55QTq8ziOU9vLoed4AelZd4rYnQMGGQQoSsvkaBHFXP_nSyspC4Zc4x6ySTKC1roPNCUUtqdNszZeZaxjU19WCk/s640/blogger-image-2120087940.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She's already a pro actually. But always good to have pointers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Finally we were on our way to Fantasyland! Gaston's cinnamon rolls were perfect. As was LaFrou's brew. Voyage of the LIttle Mermaid was fun (only "just a little scary" was uttered once or twice). We all really loved the new Seven Dawrves Mine Train and managed to ride it a few times. We had to ride three people, which meant one of the kids was always by themselves. It became an ongoing joke about Leif's ride partner. One woman screamed and videotaped the entire time. Leif was annoyed. Another was the sweetest little old lady who thoroughly enjoyed herself, though was not the seat mate that Leif was expecting. And given the opportunity Skadi will always try to take the front seat and try to ride it by herself. She was thwarted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSVFRosKX_gGeKwB1KuZXcwQEz-15tQk4i3LV8NKYK37K96XMg9caCNBh9bPzfxPB9VNhv4qBrGGZB_1fO3evlDQRk8zFuhDxbeXP5jrNjojFRsp7PeepHJKH7aAyNjiniok/s640/blogger-image-1497051350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSVFRosKX_gGeKwB1KuZXcwQEz-15tQk4i3LV8NKYK37K96XMg9caCNBh9bPzfxPB9VNhv4qBrGGZB_1fO3evlDQRk8zFuhDxbeXP5jrNjojFRsp7PeepHJKH7aAyNjiniok/s640/blogger-image-1497051350.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Best ride photo of AB and Skadi. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0SZTIyJBKI5EI_oYJ6ZIcdDV_pNRzUufa1D8PdrCpNsSXOr5ZIp81px0ccnxdu19Z962VYvCyBOqsolTx0FSV4AxV6RHSwFoy-H-5i9hqBPxhoTMsGAFHLSmCOc1KceJsVg/s640/blogger-image-2130625644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0SZTIyJBKI5EI_oYJ6ZIcdDV_pNRzUufa1D8PdrCpNsSXOr5ZIp81px0ccnxdu19Z962VYvCyBOqsolTx0FSV4AxV6RHSwFoy-H-5i9hqBPxhoTMsGAFHLSmCOc1KceJsVg/s640/blogger-image-2130625644.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPgg-q15YZm6sFwjsmKfMwVWEjlF-En-p5UFGTGFAsN3hyphenhyphenvY8VXcqdP6RK2jxv6XcmkuMAHcaOhb0P31aBybC5jzYRwDF3e5HXkm37QZWFz5FreH4cLRYdYnHIZyV9mzTH5tY/s640/blogger-image-721131065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPgg-q15YZm6sFwjsmKfMwVWEjlF-En-p5UFGTGFAsN3hyphenhyphenvY8VXcqdP6RK2jxv6XcmkuMAHcaOhb0P31aBybC5jzYRwDF3e5HXkm37QZWFz5FreH4cLRYdYnHIZyV9mzTH5tY/s640/blogger-image-721131065.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The last ride - Skadi was holding on to her pride of not screaming on a single ride. I convinced her it was fun to scream your head off on rides. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxo2noyXDSi_N2bDG5qbwMs89NeTvIQ5iJSx7RFVEcwcGNWqmW2mdsHKfUVjBos3dTgoXoamGCxVmOJBZtp12pjnTvIepCb1JPtVmVKPJO4N-rrz5FKcGYwAn47ofYBI4y1ys/s640/blogger-image--199282260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxo2noyXDSi_N2bDG5qbwMs89NeTvIQ5iJSx7RFVEcwcGNWqmW2mdsHKfUVjBos3dTgoXoamGCxVmOJBZtp12pjnTvIepCb1JPtVmVKPJO4N-rrz5FKcGYwAn47ofYBI4y1ys/s640/blogger-image--199282260.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Love the little old lady next to Leif. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJ0ToEod4PPvs864X7NlusJjRUD8-0ShLuUK6YzotRvUbzqzk5GBnmDZnU70dA7j_yyWxjTXy-PmpKllJJ_Wr3lWH6ImkpbmlIqn8S6N3XHKOxuwt3OnnnFtTcucRqn9UozY/s640/blogger-image--92192913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJ0ToEod4PPvs864X7NlusJjRUD8-0ShLuUK6YzotRvUbzqzk5GBnmDZnU70dA7j_yyWxjTXy-PmpKllJJ_Wr3lWH6ImkpbmlIqn8S6N3XHKOxuwt3OnnnFtTcucRqn9UozY/s640/blogger-image--92192913.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Front seat - but not solo as she wanted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWmIQf8-H-844woTMafQrIzP2ihhDEpn830gwfOzRA3zwIaQPfOO9LW7YUuryqBH30GelNGh2CmrnQW3MK9r1lCbxAJIeK15IZw7adhZzEt_IOq8O2sTSQ-aZYRGrc1KsZcQ/s640/blogger-image--1267182263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWmIQf8-H-844woTMafQrIzP2ihhDEpn830gwfOzRA3zwIaQPfOO9LW7YUuryqBH30GelNGh2CmrnQW3MK9r1lCbxAJIeK15IZw7adhZzEt_IOq8O2sTSQ-aZYRGrc1KsZcQ/s640/blogger-image--1267182263.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We did the Monster's Laugh Floor for Silas. Blah. Waste of time. Silas wasn't terribly interested. AB took Silas back to the hotel mid-day and me and the older two had fun. Space Mountain, Buzz Lightyear Adventure, etc. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglw9krfLR3JzjrVng7E96m0if45MPzX_9ou7PhTsPhh8e5Km3J9zSGdyPrskIIj49G4KrEbW_xmh5PNTKFZfQF70ZIwgdRERhysTsDn4dGJjvHpluvQ5jA1bgRoQcKoYXuRDU/s640/blogger-image-1130857228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglw9krfLR3JzjrVng7E96m0if45MPzX_9ou7PhTsPhh8e5Km3J9zSGdyPrskIIj49G4KrEbW_xmh5PNTKFZfQF70ZIwgdRERhysTsDn4dGJjvHpluvQ5jA1bgRoQcKoYXuRDU/s640/blogger-image-1130857228.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OooPIyT1l8258cAtoH0L1iF7MUVkMECOWxLKvZsPCQp0ADXKtoUc-gpJ4rPmFbpkxRYwgYbaRuocPoNsOn6SOGUevkYXSVIwbbNeDLu-3dcmoQbnbaFOnRxd3SEeoPh-k2Y/s640/blogger-image--211169320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OooPIyT1l8258cAtoH0L1iF7MUVkMECOWxLKvZsPCQp0ADXKtoUc-gpJ4rPmFbpkxRYwgYbaRuocPoNsOn6SOGUevkYXSVIwbbNeDLu-3dcmoQbnbaFOnRxd3SEeoPh-k2Y/s640/blogger-image--211169320.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoL-uDxFOH2KHYMnpQ7Mp2kkVkTdIk12Rm-tUmdkmDNyoMWS_Z5XFXxMqoe_5vLwwGa94tmUa3HOI8Zc1bA-Bd4DR_74agkv5KTOEKAdP93hjM845qTZLtFxSSagxgMsXKiOM/s640/blogger-image--1979545426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoL-uDxFOH2KHYMnpQ7Mp2kkVkTdIk12Rm-tUmdkmDNyoMWS_Z5XFXxMqoe_5vLwwGa94tmUa3HOI8Zc1bA-Bd4DR_74agkv5KTOEKAdP93hjM845qTZLtFxSSagxgMsXKiOM/s640/blogger-image--1979545426.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We all reconnected and did Pirate's, Splash Mountain (and the photo of me with the kids didn't come through, blah). AB wanted to do Space Mountain with the kids so we headed back that way. Teacups on the way. Then Silas saw it. HE COULD DRIVE A CAR!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfy7ikshMz4UwjMLp1p5TlEW14zWpd5OyzZy7qRtf1X3HClKqJdRY5TEWbd3-0_ZqyPevE01x9qv9ASf1zvDwmbyPXaH2owFG_wCC7s988BNoiKJUVxqBbPNXJRwgHsSXIDFI/s640/blogger-image-2080239964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfy7ikshMz4UwjMLp1p5TlEW14zWpd5OyzZy7qRtf1X3HClKqJdRY5TEWbd3-0_ZqyPevE01x9qv9ASf1zvDwmbyPXaH2owFG_wCC7s988BNoiKJUVxqBbPNXJRwgHsSXIDFI/s640/blogger-image-2080239964.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oXLaWoYNznJhl7LYNxdgEdZQaBZYOWymXs0j47sPaJ1VIscon-fwePbym9CjPpOni135LIXMll_LSC8_ONrswsTGwVasG-kU9H6gbWimjhp7-LF4hEXYYCcmz9gyZ3WgUTE/s640/blogger-image-1810488534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oXLaWoYNznJhl7LYNxdgEdZQaBZYOWymXs0j47sPaJ1VIscon-fwePbym9CjPpOni135LIXMll_LSC8_ONrswsTGwVasG-kU9H6gbWimjhp7-LF4hEXYYCcmz9gyZ3WgUTE/s640/blogger-image-1810488534.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVGxUrx3eSSx7VBoNAvD2G9wwJEc1EsvP-3w-gbEmJATvNgzoxyg5GogZoJzXLuEfL5aMWiM_QQF1iB9ozgjxwsb6PGamqQYpXwEe26apVYUcymJbybfid_2rvybyIrJ0Wsg/s640/blogger-image-1237282778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVGxUrx3eSSx7VBoNAvD2G9wwJEc1EsvP-3w-gbEmJATvNgzoxyg5GogZoJzXLuEfL5aMWiM_QQF1iB9ozgjxwsb6PGamqQYpXwEe26apVYUcymJbybfid_2rvybyIrJ0Wsg/s640/blogger-image-1237282778.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Not sure about the teacups. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD3lNPZ-wxW4o0Bc2fBE1NYOPzhcNvfg_ihUAn_2P6xExSYTM1dwYfmDhtFtvMyqMdfh1PBJZTYkfA5xZMxSvpEpmAbI2qSJq-JSn2WhacBAaJ3-erBLNleptNu0Nat3wnUA4/s640/blogger-image--1057668922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD3lNPZ-wxW4o0Bc2fBE1NYOPzhcNvfg_ihUAn_2P6xExSYTM1dwYfmDhtFtvMyqMdfh1PBJZTYkfA5xZMxSvpEpmAbI2qSJq-JSn2WhacBAaJ3-erBLNleptNu0Nat3wnUA4/s640/blogger-image--1057668922.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Still not sure. But not screaming!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGPPn4dLOEcbGFaLqtzNU-ZyLEx9RxnzU6KNyI_0VdCuRNYPVc1gbowkId1ABiIRn2hRBRcklDvmGDfUJ5RlqW21NYduBvExiBAVaAGxFO3WsC7seI8FsTnxssk8gZPMXORxo/s640/blogger-image--733802407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGPPn4dLOEcbGFaLqtzNU-ZyLEx9RxnzU6KNyI_0VdCuRNYPVc1gbowkId1ABiIRn2hRBRcklDvmGDfUJ5RlqW21NYduBvExiBAVaAGxFO3WsC7seI8FsTnxssk8gZPMXORxo/s640/blogger-image--733802407.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One of her favorites!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWnbZZ6RJsDxGOFyPIa7M_fQo8K2LmjG8Z_sbchVfa5xNP6el2XoYNkdsdaTvaRu9iIY8qMnM0nOcb3Tuv2IL1h8Ld0cTTCB2-UaiBDuTvBSVgD_PsMj2omxsv0rfofMRb9g/s640/blogger-image-671669550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWnbZZ6RJsDxGOFyPIa7M_fQo8K2LmjG8Z_sbchVfa5xNP6el2XoYNkdsdaTvaRu9iIY8qMnM0nOcb3Tuv2IL1h8Ld0cTTCB2-UaiBDuTvBSVgD_PsMj2omxsv0rfofMRb9g/s640/blogger-image-671669550.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-oAv22m6lpNVYpPvyQfyrNBTGa2JdmWTwil647jLha-kdrq4xLFy4TL9r-RkdWwwrRc07riBNYghUGFgB975RHayrCEmiVEAYJs4CwXjWFKMZlm4h0bmPgX_IEwZa256UIl8/s640/blogger-image-2016735663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-oAv22m6lpNVYpPvyQfyrNBTGa2JdmWTwil647jLha-kdrq4xLFy4TL9r-RkdWwwrRc07riBNYghUGFgB975RHayrCEmiVEAYJs4CwXjWFKMZlm4h0bmPgX_IEwZa256UIl8/s640/blogger-image-2016735663.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Silas' favorite. He was so excited to drive and about 20 second in the "Bang Bangs" started. Silas HATES fireworks. I am starting to wonder if he will ever like them, or forever have a fear. He was paralyzed and I had to lean over and drive us back while he sobbed in my lap. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC2XjIyN_Rnz0RmE8eLnkl0cL6Uclcj1bTbcw0lSMVD7LPvBR3djfvpbIcv7BJKiXKdA5XpQhLNZSLO6c5-JBsc9CxnTk3OiMCd9aejpnp4DztJKYph5PD_THiQV3EQnuhQ78/s640/blogger-image--243279690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC2XjIyN_Rnz0RmE8eLnkl0cL6Uclcj1bTbcw0lSMVD7LPvBR3djfvpbIcv7BJKiXKdA5XpQhLNZSLO6c5-JBsc9CxnTk3OiMCd9aejpnp4DztJKYph5PD_THiQV3EQnuhQ78/s640/blogger-image--243279690.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqq3NuXApNDpcxPrbpOIxZPeeuGRJtVEnvGuZOYelrP2cltSobLz0AjEMP-mzC8plL3BjASu5Nvy4ZChc8HbY83utmKeoCYYoMOy5IUR95_oL51yVNbMv751ufgLO0O732rlM/s640/blogger-image--1321767131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqq3NuXApNDpcxPrbpOIxZPeeuGRJtVEnvGuZOYelrP2cltSobLz0AjEMP-mzC8plL3BjASu5Nvy4ZChc8HbY83utmKeoCYYoMOy5IUR95_oL51yVNbMv751ufgLO0O732rlM/s640/blogger-image--1321767131.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The castle is really a site to behold as it cycles through colors. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYGroMrE9CcXiiminoWZTxeo_BNcldUR0YUklKWa11FPlz4CZ9peO_BelP2GG7xT4jqpc5gaQ4oC52uOTRNol-FoAG1iB2zGIzwxhbVD7VM-pAy1MgHg-cf9tUDHOaEgJmvA/s640/blogger-image-153343503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYGroMrE9CcXiiminoWZTxeo_BNcldUR0YUklKWa11FPlz4CZ9peO_BelP2GG7xT4jqpc5gaQ4oC52uOTRNol-FoAG1iB2zGIzwxhbVD7VM-pAy1MgHg-cf9tUDHOaEgJmvA/s640/blogger-image-153343503.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We cracked up to find out Olaf had photo bombed us. (Christmas Card photo)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4XNo9Tl9ioHbatW4wPSpsIcE1CeEteOhYZw6T6NdfUGAQemxxs4g7ENu9GUj2czjCSaGadFmak_IYQ9GnFZyTVHlZMul6GOb3DyGx0kEbIEhB4SqBSn7wnPaUtc8WHnXrzCc/s640/blogger-image--929571557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4XNo9Tl9ioHbatW4wPSpsIcE1CeEteOhYZw6T6NdfUGAQemxxs4g7ENu9GUj2czjCSaGadFmak_IYQ9GnFZyTVHlZMul6GOb3DyGx0kEbIEhB4SqBSn7wnPaUtc8WHnXrzCc/s640/blogger-image--929571557.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This was my favorite - loved that Silas was giving the thumbs up to the photographer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It was a late night, more so because I needed a Dole Pineapple Whip before leaving - at nearly 11pm. Tired kids. Back to the hotel to sleep. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One more day... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We slept. We were tired. The kids didn't get up immediately, our only constraint was our 10am FP for Soarin'. No problem. Figured we would get to Epcot, eat breakfast, have our day there and then get home early to pack and get on the plane early early the next day. Epcot is normally my and AB's favorite. Less so this time. The bus didn't come and didn't come and didn't come. I ended up MOVING our FP as we weren't going to make it. We stood and waited and waited. The intern kept saying "it's coming, it will be here in 3 minutes". He was wrong. We were starved starved when we got to Epcot finally. We hit Starbucks - not exactly the plan, but we were too hungry to find something else.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiESyHyz64B0mEmw4QXuhOttU-FnY5YWs_ZkY2lCPcL8f8og3e8W16tfQUJdUrUsVuBnsbVbPcnc-rpHS5tA8v7jxIH-W8M0iOt7PtpU-b6hdbsjiWgVohHUZ_relac7EJFLKk/s640/blogger-image-1975502581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiESyHyz64B0mEmw4QXuhOttU-FnY5YWs_ZkY2lCPcL8f8og3e8W16tfQUJdUrUsVuBnsbVbPcnc-rpHS5tA8v7jxIH-W8M0iOt7PtpU-b6hdbsjiWgVohHUZ_relac7EJFLKk/s640/blogger-image-1975502581.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">While we waited the kids found a lizard. It was entertainment at least. </div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We went to the Nemo ride since we did make that FP. They had redone the exit and added aquariums since we were there last time. That would have been fun had we not lost Skadi. 20 mins, no idea where that child was. I finally contacted Disney staff and they were all on the watch out for her. Finally, we found her, but after that I had a hard time enjoying the aquarium. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfFFHRmk_ulj2N9byJgwm0iT0m0MIZx9VSz8Na0-GlkUAfX_9Q8zGO7jnCtFcjQncjtA1AIKpPbuY2KnvGzvXWsBs6Yfy_RsdqJc85Qsh6C0bjdsKZN-MzIxOzVXnvF2A2Wzc/s640/blogger-image-2041941860.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfFFHRmk_ulj2N9byJgwm0iT0m0MIZx9VSz8Na0-GlkUAfX_9Q8zGO7jnCtFcjQncjtA1AIKpPbuY2KnvGzvXWsBs6Yfy_RsdqJc85Qsh6C0bjdsKZN-MzIxOzVXnvF2A2Wzc/s640/blogger-image-2041941860.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKJRRCpwAyJXEos6nVodgxwghyphenhyphenfT_nBt2Z1UyTp7WHhuSN6gxxKq9hUurj2AkdgyXyuuDe_YlhphiUoaZXyXkcQlzzh2nm2ODsF2gvhX30f4CKvE-glfXkmk86dEOWeBTPtk/s640/blogger-image-2133612299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKJRRCpwAyJXEos6nVodgxwghyphenhyphenfT_nBt2Z1UyTp7WHhuSN6gxxKq9hUurj2AkdgyXyuuDe_YlhphiUoaZXyXkcQlzzh2nm2ODsF2gvhX30f4CKvE-glfXkmk86dEOWeBTPtk/s640/blogger-image-2133612299.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This fish was staying put. Silas found a friend in him. "He says hi Silas." "He says I just sitting here." "He says I love you Silas!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuAUi4r2JBIo5GKwcWPY-Jj5cT5RmkjwVH5BdoGjsZfFxjdAR1tO7SMS7iq-6nk3Ro9s9VRo32U6xqYdWklXKjTsM6n16lmuxVDlyxSMFsuiKTIzpcOm6ARWKpbw7Lqrl5Hw/s640/blogger-image-1096771768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuAUi4r2JBIo5GKwcWPY-Jj5cT5RmkjwVH5BdoGjsZfFxjdAR1tO7SMS7iq-6nk3Ro9s9VRo32U6xqYdWklXKjTsM6n16lmuxVDlyxSMFsuiKTIzpcOm6ARWKpbw7Lqrl5Hw/s640/blogger-image-1096771768.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Leaving his friend. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_NELewblNAszhudJQ4GGOKY9D-h1HAsPE_wEPODJOSht0oL5rhDV4AIt4plLM5CbYxdiq8pY71FBATPYM4Q3hjsBr7lqXHr8PoB_fqUmUdQP0u80FgT2dKYA1Q0-AwowXnqQ/s640/blogger-image-1936510390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_NELewblNAszhudJQ4GGOKY9D-h1HAsPE_wEPODJOSht0oL5rhDV4AIt4plLM5CbYxdiq8pY71FBATPYM4Q3hjsBr7lqXHr8PoB_fqUmUdQP0u80FgT2dKYA1Q0-AwowXnqQ/s640/blogger-image-1936510390.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOl13tXy9lASIM9bttLb8ykLKj-WQ7tONlhzZDV2OvoZhJwq91emNGnDsa3zxYTwPhxd34TgmPxKeuCqUdcja32uOOTabCCBcKtc89QGKby8oBljImd3wzFGVtbgFg_HkQxE/s640/blogger-image-1615418838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBOl13tXy9lASIM9bttLb8ykLKj-WQ7tONlhzZDV2OvoZhJwq91emNGnDsa3zxYTwPhxd34TgmPxKeuCqUdcja32uOOTabCCBcKtc89QGKby8oBljImd3wzFGVtbgFg_HkQxE/s640/blogger-image-1615418838.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4qQ1wUgpLzdh4RAZNNKWdIUQUlpHHysFcmfeFWCgljkT3ChURwDS6hpXXMtLew8PwfVmpVrBPQjC7RRIyfAG8vHtKc1JNAV9o7_3qSUlHwpBnYe07H6KKP2y5-93nl0lLTTM/s640/blogger-image-548871981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4qQ1wUgpLzdh4RAZNNKWdIUQUlpHHysFcmfeFWCgljkT3ChURwDS6hpXXMtLew8PwfVmpVrBPQjC7RRIyfAG8vHtKc1JNAV9o7_3qSUlHwpBnYe07H6KKP2y5-93nl0lLTTM/s640/blogger-image-548871981.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoJYOZzDXSBQ3uNVJj1-giL5ru6kmF6iSaJ-CqmgcYByM0VwO1sGXLO_OQ5bVF29e9_PHNWQy2mwSKCLdzZSL8d475d-xTdmf4orNAju43vpMJfUjeXNShOf6YYGv3kfdwp8/s640/blogger-image-1329652748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoJYOZzDXSBQ3uNVJj1-giL5ru6kmF6iSaJ-CqmgcYByM0VwO1sGXLO_OQ5bVF29e9_PHNWQy2mwSKCLdzZSL8d475d-xTdmf4orNAju43vpMJfUjeXNShOf6YYGv3kfdwp8/s640/blogger-image-1329652748.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Spaceship Earth! So hokey - but a must do. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8z-dZzE7YM31xnyxWI7Sn_eq08m4pisW3R3sFR-QuyUUEVYtBvRC4FSyku82g7sJ7utIugM5zomV30IA51JVqQ1Oy6vtBB3UmBOBFO_-IXLPcN38IClLn-gDkhHX1ESG6IUk/s640/blogger-image--370081116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8z-dZzE7YM31xnyxWI7Sn_eq08m4pisW3R3sFR-QuyUUEVYtBvRC4FSyku82g7sJ7utIugM5zomV30IA51JVqQ1Oy6vtBB3UmBOBFO_-IXLPcN38IClLn-gDkhHX1ESG6IUk/s640/blogger-image--370081116.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLL3zOCkrvi5OjyfWx0kpsHPK_vXiUrhGIxE1Vaq8isL8ipE4XGkNDkHJQXFNyiasZ4FjiNudttLNCpiqAiF4SAe80tcEgZdZbBmghl6nstTqf3LeR8Ml89DGzTgHXfhxK20/s640/blogger-image-109936319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLL3zOCkrvi5OjyfWx0kpsHPK_vXiUrhGIxE1Vaq8isL8ipE4XGkNDkHJQXFNyiasZ4FjiNudttLNCpiqAiF4SAe80tcEgZdZbBmghl6nstTqf3LeR8Ml89DGzTgHXfhxK20/s640/blogger-image-109936319.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslQWH8M7astLjKwncUWNL9qSlBD2XWXXWTtQ_eRdbYJmIdsRMVPHoe5FkaR0LVckGjuVJ8qAG_sQWMLdqxhVyN1yz4wWzwCOgsTvW8cS6TBwwfsxvOuHJctAGu3hl52Vmyjw/s640/blogger-image--1687647737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslQWH8M7astLjKwncUWNL9qSlBD2XWXXWTtQ_eRdbYJmIdsRMVPHoe5FkaR0LVckGjuVJ8qAG_sQWMLdqxhVyN1yz4wWzwCOgsTvW8cS6TBwwfsxvOuHJctAGu3hl52Vmyjw/s640/blogger-image--1687647737.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We decided we were going to go to the left instead of the right entering the Countries Pavillion. Mexico here we come. Nachos and Skadi made a friend when she threw a chip in the water. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxS00sgrL9nXGZisqTUywOIkCOFasVEIOSeWnJMoOxX0kej-FfcLjMxSkJ4iCldf0YShPJ8PpH7aHjX119GLgMwOWnVIKBMKgtVBHHh1pkyt-oVVmdkqAmnP8StFt1wn1c7O4/s640/blogger-image--1470761325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxS00sgrL9nXGZisqTUywOIkCOFasVEIOSeWnJMoOxX0kej-FfcLjMxSkJ4iCldf0YShPJ8PpH7aHjX119GLgMwOWnVIKBMKgtVBHHh1pkyt-oVVmdkqAmnP8StFt1wn1c7O4/s640/blogger-image--1470761325.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A real NORWEGIAN sword!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxS00sgrL9nXGZisqTUywOIkCOFasVEIOSeWnJMoOxX0kej-FfcLjMxSkJ4iCldf0YShPJ8PpH7aHjX119GLgMwOWnVIKBMKgtVBHHh1pkyt-oVVmdkqAmnP8StFt1wn1c7O4/s640/blogger-image--1470761325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mORXCVxlN2fMsvX9BsuNPLelDPyMUuDcSdOeJe4QfQOP2gKm4oneeuRCv184IE-hAGjlkNY3zLoceyKFtkLX7nB_B68sIfAkaXWo5PwiFVwZjUYfMDn5IT8Pdxb-L8eEvj8/s640/blogger-image--451458213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mORXCVxlN2fMsvX9BsuNPLelDPyMUuDcSdOeJe4QfQOP2gKm4oneeuRCv184IE-hAGjlkNY3zLoceyKFtkLX7nB_B68sIfAkaXWo5PwiFVwZjUYfMDn5IT8Pdxb-L8eEvj8/s640/blogger-image--451458213.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Fell asleep. Dropped the sword. Mom back tracked and found a family carrying the sword that looked JUST like the one we lost. Knowing my son would be horrified and we would all suffer if he woke up without it, I went up to them and asked if they happened to have found that on the ground. Sword back and Silas was none the wiser. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKsvhmlkcZ-t9tsi7woy15g0rpgtSHK4yKHyWIoNAuQIEw_9DMKydGM0lL0IiSVEOkUYe-uyDyMRoc0zO2I2kz0nyXa7gyZYHTJq0eP2dwisTrrWaGIppe31K-3mbSqNerAMI/s640/blogger-image--1993996027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKsvhmlkcZ-t9tsi7woy15g0rpgtSHK4yKHyWIoNAuQIEw_9DMKydGM0lL0IiSVEOkUYe-uyDyMRoc0zO2I2kz0nyXa7gyZYHTJq0eP2dwisTrrWaGIppe31K-3mbSqNerAMI/s640/blogger-image--1993996027.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Skadi belly dancing at the Morrocan restaurant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitHLq4K08KRKEQrWDgbcCVTjplw6dqc0OonWwMiaY_its7jbAWBy4ohsexHCydDXCtGrDrQnhB9lOuVAaPoquNJI6pPZkaL-cGRaORgxWQwZS6PoX1AUZvelZLWChqtYPuFHQ/s640/blogger-image-660632218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitHLq4K08KRKEQrWDgbcCVTjplw6dqc0OonWwMiaY_its7jbAWBy4ohsexHCydDXCtGrDrQnhB9lOuVAaPoquNJI6pPZkaL-cGRaORgxWQwZS6PoX1AUZvelZLWChqtYPuFHQ/s640/blogger-image-660632218.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So we paid extra for a dinner package to the Candlelight Ceremony hosted by Neil Patrick Harris. Really cool. I loved the music. We eeked through it with Silas. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This ended our night and we headed back to the hotel. I stayed up and packed and at the crack of dawn the shuttle showed up to take us to the airport. I love Delta. I got to the Sky Miles calendar and he struggled to find us a better route home. But to no avail. Oh well. We flew home, Orlando, to LAX, to Salt Lake to home. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The dogs missed us. It was good to be home. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Now 3 months later and Leif is still begging to go back. Skadi is starting to speak fondly of the trip and isn't completely blinded to the whole trip by her less than happy experience on the cruise. We have recovered. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> </div><br></div>Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-19081241576634649632016-01-08T17:31:00.001-08:002016-01-08T17:35:22.290-08:00Vacation-ville Part 3c: Castaway Cay and the last day on boardWhere Cay is pronounced Key. It's an island in the Bahamas where we stopped the Friday before getting back to Florida on Saturday. It is a private Disney island that is actually pretty amazing. No one lives on the island, but it is manned by the staff on the boat. So the bartenders pick up their show and move to bars on the beach. The chefs pick up their thing and open a restaurant on the island. And they manage to set all this up in about an hour the morning we arrive. <div><br></div><div>It was a nice and relaxing place to hang out. No worrying about getting around, no worrying about being left behind, plenty of watercraft and a variety of activities. Unfortunately the day we were there it was still a bit windy (the night before we endured 70 mph winds that shut down the outside decks on the ship) and our glass bottom boat trip was cancelled and many other activities were cancelled as well. </div><div><br></div><div>That's ok. We hung out on the beach - steps from a bar and the BBQ pit. </div><div><br></div><div>The big adventure of the morning was when we lost Leif. We lost him, he didn't lose us. Apparently he knew where we were, but packed up his snorkeling gear and went snorkeling by himself! It was ok. He had a new sense of freedom while being on the ship. He stayed out late and did his own thing much of the cruise. Never mind that the entire family was looking for him!!</div><div><br></div><div>Silas enjoyed playing in the water. The beach sand was awesome, light and fluffy. The water was a bit cool. But it was a great day.</div><div><br></div><div>While I was off looking for Leif, Silas was hanging out on the hammock with Aunt Tara when SOMEONE made an appearance! RIght next to him! Heaven!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JOdJblHWFWU_xw6f1sAo5Oc-KRphpTEUznOohst1mXPYCSmm_HAFL9RU3Ivtl-ujUYx71oY2fSB5vSSEIkU81HGUfIEitmeZ5W4V6XEEP8zppwNEcwFrT_rlsyjFQI-UgL4/s640/blogger-image--1758506970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JOdJblHWFWU_xw6f1sAo5Oc-KRphpTEUznOohst1mXPYCSmm_HAFL9RU3Ivtl-ujUYx71oY2fSB5vSSEIkU81HGUfIEitmeZ5W4V6XEEP8zppwNEcwFrT_rlsyjFQI-UgL4/s640/blogger-image--1758506970.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwowIUT0RXKIiGlVD8CdIYBHdr4zf2PnZ20G1swwfOvWLk2mYk_PerLEPOO2mkyAW6Pa-xHEAtqly77KJ195wYmQWZEvwWfDro1Q-lK9zmPZsO48hxa5wdmyWhK3Sz62PMyJM/s640/blogger-image-943391132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwowIUT0RXKIiGlVD8CdIYBHdr4zf2PnZ20G1swwfOvWLk2mYk_PerLEPOO2mkyAW6Pa-xHEAtqly77KJ195wYmQWZEvwWfDro1Q-lK9zmPZsO48hxa5wdmyWhK3Sz62PMyJM/s640/blogger-image-943391132.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirccApgURuZsurTNaFQoRNuQKX5wylM2_cJlc9V1yQbSxvuOdrDFfDDI2Rird9aNTARyrtfr6_TP5BwZwxThxAMVeSuswvirDwinYdjdL55XIsJq3uyyaVYbZuMt5X55NRyew/s640/blogger-image--531172368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirccApgURuZsurTNaFQoRNuQKX5wylM2_cJlc9V1yQbSxvuOdrDFfDDI2Rird9aNTARyrtfr6_TP5BwZwxThxAMVeSuswvirDwinYdjdL55XIsJq3uyyaVYbZuMt5X55NRyew/s640/blogger-image--531172368.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Cousins Leif, Wesley and Otto</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitm1li32TjnJyevwpW1ZrCQ1i8AkM3WfyiUx8cWOGEjXsz9yuu1ROLPo847fwem6ZIzeW1-v4yKIyE3311ywwICvvEUMfnsEWotOshXJx5OYqg_Eo75O3BGaGbC6OKdXCoZIM/s640/blogger-image-1426714067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitm1li32TjnJyevwpW1ZrCQ1i8AkM3WfyiUx8cWOGEjXsz9yuu1ROLPo847fwem6ZIzeW1-v4yKIyE3311ywwICvvEUMfnsEWotOshXJx5OYqg_Eo75O3BGaGbC6OKdXCoZIM/s640/blogger-image-1426714067.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJG-CqvEKPxLbxO4YLRp3o8baLkJxcXeYLNE39ODmjyjV-kDplkyptU_XwnkFEAyV7Niw_Qeqx1Vfkxe1MCTeIh6PeGU1K9J9zPvDGW4Ev3LLF4zSq4dqzY3TkcUVb1E6WEn4/s640/blogger-image--1925367307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJG-CqvEKPxLbxO4YLRp3o8baLkJxcXeYLNE39ODmjyjV-kDplkyptU_XwnkFEAyV7Niw_Qeqx1Vfkxe1MCTeIh6PeGU1K9J9zPvDGW4Ev3LLF4zSq4dqzY3TkcUVb1E6WEn4/s640/blogger-image--1925367307.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Uncle Eric managed to retrieve a coconut. Silas is my adventurous one - he was totally willing to try. It was kind of gross (green). But we tried it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAjYfVo4uVFL9poJwAhuOGO9QidsO_dFqvSWmclRhsvke3nqK12Y9oEcfmtWTG75NoP3QSB0hM1uUxLC6bQ_UXw6WCTFlpMd5RAAJlekl_E_qfENNyQlLRZ88plBeltvTdD4/s640/blogger-image-85182481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAjYfVo4uVFL9poJwAhuOGO9QidsO_dFqvSWmclRhsvke3nqK12Y9oEcfmtWTG75NoP3QSB0hM1uUxLC6bQ_UXw6WCTFlpMd5RAAJlekl_E_qfENNyQlLRZ88plBeltvTdD4/s640/blogger-image-85182481.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But Silas was convinced that he was going to get coconut water out of every one he found. Stem, straw, same difference?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Once again it was an early return to the ship - 4pm. Then we enjoyed our last evening on board. Enjoyed means that I spent the evening packing our room up. Leif disappeared to the Edge and didn't return until late. Skadi and Silas played in the up bed and we also discovered that there was unlimited Disney movies on demand! Sigh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hans spent hours (might be an exaggeration) standing in line at guest services reviewing our bill. Remember that our glass bottom boat tour was cancelled? Yeah, well Disney hadn't. We also bumped up our gratuities to our server and a few other service providers. Our server rocked and having a sister in the food service industry makes me very cognizant of proper treatment of servers and being good patrons. It is a bit shocking when you see your automatic gratuity bill. But remembering that you are paying for eating out for a week for 5 people - one being a messy toddler - you just have to do it. Sure you can (and I am sure some people do) go and reduce your tip amounts to zero - I have seen on discussion boards people complain about the tipping practices. But from experience - they work HARD on a cruise ship. 7 days a week. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I also went and ordered a few pictures. Lots of opportunities for pictures on the ship and Castaway Cay - but the photo pass is crazy expensive (over $300). The minimum number of photos you could buy was 10. I kind of wanted either 3-5 or 25. I had a horrible time choosing 10, but I did it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXL5tpe9U37GZDgeWsl_ZdYNynsoOkVRDKk5FtRvMUxszBLy270BQaBPQDBpf7gJu1IQc3hVrskX394jz6pAmPXIWPBgJitqVInocUMzSyhN1ZsZWb9wQjlK-iwPY1cIW_I8/s640/blogger-image-1454869584.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXL5tpe9U37GZDgeWsl_ZdYNynsoOkVRDKk5FtRvMUxszBLy270BQaBPQDBpf7gJu1IQc3hVrskX394jz6pAmPXIWPBgJitqVInocUMzSyhN1ZsZWb9wQjlK-iwPY1cIW_I8/s640/blogger-image-1454869584.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Fhwv4HSCkZlCmd6B50bMqvPxjecl9TPCzd1EYEcee-oXnYKCXA_4Na0ZXoCghJqClQhNqAFklfHxJsmQA1q0vCpjCztyR1af4UOuNNcEUtgh1P-XmsmzY4MSAjH4VFdRvAk/s640/blogger-image-1977602140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Fhwv4HSCkZlCmd6B50bMqvPxjecl9TPCzd1EYEcee-oXnYKCXA_4Na0ZXoCghJqClQhNqAFklfHxJsmQA1q0vCpjCztyR1af4UOuNNcEUtgh1P-XmsmzY4MSAjH4VFdRvAk/s640/blogger-image-1977602140.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This one was a must do - even after 6 weeks, Silas still talks about meeting Anna and Elsa. I will also add that I am pretty sure they place them secretly in the dark forcing you into buying the professional photo because all your photos will be horribly dark. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppWs0lGu0DVrEu5_rBOECf7RK5VBAbOUsV4eOztbsHcJQqrmcSoZRabGDZcFDh49xBf26xnn9qYuhRrt3ilJhljTulwlbsF8WHzdo-IRunQSSd7b7ignW54gT-RuTapTfkuY/s640/blogger-image-287709062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppWs0lGu0DVrEu5_rBOECf7RK5VBAbOUsV4eOztbsHcJQqrmcSoZRabGDZcFDh49xBf26xnn9qYuhRrt3ilJhljTulwlbsF8WHzdo-IRunQSSd7b7ignW54gT-RuTapTfkuY/s640/blogger-image-287709062.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One of Silas' favorites. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMDcOQC1lhmRcAurR-pDV36rup_VO96JtQ_4a_196X71oHXtP1970MuaUOo2xoPPJMMH2-s4urXhymm_IvhNvqQ1BZPCPOEljH7_XYEuCOoGB2PyB-MmJVP_tGo869NxnnbA/s640/blogger-image--1527580344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMDcOQC1lhmRcAurR-pDV36rup_VO96JtQ_4a_196X71oHXtP1970MuaUOo2xoPPJMMH2-s4urXhymm_IvhNvqQ1BZPCPOEljH7_XYEuCOoGB2PyB-MmJVP_tGo869NxnnbA/s640/blogger-image--1527580344.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Getting ready to board in the port. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOznvIzamwThG4R6IkJ4MtiIxacxH1k23q_uknxZX8Y_dgxNBB8pFBcDhNlNpGvdAKBMhzxuNZJIS2oW_extiW-kn5fzCjGOfEC4cP4zCTkfTjc_n4AOlWzacg24O1vBYxEDk/s640/blogger-image--1522980391.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOznvIzamwThG4R6IkJ4MtiIxacxH1k23q_uknxZX8Y_dgxNBB8pFBcDhNlNpGvdAKBMhzxuNZJIS2oW_extiW-kn5fzCjGOfEC4cP4zCTkfTjc_n4AOlWzacg24O1vBYxEDk/s640/blogger-image--1522980391.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Our family boarding photo. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-cyEaU_yqemKkcH1iHItc9pAe8TfDFLDrus1WJ0TCVrZMLB_1Qe0GAagG9pIzX85nprqNoUbY7ZT6ZW6_MUoJYcwZmKCC1PFsou9E4KoAgo-IJURtpmNpSkeTDthBrtN0SM/s640/blogger-image--1342235093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE-cyEaU_yqemKkcH1iHItc9pAe8TfDFLDrus1WJ0TCVrZMLB_1Qe0GAagG9pIzX85nprqNoUbY7ZT6ZW6_MUoJYcwZmKCC1PFsou9E4KoAgo-IJURtpmNpSkeTDthBrtN0SM/s640/blogger-image--1342235093.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thanksgiving dinner. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71FuugltRWB90vVboxU898L_vp_3w3E44yZupvVixXH_eEH0W_yLnV1dJrz-bjvbKppScRm6xdFP7eKAgm8hVK4O6SLPau4exhqkXkoviQA7pmn9t0zIxmzm4YDC4fVMrsZI/s640/blogger-image--1410600868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71FuugltRWB90vVboxU898L_vp_3w3E44yZupvVixXH_eEH0W_yLnV1dJrz-bjvbKppScRm6xdFP7eKAgm8hVK4O6SLPau4exhqkXkoviQA7pmn9t0zIxmzm4YDC4fVMrsZI/s640/blogger-image--1410600868.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Aquaduck. Skadi spent loads of time here - it took her mind off the seasickness. And she and AB figured out where the camera spot was. They had some awesome photos! Mine with her wasn't too bad either. But I didn't buy it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHUkYDiLIOhPIutti7SZ98pGoJ6cMd8S1dc-__AmzlDTZdTcWBmg9pMwEY2LQ4tM3lu36VrfBFThpGfxOlF18KSjNWv1scEKhND6GmY5F0t5FzKopFY8sqrX1m8CcHcPZKOo/s640/blogger-image-1309219142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHUkYDiLIOhPIutti7SZ98pGoJ6cMd8S1dc-__AmzlDTZdTcWBmg9pMwEY2LQ4tM3lu36VrfBFThpGfxOlF18KSjNWv1scEKhND6GmY5F0t5FzKopFY8sqrX1m8CcHcPZKOo/s640/blogger-image-1309219142.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Not sure when this photo was taken, but I liked it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hgBw7bE_TIQoad3XeEyMSPIWWWuACtDkpU0PY3QFHhyGkktpSYNX-hY6cXRD55Tlf-vGAeA1KnB2m9W8NjknWNRMAOdhZqSwJp3Hu1y9MXkrIOWH-Do0MB8aa-XOeFt-18w/s640/blogger-image-2140978847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hgBw7bE_TIQoad3XeEyMSPIWWWuACtDkpU0PY3QFHhyGkktpSYNX-hY6cXRD55Tlf-vGAeA1KnB2m9W8NjknWNRMAOdhZqSwJp3Hu1y9MXkrIOWH-Do0MB8aa-XOeFt-18w/s640/blogger-image-2140978847.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This was one of my favorite character pictures. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtmRzv97bAR1lGnnqtDMBd-qPRstxmJyIx1X6MGPN0Yvw2PmOFAVpV9_WDsJBJEw_Dwz5auzzkZWjexGrSQCIKwkTeS4DXQ2gKFoqGTit8X02zf1c5qVkL0GfqGc5EbgL9Ioc/s640/blogger-image--553919341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtmRzv97bAR1lGnnqtDMBd-qPRstxmJyIx1X6MGPN0Yvw2PmOFAVpV9_WDsJBJEw_Dwz5auzzkZWjexGrSQCIKwkTeS4DXQ2gKFoqGTit8X02zf1c5qVkL0GfqGc5EbgL9Ioc/s640/blogger-image--553919341.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Skadi's favorite as a kid. I had to buy the Ariel photo.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Before long it was morning and departure time. Everyone had to be OFF the ship by 9am. They have the MOST inefficient method for picking up your memory key of photos you ordered the night before... I stood in line at 7am for about 45 minutes. We opted to skip the breakfast - our seating would have been at 6:45. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When you get off the boat and get ready to clear customs there are porters who offer to help with bags. TAKE THEM UP ON IT. It was well worth our money to have someone with a dolly to carry all our stuff through customs and to the rental car stand. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Finally, you are off, free! Back to civilization and on to the next adventure! Disneyworld for THREE days!!</div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-35473699711515159612016-01-07T22:10:00.001-08:002016-01-07T22:10:33.849-08:00Vacation-ville Part 3b: Snorkeling and Water PlayJust photos mostly. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;">St. Maarten beach play:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFJKGsoqjaHBdydr2MitYGCiI_0JCV9NhjsuSPElv0hhImPFjA_bYAgl76ta_FPMFZTADPRGUFi_vLmT7U3ndQbTZfdtFFL8DCO2Y72GWzkuegU-022pXSzm2B5LWbRkiaVNQ/s640/blogger-image--1490176101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFJKGsoqjaHBdydr2MitYGCiI_0JCV9NhjsuSPElv0hhImPFjA_bYAgl76ta_FPMFZTADPRGUFi_vLmT7U3ndQbTZfdtFFL8DCO2Y72GWzkuegU-022pXSzm2B5LWbRkiaVNQ/s640/blogger-image--1490176101.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQELaQrHgdxrIHypC1eY2UVxhV5ysmSQbzhBIilcFDkWfprvZ6PgZ9rZx_Wxm-tPyCX1a7FVS2EJX7TLHVQz_AK5elrOkSv3PKsIKafsnHH1vKKfaSGk6w9MUkHtf84fUhihw/s640/blogger-image-1304508356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdqQPii01X-C0rp5AYf0MoQyT1rpO2qy7zZEv95zYULMddlYfWVlGX9qC1F0iJo9enbE11GB56T9GyUeqOInDmc3yv00kGH7Z4h0ZsrILkseLo2d1IQDflWkKODZ5jfQFR-co/s640/blogger-image--1591813640.jpg"></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div><br></div>Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9119979.post-79247252468167920322016-01-03T20:25:00.001-08:002016-01-03T20:25:11.075-08:00Vacation-ville Part 3a: The Ports St. Maarten and St. ThomasI love visiting new places. And I was so excited to get off the ship and see some awesome new locations!<div><br></div><div>Our first port of call was St. Maarten. I was so excited to be off the boat that I got up early and went up on deck to get my first view. And it didn't disappoint. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKXROvNu1S-8gLVZXtYwgsQ88ak-g4SnChq_eaA9TqbThm_YuyqwUPrZsBGiwGzlGnW4MvdmEATi9OfTHIneRt3M8njMEwGaAPD3macCGIDQqwWH6anAXni9nyjSvUQkHIPE/s640/blogger-image-2020454610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKXROvNu1S-8gLVZXtYwgsQ88ak-g4SnChq_eaA9TqbThm_YuyqwUPrZsBGiwGzlGnW4MvdmEATi9OfTHIneRt3M8njMEwGaAPD3macCGIDQqwWH6anAXni9nyjSvUQkHIPE/s640/blogger-image-2020454610.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking back out to sea - lovely double rainbow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-haFS-b8wjSodparG32a1XmM0B-PJ_Dr3zHFo_EQpxCLQblBrOPK1NQbbCGGBspJykCSd7lZc-09nzDvNIFzRTWlTlh2GgST86dLo1VtbB7i-pV6S2f_GjUbvXhHYANOFnU/s640/blogger-image-1881786420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-haFS-b8wjSodparG32a1XmM0B-PJ_Dr3zHFo_EQpxCLQblBrOPK1NQbbCGGBspJykCSd7lZc-09nzDvNIFzRTWlTlh2GgST86dLo1VtbB7i-pV6S2f_GjUbvXhHYANOFnU/s640/blogger-image-1881786420.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Looking towards the port and the town area. We took a water taxi over to the beach and hung out with family on the beach most of the morning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoDvLy1CiOs_wwTan9nITFuomdck00krPg91xvCSoNycDCeVWWl-Kf9SHh41uDT8PdubaXeFohE6vryjlynG_dtBbkZCqHivNsTSDVcP87BvMh09k-wW6SxHXufs_VKxd77vM/s640/blogger-image--1325309281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoDvLy1CiOs_wwTan9nITFuomdck00krPg91xvCSoNycDCeVWWl-Kf9SHh41uDT8PdubaXeFohE6vryjlynG_dtBbkZCqHivNsTSDVcP87BvMh09k-wW6SxHXufs_VKxd77vM/s640/blogger-image--1325309281.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">See the lizard? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWDVbu2v-Ob0a0BB6QtWPrhpbG923VO5lOAUdbmQD9iYaBB-NagMpr9VLAzElxbD0GIrxQs2pgACs5LK8TK9uhn3si0jrqsvgeCcNxGEFg-byPMTdr3AW5v9I8K5ZZjtbZ2E/s640/blogger-image--759237070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWDVbu2v-Ob0a0BB6QtWPrhpbG923VO5lOAUdbmQD9iYaBB-NagMpr9VLAzElxbD0GIrxQs2pgACs5LK8TK9uhn3si0jrqsvgeCcNxGEFg-byPMTdr3AW5v9I8K5ZZjtbZ2E/s640/blogger-image--759237070.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Close up - the kids were freaked out at the number and size of lizards around. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8fY6HcQvbk9JNkl55aOmkeDW5Z9uQXZ1cd1bfs1pF-7EZrc5Vu1pOXDePmhLVim9cltQrrovQW21zzSciBQYozdpoWL2mzD3bzTC0af0_NdScWZAIUZF3jaII57NFsohYDQ/s640/blogger-image--106415913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8fY6HcQvbk9JNkl55aOmkeDW5Z9uQXZ1cd1bfs1pF-7EZrc5Vu1pOXDePmhLVim9cltQrrovQW21zzSciBQYozdpoWL2mzD3bzTC0af0_NdScWZAIUZF3jaII57NFsohYDQ/s640/blogger-image--106415913.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Beach girl. This lucky girl ended up with her dad's skin tone and manages to tan right up in the sun. We loved the beaches. Warm water beaches are an unknown to us all. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I had a massage on the beach, bought a few trinkets off vendors strolling by, and played in the water with the kids. Mid-day on St. Maarten AB and I decided we needed to see something of the island. We loaded our kids up, dragged a cousin along with us and went and ate a Caribbean lunch - the chicken curry was delicious and wandered some towns. AB bought some rum that is super delicious. Skadi scored free necklaces and charms off a variety of vendors misinterpreting us as people with cash to spend on jewelry in the tropics. Ha ha ha! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Before long we were hurrying back to the water taxi and to the ship.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The next day we docked in St. Thomas. We were determined to get away from the immediate port. We had checked out a few locations of interest. We wanted snorkeling and Coki Beach was high on the list. We found a private car and took off snorkel gear in hand!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Coki Beach was a fabulous selection. We got there early, secured a spot and headed into the water. Soon after Skadi headed in she came tearing out! THERE ARE FISH IN THERE! AND THEY ARE SWIMMING BY ME!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It took a lot of convincing to get her back into the water. We had dog biscuits to feed to the fish - they came right up to us!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This was one of my favorite experiences, snorkeling right off the beach, Skadi and I sharing a pool noodle to float with our faces in the water and pointing at beautiful fish around us. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Leif found snorkeling to be an activity he really enjoyed. His little observed swimming skills suddenly made an appearance and the kid was swimming all over the bay with his dad. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We caught a taxi back to the port - tourists being a serious competition for the taxi drivers. We tried to be fair with going with who we made arrangements with, but I know we ticked off at least one person. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Once back at the port we made a quick stop at the Butterfly house. That was so awesome. In Seattle at the Pacific Science Center they issue stern warnings about interacting with the butterflies. Here they just want to make sure no one walks out with them on their clothes or belongings. I was a bit paranoid about Silas - worried he was going to try and smash them. He didn't.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoQDkBsrODRc0uOlVCxkuiwaL-Yy7p0DTPS5BoDqpBpwftlnK83Mtn9_yg3owR_OwljzWvYi55RTBJDkhh11yIG8BWWtzW9WC_RzsuJ1GZeL0WbNXtkEuDuXic-YgrxqPB-w/s640/blogger-image--1453551358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoQDkBsrODRc0uOlVCxkuiwaL-Yy7p0DTPS5BoDqpBpwftlnK83Mtn9_yg3owR_OwljzWvYi55RTBJDkhh11yIG8BWWtzW9WC_RzsuJ1GZeL0WbNXtkEuDuXic-YgrxqPB-w/s640/blogger-image--1453551358.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Huge blue butterflies!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqbaLrK02HeAgPTgBqEcnDHiYrZSFb-fBRKdHqzkbQWN29J5hZRgxhap2l-MVXKAib35ixZGtLlajDgxLGmesVk6ShLieaXOvx1Eu_sbJfeRUkCyG9U6ewQh3QIujJ6w8QheI/s640/blogger-image-1983149123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqbaLrK02HeAgPTgBqEcnDHiYrZSFb-fBRKdHqzkbQWN29J5hZRgxhap2l-MVXKAib35ixZGtLlajDgxLGmesVk6ShLieaXOvx1Eu_sbJfeRUkCyG9U6ewQh3QIujJ6w8QheI/s640/blogger-image-1983149123.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgzPA-qgoYvl52y1bFGh2M6yDD0ag0hlVgIwqyjZBdvPUp-QIdKopT2aK8JLewsKdKK81SrKcNeY_w8ipWhy99lnWs30KWJ-nkHT50GMTHFMV8kOOip5B-2joxdAE8ZUj2dmw/s640/blogger-image--2047466710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgzPA-qgoYvl52y1bFGh2M6yDD0ag0hlVgIwqyjZBdvPUp-QIdKopT2aK8JLewsKdKK81SrKcNeY_w8ipWhy99lnWs30KWJ-nkHT50GMTHFMV8kOOip5B-2joxdAE8ZUj2dmw/s640/blogger-image--2047466710.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Butterflies loved Skadi!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQMYzPOm4zJSS_T3oZ1pyGuwi8xHMyDuk04lZfvtxSZ5ZGmcnnZCjedHHylQSdrgkA4DgV1NHWkuNs0Phwzbex4en5WSoXZajyP-N84aDhOtLdMtIlSg0K-2OMcrO48fwexw/s640/blogger-image-1351717940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQMYzPOm4zJSS_T3oZ1pyGuwi8xHMyDuk04lZfvtxSZ5ZGmcnnZCjedHHylQSdrgkA4DgV1NHWkuNs0Phwzbex4en5WSoXZajyP-N84aDhOtLdMtIlSg0K-2OMcrO48fwexw/s640/blogger-image-1351717940.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYv6Kr0XlI9TnGQziNNPvX3qwoOrmWroPk7-Sq7ouqb3WkiI0jSQoURI8z_V5qY-EllAZ44xvz6bo1OykRg3TjJtrAXgMgU852zah_RTPqtpLGLx6zNdB24rXi_513z3V5eo/s640/blogger-image-1614341866.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYv6Kr0XlI9TnGQziNNPvX3qwoOrmWroPk7-Sq7ouqb3WkiI0jSQoURI8z_V5qY-EllAZ44xvz6bo1OykRg3TjJtrAXgMgU852zah_RTPqtpLGLx6zNdB24rXi_513z3V5eo/s640/blogger-image-1614341866.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyB5QdLKF1tCy7kDeKTvnsEaBjoVIFdEBGOoQy5Jc10Zlv3zT88ML1nT9f1jipqMj_XvXPGZZALH6YL2R14pMH2mGGDBXw78gowh0M1Jkj12WSZa5gsmpevcwBzmGrt280hao/s640/blogger-image--605202707.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyB5QdLKF1tCy7kDeKTvnsEaBjoVIFdEBGOoQy5Jc10Zlv3zT88ML1nT9f1jipqMj_XvXPGZZALH6YL2R14pMH2mGGDBXw78gowh0M1Jkj12WSZa5gsmpevcwBzmGrt280hao/s640/blogger-image--605202707.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am not a fan of flying things. One landed on me. I didn't scream. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGYtjK3Ah5rfiC1Ru_zrM7FDRJNULkYSjGmqY_NgbZKpaGfs0_5ewWTWh0OTROZzk0WYqc7H0PcjFVsDQansVxSUaUjAjibtgEOmAO1tiA1qPzwupWZch73qFcX9okhQfhuM4/s640/blogger-image-657211445.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGYtjK3Ah5rfiC1Ru_zrM7FDRJNULkYSjGmqY_NgbZKpaGfs0_5ewWTWh0OTROZzk0WYqc7H0PcjFVsDQansVxSUaUjAjibtgEOmAO1tiA1qPzwupWZch73qFcX9okhQfhuM4/s640/blogger-image-657211445.jpg"></a></div></div></div><br></div>Castaway Cay is next... But I am tired. And I also need to figure out how to get those snorkeling fish pictures off the camera.... </div><br></div>Nuclear Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03114671912324328372noreply@blogger.com0