tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10252069041102748942024-03-03T00:43:45.494-06:00South of 38thCoop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-64006601571619738022010-11-07T18:09:00.007-06:002010-11-07T18:48:49.944-06:00Halloween<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHytCwqY2WFlG0P_MT52tWtFsHj-zHUkdvpcdFdavwJKcNYxmGSP8an7QpRLuFYAFBaIk_iyYzB1jvfInep5qWJm2luyQzKK431WCky7WUCq0cCI4HS3Q_qXpcLzdeVqGHsJpKaThxnwcd/s1600/IMG_0852.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHytCwqY2WFlG0P_MT52tWtFsHj-zHUkdvpcdFdavwJKcNYxmGSP8an7QpRLuFYAFBaIk_iyYzB1jvfInep5qWJm2luyQzKK431WCky7WUCq0cCI4HS3Q_qXpcLzdeVqGHsJpKaThxnwcd/s400/IMG_0852.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536968515698232354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The kids with their carvings</span><br /></div><br />Usually I enjoy this time of year. I like sewing costumes even if I do wait until the absolute last minute. I just wasn't feeling it this year, but I managed to muster up the strength to sew, sew, sew.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__6Ry99zanEjqZ6j7_kN0XU9BNIXHzJSILlJqNgwyfpPCA4CcZ9lp4bR5GzEVa19QrpDKaASxpy_vU3nHcxmKSO6l6pILgvRGfaoKjThO_Y6hVXEPW3cyKP8tTdu5svXkATYu7YR8vgSt/s1600/IMG_1539.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__6Ry99zanEjqZ6j7_kN0XU9BNIXHzJSILlJqNgwyfpPCA4CcZ9lp4bR5GzEVa19QrpDKaASxpy_vU3nHcxmKSO6l6pILgvRGfaoKjThO_Y6hVXEPW3cyKP8tTdu5svXkATYu7YR8vgSt/s400/IMG_1539.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536968154393750994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Ward trunk-or-treat</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrTIpIw2ss7ngauoWqfUVrG4UKMm6Deu5YMRx_IWspvkhYSkiRMwcViyNi3QfWjLoMnJkZC2qbLqOItIfN79Jgojt9N5tyHToqTPn3iBS-aGL25ZtTZNeg0jNqkk2-4kIt8HHMinOzL_9/s1600/IMG_1520.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 372px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrTIpIw2ss7ngauoWqfUVrG4UKMm6Deu5YMRx_IWspvkhYSkiRMwcViyNi3QfWjLoMnJkZC2qbLqOItIfN79Jgojt9N5tyHToqTPn3iBS-aGL25ZtTZNeg0jNqkk2-4kIt8HHMinOzL_9/s400/IMG_1520.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536965794627499538" border="0" /></a>Adam and Zach couldn't make up their minds this year. At first it was all about being an astronaut. It went from astronaut to ghost. Too easy, I thought. I already have the white fabric. Then it went from ghost to Ironman. The conversation went something like this.<br />Adam: We want to be Ironman<br />Mom: I thought you wanted to be a ghost<br />Zach: No, we want to be Ironman now<br />Mom: But I already have the stuff to make you a ghost<br />Adam: (pout)<br />Zach: (tantrum)<br />Mom: I'm not going to make you Ironman because I have started to make you a ghost<br />Zach: Then can we be the ghost of Ironman?<br />Mom: No, just a ghost, but how about a scary ghost.<br />Adam/Zach: That sounds like a plan<br /><br />(That is their new phrase for just about everything, "That sounds like a plan." )<br /><br />They weren't too thrilled about the idea of wearing a mask or anything over their heads, so we opted for white paint. Yeah, the do look a little like Michael Keaton in Beetlejuice, but they were happy.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ylw_DYwwThpi3XFmeKIoHtb9pOes2czCnT9bKZE6dSJlOrNMBm-iBB3rFfkRQxf4xEBdhsKHbjcuxADWT8yRJIq3osyI6L8bhowmdLogmKW3HDo1fthOaiV4uyaLdu63Aj40GN93TDgt/s1600/IMG_1519.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ylw_DYwwThpi3XFmeKIoHtb9pOes2czCnT9bKZE6dSJlOrNMBm-iBB3rFfkRQxf4xEBdhsKHbjcuxADWT8yRJIq3osyI6L8bhowmdLogmKW3HDo1fthOaiV4uyaLdu63Aj40GN93TDgt/s400/IMG_1519.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536967611677022802" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Adam's scary face</span><br /></div></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwuCFxBHwsDPzNv2A5hLJU2NxNKFtugMyEYrQNpN3bCJ4cy_ejmeXAAAM0b3a8eDdFIUhywA9uD2tO03Ul4MzcbY4XiZHXzQhGKiyG5ci0Hhocs7CENL9NK8iqMKtXsZwrLS4hq2BIX4H/s1600/IMG_1518.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwuCFxBHwsDPzNv2A5hLJU2NxNKFtugMyEYrQNpN3bCJ4cy_ejmeXAAAM0b3a8eDdFIUhywA9uD2tO03Ul4MzcbY4XiZHXzQhGKiyG5ci0Hhocs7CENL9NK8iqMKtXsZwrLS4hq2BIX4H/s400/IMG_1518.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536967603597902786" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Zach's scary face</span><br /></div><br /><br />Maren said she wanted to be an Egyptian Princess. So call the costume an Egyptian Princess or Cleopatra or whatever. I call it NEVER AGAIN. This costume was a royal pain in the.....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUi9CLMpsSphI5MMeoPi_ehcdfKcJ0Kyp3bY8OC05In7BNp2M8iknUmRYYF1vxIgA0NER15oLF9FSmB9IbLcdlrZUOcJKJH1lAA0c1WTINhkkYxW9eeaz61Y40-pGySd36Jh_rRU8uQD9y/s1600/IMG_1531.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 355px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUi9CLMpsSphI5MMeoPi_ehcdfKcJ0Kyp3bY8OC05In7BNp2M8iknUmRYYF1vxIgA0NER15oLF9FSmB9IbLcdlrZUOcJKJH1lAA0c1WTINhkkYxW9eeaz61Y40-pGySd36Jh_rRU8uQD9y/s400/IMG_1531.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536965797935562610" border="0" /></a><br />So here it is. The original Diva Dress. Hopefully she won't grow any over the next 10 years so I can get my time and monies worth out of this gown. If by chance she does, it'll be available for rent next Halloween. <br /><br />You have to check out the back of this too. Man, I totally outdid myself. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCsSmsyXKaRLnUkOStVRN4wrq-FTzG4jqbhc8ACr-C-M7bh0TDNIU85jBTLmy3SwktmCPK5QTCaPa7mayX22C-jvLlIXM4vHV4E1ur1TxAwBdn_LpagCf2z7k0eBQAM7mNGzVd2GqWOK3C/s1600/IMG_1513.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCsSmsyXKaRLnUkOStVRN4wrq-FTzG4jqbhc8ACr-C-M7bh0TDNIU85jBTLmy3SwktmCPK5QTCaPa7mayX22C-jvLlIXM4vHV4E1ur1TxAwBdn_LpagCf2z7k0eBQAM7mNGzVd2GqWOK3C/s400/IMG_1513.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536973643244934130" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUi9CLMpsSphI5MMeoPi_ehcdfKcJ0Kyp3bY8OC05In7BNp2M8iknUmRYYF1vxIgA0NER15oLF9FSmB9IbLcdlrZUOcJKJH1lAA0c1WTINhkkYxW9eeaz61Y40-pGySd36Jh_rRU8uQD9y/s1600/IMG_1531.JPG"><br /></a>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-82318850804910900602010-09-23T09:11:00.005-05:002010-09-23T19:15:24.441-05:00Some people call me the Space Cowboy<span style="font-family:Arial;">Ft. Hood is the Great Place.... or at least the sign above the gate says so.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><strong>"Welcome to the Great Place"<br /><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></strong></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I honestly have to wonder who coined that phrase. Ft. Hood and/or Texas and "great" are not words I tend to use in the same sentence.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">We have been here about 2 1/2 years now. I've been a good Army wife (not like the ones you see on TV - that is a far cry from reality). I have done my best to make the best of the Lone Star State, but I really feel like Gene Autry lied to me.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"></span></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">The stars at night are not <em>that</em> big and bright....</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">And I have yet to hear anyone say ki-yippee-yippe-yi<br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I know it's considered poor etiquette to openly dislike Texas while within her boarders. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><em></em></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><em><br /></em></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><em>Etiquette is a bit of stretch too. </em></span><span style="font-family:Arial;"><em>There is actually a dress protocol of Texas Casual (i.e. boots and Wranglers). Emily Post would not condone this.</em></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><em></em></span></div><span style="font-family:Arial;"><em><br /></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Anyway, an open negative comments about the People's Republic of Texas is like Spongebob taking on Sandy Cheeks. You might very well get karate chopped for it.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I have, however, become acclimatized to the harsh Texas conditions (yes, I shiver when the mercury dips below 93) and urbanized - which is ironic considering we literally are in Cowboy country; the most country thing we have done since living here is go to the Dairy Queen. My children have developed southern accents. Not to mention my country drawl is getting might thick as well. That is going above and beyond in making the most of 'where the Army sends you'. All that said, I just don't think I'll be embracing a longhorn any time soon.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;">~*~</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><br />Adam and Zach (who now insists his name is Zach E. Zach - future rapper?) have had a recent fascination with astronauts. Not necessarily stars and planets, just men in oversized white snow suits.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I blame Dwayne Johnson.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I really do love their imaginations, and most of the time I'm happy to play Spaceman and the Martian Mom with them. Maybe I shouldn't encourage all their misconceptions about the science - they believe space exploration to be a combination of Planet 51 and Toy Story - but to my own amusement I do.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">The other day Adam told me that astronauts don't sleep. He elaborated by telling me all about how the live in spaceshits <em>(no, not a typo)</em> and they work in the stars. Zach added to the debate by explaining that astronauts always work at night; therefore, because he and Adam were astronauts (or Buzz Lightyear, I forget) they shouldn't have to go to bed. It was late. I was tired. They won, but they had to look at the stars on their ceiling and the light had to be turned out.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">I suppose they really did have a compelling argument. If you think about it, it <em>is</em> always night in space. But spaceshits sounds like something contagious floating around NASA....<br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><em>Uh, Houston. We have a problem.</em></span></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-68775391451802405372010-02-10T12:23:00.002-06:002010-02-10T12:39:45.850-06:00Boys are just differentRaising little boys is far different than raising little girls - much different than I could have ever imagined. I thought kids were kids and they were all pretty much the same until they were old enough to know otherwise.<br /><br />Maren was never a girly-girl, but compare to the twins she was valedictorian of the Pretty Princess Academy for Social Refinement. The boys are destructive, loud, and messy. I did not know spitting and hitting came naturally. As does interest in all things gross from bugs to boogers. Lately it has been their fascination with everything poop that has my rolling my eyes.<br /><br />The other day I came home to find my husband - my 40 year old husband - sitting at the computer with a child on each knee. "What 'cha doin'," I asked. To my horror Adam replied, "We're finding elephants pooping."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Maybe "horror" is a bit of an embelishment, but I have creative license here. It's my blog.</span><br /><br />I shot Cooper a look. I know I did. A look that shouted what-the-hell! (Another expletive should probably be inserted here, but I'm keeping it rated PG.)<br /><br />He said, "Well, they wanted to see elephants pooping." Which was followed by giggles and other affirmation that Dad is awesome!<br /><br />And as it turns out, you can find video of elephants taking a dump on YouTube. (I was going to post the video, but I couldn't find the one they were watching. You're welcome to search for yourselves. You know you want to.)<br /><br />Dad is awesome. What can I say? I would have never thought to search YouTube for wildlife relieving themselves as an entertainment source for three year old boys. <br /><br />I swear I didn't teach them these things. I don't even recall making vroom, vroom noises while playing cars let alone tee-heeing about pachyderm poop. <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">By the way, did you know that when playing matchbox cars; trucks, motorcycles, and tractors make different noises? If you're playing with little boys it's very important to get that right. You will be corrected! </span><br /><br />I know, I know, boys will be boys, but when I tell people the twins were wrestling before they could crawl I get looks that say, "Exaggerating a little aren't ya?" Now I'm not talking Caine and Able. One was pulling the other back in during the delivery. Let's face it, the only birthright they were born into is about three-fitty and a collection of really bad jazz. <span style="font-style: italic;">Sorry, Coop.</span> But it's true, there were several cage matches in their crib. <br /><br />I always attributed other little boys naughty behavior and bad habits to daycare or older brothers that teach them bad things. I'm more and more convinced now wrestling and bath aversion is innate. <br /><br />Help me!Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-82925628482977962422010-01-03T15:17:00.010-06:002010-01-03T16:05:27.761-06:00ReDeployment, Christmas, and We're Three!!!<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFBRIyisHnD8pvx6YAgRhAT6SJSv7iI6XRVLjfjaouuntl6zvV-2I327qOD7iQOV-y_HkudwbCFwgs3T7dbjPQo9qBVm-6_iwHVQqMLCg02Dsiuy5SX2BfEpl4hZldbKyTmm1APpqHhv5/s1600-h/IMG_0217.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFBRIyisHnD8pvx6YAgRhAT6SJSv7iI6XRVLjfjaouuntl6zvV-2I327qOD7iQOV-y_HkudwbCFwgs3T7dbjPQo9qBVm-6_iwHVQqMLCg02Dsiuy5SX2BfEpl4hZldbKyTmm1APpqHhv5/s400/IMG_0217.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422629555145019042" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(Coop somewhere in Iraq)</span></span><br /></div><br />Finally, I can talk about it - or rather blog about it. Not that I really couldn't before, it was more that I wasn't sure it was a good idea to announce we were home alone for a year because Dad was in Iraq. But all that is in the past now. He's home! Praises, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">hallelujah</span>, 10 fingers, 10 toes (although I joke and tell him he'd be worth more if he came back with only 9), no major scars, etc, etc. He's home! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9nkUFLqYsXqPDVlX9zKHStdNb-xBeDmS8Fkitr6AhZPxqB2xkacx-BVCnHER37uSNLAC19xQC0HTokc3C2BkGSzo6sEIKHlsp_DEi_9Nv-cbgDEuWEQqrXrTlhB563064z-p9z7eLxTH/s1600-h/1STCAVHOMECOMING+013.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9nkUFLqYsXqPDVlX9zKHStdNb-xBeDmS8Fkitr6AhZPxqB2xkacx-BVCnHER37uSNLAC19xQC0HTokc3C2BkGSzo6sEIKHlsp_DEi_9Nv-cbgDEuWEQqrXrTlhB563064z-p9z7eLxTH/s320/1STCAVHOMECOMING+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422628527372820546" border="0" /></a>I was notified that he was coming home with the advance party and we decided not to tell the kids. Why? Well, the Army has a funny way of changing our plans and we also thought it would be pretty fun to surprise them. <br /><br />The day he arrived I got the kids up at 0'dark thirty (or around 05:00). The boys weren't too thrilled about getting out of bed that early. Maren didn't fight me. I told her the night before we had an early appointment and I needed her help with the boys. Anyway, we drove to the parade field and waited....and waited...AND waited. We got there around 06:00. Finally around 6:40 we saw the convoy of flashing lights and buses. By this time Maren had figured it out. I asked her how she knew. She told me, "Well, when he left it was dark too and you're wearing makeup." What a smartypants. I asked the boys who was on the bus. Zach, serious as could be said, "Santa Clause?" I said, "No. Daddy is on the bus." Adam argued, "No. Daddy's workin in 'raq." I said, "No. Daddy's coming home." At this point I was in tears and the soldiers were in a HUGE formation on the field. Like all the other wives, I was freezing and desperately trying to search out my soldier. When the command of "CHARGE!" was given he made a bee-line right for us. Whew!<br /><br />So glad to have him home!!!<br /><br />We had an awesome Christmas, but the only thing that really mattered was that daddy was home. I got exactly what I wanted!!! And the kids did too - spoiled. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK2r2nBzovB-h3M58RxM1Tr5hizANvLtVXW7RnkWCdimrgEzbRqpezg2mr-kDG5HAEAt78BK3QdXfHZuAm0nJK77NRwR75koWWs7yf6XDaO4xYYAK04zzlDOAWAj7M6pxLDpcVw7G6QdsW/s1600-h/IMGP2040.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK2r2nBzovB-h3M58RxM1Tr5hizANvLtVXW7RnkWCdimrgEzbRqpezg2mr-kDG5HAEAt78BK3QdXfHZuAm0nJK77NRwR75koWWs7yf6XDaO4xYYAK04zzlDOAWAj7M6pxLDpcVw7G6QdsW/s320/IMGP2040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422628284091388882" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7yKR1sPQZbkrRqozMSPWMuGv49a-oXoaXY6-zB-HkK38B4jdn5JDk4VCqLrYM7CVSGksx6RQjzn77szCnHwTo6fgd-cwvd7d4LNCxrAiGWsnq3Os1uYbYoCUzJqz9uhVbTWSxSkehtX-/s1600-h/IMGP2072.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7yKR1sPQZbkrRqozMSPWMuGv49a-oXoaXY6-zB-HkK38B4jdn5JDk4VCqLrYM7CVSGksx6RQjzn77szCnHwTo6fgd-cwvd7d4LNCxrAiGWsnq3Os1uYbYoCUzJqz9uhVbTWSxSkehtX-/s320/IMGP2072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422627790161641458" border="0" /></a><br />Maren got a pogo-stick (she's actually pretty good on it) and a Karaoke machine for her bedroom. <br /><br /><br />The boys wanted DSes. Santa said no, but did get them Leapsters. They call them "my DS" and have almost gotten the hang of it. And of course they got cars. More and more cars for me to trip over. Have you ever stepped on a matchbox car barefoot? It hurts!<br /><br />It was the best Christmas ever. The only thing that could have made it just a little bit better would be to have family closer. I guess that's just one part of being a Military Family I will never quite get use to. There is always next year....<br /><br /><br />HAPPY NEW YEAR & HAPPY BIRTHDAY<br /><br />We must be getting too old to really care much about ringing in the new year. Coop and I are generally asleep by 11:00. In fact, I cannot think of a single New Year's Eve that he and I have "partied". We're not much of the partying type I suppose. <br /><br />New Year's Day really doesn't have any special significance at our house for being resolution season. New Year's Day isn't really anything at our house because January 1st in Adam and Zach's Birthday. Hard to believe my handsome two-some are three-years-old. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglFtL60xJIrZERTZSRQb6TolSVXBtAagfQlwvsjeORB2v4IICjDOr24MPpUNiIMBs8hkzDa8LxTHx3ztvGL1cZMVKGzCgts9jrAaE2dEhywuWzx6GNooXvWmUN3Z3hOacUoD-27lYopg0p/s1600-h/IMGP2081.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglFtL60xJIrZERTZSRQb6TolSVXBtAagfQlwvsjeORB2v4IICjDOr24MPpUNiIMBs8hkzDa8LxTHx3ztvGL1cZMVKGzCgts9jrAaE2dEhywuWzx6GNooXvWmUN3Z3hOacUoD-27lYopg0p/s320/IMGP2081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422627434683878162" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I just love these little guys. They keep me laughing and keep my busy. But why I do fear 2010 going to be a year of mischief and mayhem at the Cooper home? <span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-14255727812257081172009-11-01T23:39:00.015-06:002009-11-02T21:17:52.976-06:00Happy Fall Ya'll<div><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8n1KRmViQe3DgaW_ml0uqVbMOCvoz3UlmSNn0I9yilQXkAso0oRfraoLAvIbbTX5TvyT4NMA1ZYcJ2-NB4j3WyhuU-stNiWmBJuyhGINuCUWMutv3Ga_mhhNX4Z9F-n8fZpBorBWaNKyY/s320/IMG_0879.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399377206878329106" border="0" /></div><div>Once again I'm over due to update. I'm going to try to cram a lot of things into a short blog. Ok, probably not. I'm probably going to put up a few pictures with a few not-so-clever captions and call it good. That sounds more likely. Besides, Blogger is being stupid tonight. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I want to say that October has been more hectic than most months, but I really don't think that is the case. Every month seems to bring on it's own unique challenges and it's own highlights. Here are a few of our October highlights. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;font-size:13px;" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;font-size:13px;" ><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_fyWpxTMMHIn-6Xk77kNC_doYKf03H0L1pYvLnJ_jOx69DiAOw5TqCmRjxEVDjZv7J4kcyLbpIk1jnN59yE75seWoN7a-V1QrQev3WoxbWwstVcinQVg0VbB3RDJ2ncL3y-aA5Whfssx/s320/IMG_0987.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399377594889915682" border="0" /></span></div><div>We got to spend time with Grandma and Grandpa early in October. That was a lot of fun. Rather than spend another boring weekend deep in the heart of Texas, we met up with them in Houston and then drove out to Galveston Island. </div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately most of our "vacation" time was cold, rainy, and leaning on the miserable side. We got to spend one morning in the Emergency Room and one evening at the mechanic. Yea! I was asking for a vacation do-over by then. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's hard for me whether to tell you the island is nice or not. They have done a remarkable job cleaning it up after the mess from Hurricane Ike last fall, but it was pretty gray and gloomy while we there there. We did get to spend a few minutes on the beach, but I wasn't about to let the kids go in the water.</div><div><br /></div><div>We went to the aquarium at Moody Gardens and ate some great sea food. Ralph really dug into his lobster bucket at Joe's Crab Shack. I enjoyed walking around in the historic district looking at the restored homes. It's amazing these old homes have survived all the storms. They have been restored and kept beautifully. </div><div><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQbMHe-tAGBLKq8aam0yqMWf041Xx4_7bgqhtfTfE29laUsYBMEVuNXomhqRLL0cEhsa2o7bpcnqqyEhgublXiTYRMoWSc6F4XMDOQafmGCr7kfBqdJ5cCXQKjjMq49uQtEepuN4-b6qzu/s200/IMG_0875.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399379455545047314" border="0" /></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA1OdspLMwfUNlJdn3-IBiFQTz2BNzmZkveQeSfXpxvoGI0-Ky6MxuUflSWdPSA2Pc4a75JuF6TgLar0V5ddoDxChO2mQCKeDSxNaV1LGNDZv04aulNIIPk-8palRQqfgMA8daFOwrpYGb/s200/IMG_0904.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399381333776511602" border="0" /><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRiiB8tDoaplvJf3djfy-NzLg7tcn2AeNx0R6Y4ErgQTeDbQfnjlwZg7SQnOBKAD4b5BsGB8R7ssVnlWyoD9TrUYnkNw-4FV_HZ4vLaUXIR1KRjLSJUaCWG91yk8KE2S9gv3obzFXua2Ag/s200/IMG_0908.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399381339282676130" border="0" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(a couple of my favorites. I was going to add more but blogger is being stubborn)</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The absolute highlight of the trip was crabbin'. Yes, we took the kids down by the ocean into some lagoon to catch crabs. There is no experience like watching 2 two-year-old boys and a 9 year-old girl get so excited about catching a crab with a chicken leg tied to a piece of string. Of course, there is also nothing quite like having your children run up and down the beach announcing "My mom gots crabs!" either. Maren and Zach were so excited about catching crabs (this was the day before the emergency room visit so Adam wasn't enjoying himself nearly as much).</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRy46MfpYzBHrIeZdjIu7-weRqjjVohjZzwMS-NIVD03SQXHhSB5uI0dEXbIqJjeFwpV1T5_WnVIIVB7M8hD08x-CMMZ3Cft3KEcsjdoJQLppMB4MDEthhDUUd7YDfx0eVyU3QM48iOdin/s320/IMG_0918.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399388200061912418" border="0" />Thanks Grandma and Grandpa for giving us fun memories --- and for giving us crabs. :)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>HAPPY HALLOWEEN!</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>Another Halloween has come and gone. I thought I better post this years costumes. The kids weren't too thrilled with what I came up with for them this year. I asked over and over, "What do you want to be?" and never got an answer so I was left to my own devises. This is dangerous. My children do not appreciate my sense of humor. </div><div><br /></div><div><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL50wa-axbfgK5Ho7CTfweTopnurPkEijiAHvmmzCyBZnwby9v-v6aGJ2wA-IARSESdj0ufslNsUR9_tNB6WZWEyd5beeM9JVUj8T5_sTi7keJR7P3y_J6GjMRufLwAGeziSc6ZxEJDuDO/s320/IMG_1005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399382431927488882" border="0" /></div><div>So here are my little felons. Obviously you can't see their backs but each one had a Not Guilty plea on the back of their shirts. Maren's said, "It's not my fault"; Adam's said, "Didn't do it"; and Zach's said, "So innocent". </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>It wasn't so much the black and white gear that got my gang in an uproar, it was that I made them trick-or-treat like this:</div><div><br /></div></div></div><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyogJw_GTA1irMbi4tuKS6m1A_adnsVaYAnOXg6ZTnTnSohXGnIqI9QqM_y8_VPYpv4Qek1yHkz9I6XE3GdSq6Gp6Vm8c3QFeg74GiLfvRSucQRkGPdtoL2BuUy5ATv9rL7mZLTHi0E1Ax/s320/IMG_1019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399382435493112066" border="0" /><br /><div>Yes, they were a chain gang and not happy about it. The kids might not have appreciated the humor, but most of the parent we passed on the street sure did. <div><br /></div><div>Maybe next year they'll have answers when I ask them what they want to dress up as. :) </div></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-90152445114785184162009-09-18T17:26:00.004-05:002009-09-19T10:18:36.191-05:00I haven’t updated my blog in, like, what? Forever? So much of my free time is wasted on FaceBook now that there are days I completely forget I have a blog. I actually had to do a password recovery today. Lol<br /><br />Funny, amusing, and interesting things do happen. When they do I think to myself, “I should blog about this.” But then I don’t and inevitably I forget what happened or why it was funny or even interesting for that matter.<br /><br />Life has been happening all around us. Maren went back to school – 4th grade. She told me that next year, she would be smarter than I am.<br /><br />Ok, I’ll bite. “Why is that, Maren?”<br /><br />Her response was pretty clever. She had concluded that she will be smart than me because next year she’ll be in the 5th grade, and she heard me miss a COUPLE <span style="font-style: italic;">Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader</span> questions. (In my defense, I totally rock that game! I have NEVER gone out on a 4th grade or below question, but will admit I’ve been stumped on some 5th grade history/social studies questions (not my strongest subjects)).<br /><br />She is growing up too fast. Soon enough, she’ll know it all.<br /><br />The boys keep me busy, busy, busy. I’m amazed at how their little minds work in sync.<br /><br />Have you worked with someone that speaks another language. You hear them chatting in the other tongue and you just <span style="font-style: italic;">KNOW</span> they are talking about you (more than likely they aren't, but....). It’s the same with twins. I hear them talking – half English half Twin. I <span style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW </span>they are plotting against me. I think it goes something like this, "Jabber, jabber, jabber. This is really going to piss Mom off. Jabber, jabber..." <span style="font-style: italic;">High Five.</span><br /><br />There was the time they flooded the kitchen counter by turning the faucet from out of the sink and onto the counter top. To the running water they added about a half bottle of dish detergent. Why? Because they wanted to make bubbles. To their credit they were successful. Very successful in fact. Bubbles on the counter, bubbles on floor, bubbles in their hair, bubbles on my stack of bills, bubbles, bubbles everywhere. All my creditors got a payment with a fresh lemon scent. Or the time the fire department was called to our house because they locked me out – again. They could have unlocked the deadbolt, but they were having too much fun making sand paintings out of salt and pepper from the shakers they emptied on the floor.<br /><br />I can't get angry with them because every time they do something naughty they recover with something so darn cute. Most of the time they are rather sweet little boys, and more often than not, they are the ones entertaining me. A week ago they were eating their Dora the Explorer yogurt and I could hear them singing the Dora theme song, “Do-do-do-do dah yogurt! Do-do-do-do dah yogurt!” LOL. Another time I asked Adam what he wanted for lunch, peanut butter or tuna fish sandwiches, Adam wanted “peanut butter sammiches and grapeths”. To which Zach chimed in “No, no peanut butter! I want gold fish sammiches….. and grapeths.” I can barely keep a straight face with some of the answers I get.<br /><br />And Maren really does do her best to please me. They boys idolize her, which means they'll probably be smart than me too.<br /><br />I guess I should enjoy my last year of smartness as it seems my children are plotting my demise. Unless I stay one step ahead, my reign as Queen Bee in Cooperstown shall be overthrown by this time next year by 3 little smarty-pants. I’d better start brushing up on US History, and try my darndest to learn a new language.<br /><br />Wonder if Rosettastone makes course for Twin…Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-79545922777389160942009-08-16T22:57:00.000-05:002009-08-16T22:58:23.506-05:00I really need to update this....but I don't have anything to say. :(Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-75661597082761492542009-07-04T16:10:00.006-05:002009-07-04T16:42:40.710-05:00One HOT SummerIt's been too long since I have updated our blog. <div><br /></div><div>We are hanging in there and trying our best to avoid the heat. One-hundred-five is just too dang hot to do much of anything - we spend a lot of time in doors. LOL</div><div><br /></div><div>I've posted a few pictures of us doing our best to beat the heat. </div><div><br /></div><div>And before you ask, we do having indoor plumbing and no, I don't force the kids to brush their teeth outside. You'll see....</div><div><br /></div><div>(mouse over the pictures to view larger)</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><div style="width:480px; text-align: center;"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://w293.photobucket.com/pbwidget.swf?pbwurl=http://w293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/8963aaf6.pbw" height="360" width="480"></embed><a href="http://photobucket.com/slideshows" target="_blank"><img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn.gif" style="float:left;border-width: 0;" /></a><a href="http://s293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/?action=view&current=8963aaf6.pbw" target="_blank"><img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn_viewallimages.gif" style="float:left;border-width: 0;" /></a></div></span><br /></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-81063446722320005122009-05-08T10:54:00.004-05:002009-05-08T10:56:18.666-05:00....and so it continues.<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0_hHywbDJcHqkVVafYenkuxQwh5kHJ8OBTMu1r7mzG0TIdYksNDZuDhyEITZQ3Ih7b1hFo9LTDQTLbGTwCN3Kjqs8bPQCUjiYqtA7JSwgN0kT4Ym1e_c9TURnPblwH9aUvOwJ7bRD0wp/s1600-h/100_1416.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0_hHywbDJcHqkVVafYenkuxQwh5kHJ8OBTMu1r7mzG0TIdYksNDZuDhyEITZQ3Ih7b1hFo9LTDQTLbGTwCN3Kjqs8bPQCUjiYqtA7JSwgN0kT4Ym1e_c9TURnPblwH9aUvOwJ7bRD0wp/s320/100_1416.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333482360440605234" /></a>Look who I found getting in trouble AGAIN this morning....Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-566046364975879532009-04-21T16:15:00.020-05:002009-04-21T18:51:53.217-05:00I am thankful....<div style="text-align: justify;">Don't let the title throw you off. This is not a first Sunday testimonial, but it is a testament to things I am so grateful I have.<br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So my twins have been absolute terrors lately. Everything and anything they could possibly do to aggravate me, they have. It goes so much further than the usual wrestling, fighting, biting, and hitting too. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It all started last week with Agent Cool Blue. </div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19Aw3Zg8yqS1gDkbFnDJPTuJ3ZKlPxLVC3NjEQ5GZXqBJAORJ9ChH6y1h-sQs5u8tkjxphFW6i8ir2X9rqKHb74X3OMQfgpT_YEsAg6ngouzORJKYwqlhm3laUV1MO2fl2rzl4NGBGLxa/s320/Agent_cool_blue.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327266214121982610" /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Although I actually like this product as it is very useful in teaching an almost 9-year-old how/where to brush. It doesn't however come out of carpet well. I went into the bathroom to find the entire bathroom (no, not just the sink, but the floors, tub, toilet, and towels) all a nice shade of royal blue. Oh yeah, the twins were also blue - head to toe little Smurfs. I am thankful it washes out of clothes. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In case you are wondering, yes, they did smell minty fresh....</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Next they decided to go skating (or something like that) in the kitchen when they poured a dish of mash potatoes and gravy on the floor. They thought it was really funny to slide across the room. Me? Not so much. But for that I am thankful for super sham type towels which not only carry 10 times their weight in water, but also in gravy. Who knew?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 292px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifp3-Akgl5LES5IIwOwOI346kTThxc3KMsv8xUzGIMPxfJk9XgSwN7hVVRsmts5nM4MDHtUdlvl9MJnroAMCy-bcGycfIp1NxJaOb-ozURBRaQ5YnHwRW-p_QX1KQhIyqS9GARG4Y4WLnd/s320/sham-292x300.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327266975445693090" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(Thanks, Vince.)</span></div><div><br /></div><div>It also makes me thankful for linoleum and my Hoover Steam Vac. Not only does it work wonders on carpet and upholstery, it scrubs the he** out of kitchen floors. I don't know how you manage if your a mom and don't own something similar. <br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAl4Io4-WdtVSciK_ncy-qrA3YPUQNhOMgQ3kSDzX7iklrCCJc23T6jl-PJ_2kR7ZHi6Q2IBM69kJqSF8ayeuioi_AZexR_VGeWM-U-N57vYDDu7Z7b_94mqfTQIfQf6ODVTrKDGpHZan/s320/carpet-steamvac.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327264121279186498" /><div style="text-align: justify;">Mm? Two little boys that now smell like chicken anyone?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So moving on. The day before yesterday they broke into big sister's room. They know they can get into all kinds of trouble in there. The item of choice --- Perler Beads. Imaging the excitement... 5,000 dumped.<br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qA-uJ2bCpuHWUcZrsMOgakYLxDTTzPzU9n_ixiAl3RvEJp0JdPS7mBJDAMsV_nryp9Y5wNMTA2lIcFdl-IBBT1eu7PCHm9IiG-yK7PiYJ2WibknPOmTAXOYB1jm4Eljamf4w4Xo2_Hta/s320/42788.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327264587233754354" /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Love my Eureka!! </div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiCsP0ns4A1-tDXSg3KC9ilb2T9bOqdRnQUnvR1Y0B7qK0BuQ-L-92JZBLGGtiiCr9wdIFjFfaQbyhqWY1d4Ve4d1rxeyGjhHmRhA6puuf2d7VWEotf4qRmLxaTAI4-2_WeUPuY9VV9a-h/s320/31VYAIrGLZL._SL500_AA280_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327265115374066290" /><div style="text-align: justify;">And today I put them down for a nap, or so I thought (joke is on Mom). When I went in to check them I found my new bedspread and carpet being moisturized. Oh no, not with water, but lotion. And not just any lotion, the really good thick Eucerin-type. Two entire one-pound tubs emptied on my bed, floor, bench, table, and of course each other.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another good reason to own a steam vac. I found it takes <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">very</span> hot water to get lotion out of carpet. But, the oil in the lotion does help pull out the Cool Blue. </div><div><br /></div><div>Also, so very, very thankful for a husband that let me buy the highest capacity washer and dryer. I am hoping the hot water will also take lotion out of a king comforter.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia_HFkZFDoC_fsonRc6u4_cUzfDNG7nYu5Xd0U8ZGVZaQnCOUGm1AndjvSz0D_eEAeZbVJ7_3RGUqQtyCUhu-05WM4_RfqNwGO4PMnAYGzFzU2lsu-g1jHEYGHokPtH4g8ln_v1VqfM6gQ/s320/02_lg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327265848279112178" /><div style="text-align: center;">Ugh!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Tonight I think I shall be thankful for hot bubble baths<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFnQBCrRwcfhQBKVBE6Tm2ENCVbmbUkoIoMUO53xOwpTjbn_pGAM-oYybfxxyysGJwFQwdqCmdmRRNuiJA8mUUaotR1NTJtpl3axn0FXD9y7Co2LDmEIzTfR49Ri1_0ltOcBdiJDuY7o1/s320/rose-petal-bubble-bath-771063.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327268898855995858" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">and Children's Benedryl. <br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6-EGKUdX99x0mtzdQGVhNe659cH7-_IjrBoYBcQLBKqoJJwUZECOHgSwf1JW07zDL_STvg3Y4x978mO6HZUHL-_51FmhetJ5T9cdlNTbQ2goKwUmpe3mgjN3sQ5kSOcoXSFWy1Rd8JXom/s320/B0006IJA0W.01-A3CDPEGSIQM61V._AA280_SCLZZZZZZZ_V65977996_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327269638008471026" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-32586618940544438822009-04-02T00:26:00.003-05:002009-04-02T00:37:08.262-05:00MR DucksThis picture is actually from the Dallas Zoo kiddie area. The boys are watching ducks. Most of you probably won't get this, but I just can't help but laugh. I'm imagining the boys conversation and thinking about silly notes Dad use to leave.<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0088.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>MR ducks</div><div style="text-align: center;">MR not</div><div style="text-align: center;">OSMR, CM wangs</div><div style="text-align: center;">LB, MR Ducks</div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-76289140287845169682009-03-22T17:08:00.005-05:002009-03-23T09:16:48.141-05:00Trip to Dallas<div style="text-align: center;">I decided it was time to get out of the house and out of Ft. Hood. Over Spring Break we went to visit friends from Japan who now live outside Dallas. Even though we only spent a couple of days, we had a good time. Hope we weren't too much trouble, Wendy. :)<br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">We first went to the Stockyards at Ft. Worth. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">www.fortworthstockyards.org</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Very cool if you are ever in the area.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0066.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0004.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">(Can we leave her here?)</span><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">It's a feed yard that has been converted into shops, museums, etc. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It was actually pretty cool; although the cattle drive was very anticlimactic. Less than twelve should hardly constitute as a herd, especially when there is a one to one ratio of cowboys to cows. I think I was expecting a little more 'running of the bulls' than a dozen docile long horns.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0026.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0055.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(Speaking of sleepy steers, here are the kiddos on "Big Jake".)</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The next day we headed to the Dallas Zoo. It was so crowded. We almost didn't get in. Right after Wendy pulled into the parking lot they closed the park due to capacity. Parks do that?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0067.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sadly, I think the carrousel was the highlight of the day for the boys. Too many people and really boring exhibits. </div><div style="text-align: center;">(Of course, they might have been just angry that I made them get off the ride.)<br /></div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0086.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div><div style="text-align: center;">Yeah, they look a little nervous, but by the first go-round they were totally loving it. <br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0073.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0143.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div style="text-align: center;">Maren got to see the one thing she was looking for... that weird half giraffe/half zebra thing (the Okapi). It only took a little over 4 hours to find it. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Dang, if I'd known earlier that is what she was looking for..... <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>By the end of the day - well, I think the look on Adam's face speaks for all of us... I think he's looking for the exit.<br /></div><div><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG_0145.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(R to L, Zach, Adam, Maren, two boys I don't know, Christian, and a couple other kids I don't know that also joined us.)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">All in all, it was a good trip. The drive wasn't nearly as bad as I expected and the weather could not have been nicer - not too hot (odd for TX). </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Thanks again, Bruce and Wendy!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-91584202725126387022009-02-28T23:09:00.005-06:002009-02-28T23:52:31.056-06:00All by myself!<div style="text-align: center;">Yep, this is what happens when you leave lotion where little boys can get to it.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZTtJVXjgeExsKvkvP1L3LDxdRNYS6mM3krYnD_VsRq3BeW08MY-Lxdd63mPGz-p5TeQcwOitp4lQ_WKlp2T_OGkJwPvhDxQ25WHwx12VMqIB9TVJWLza_IhEOaobctL5JH0x-HZPzbBY/s320/IMG00151.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308091934618036514" /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But....<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf4GieI03lkNgJlpwvAQNKdSDUU2ZaK5ofEXKrCRVNHeoS00pv6njd2MBU7f-9JPjykKp3JjLLsSW1ps5P9e3jUXU-0vguI3tww19BgIFCh-DIUoYVRPDzbvqh1jlyUmVGpC_uQbtYrVSI/s320/IMG00149.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308092902653588002" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ladies, when you look this good, you've got to moisturize. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(This is Zach, BTW. What a goof.)</span></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-11713403311435374882009-02-19T21:11:00.001-06:002009-02-19T21:13:55.402-06:00Happy Birthday To Me!<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw7yqTJNL1SBqsSJ7NdooaxYzIzsGguy28A1QJT4zLATCg689oATOGgerMfPBwkT4D5IxOLmq1ezwnKGIrbdw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>Is that just the cutest baby girl?!</div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you, Friend. I miss you so much. </div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-8263081075462235472009-02-13T20:57:00.001-06:002009-02-13T20:58:38.143-06:00The Mom Song<div>This is just too funny. I 'borrowed' it from Tracy's blog. You have to watch....</div><div><br /></div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5z4ZsA6X9fA&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5z4ZsA6X9fA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-72610166585567170622009-02-03T20:10:00.004-06:002009-02-03T20:24:25.581-06:00It Must be a Twin ThingZach had tubes put in his ears a week ago. He was such a little trooper - hardly any crying at the hospital. Adam spent the day with a friend. When I got there to pick him up he was crying, "Where Zachy?". Once I got him in the car he was happy. I guess I never really considered they would miss each other when they weren't together. Makes sense considering they are <span style="font-weight:bold;">always</span> together, right? <div><br />That night, as the doctor said he probably would be, Zach was so grumpy. Ironically so was Adam. If Zach whimpered, so did Adam. If Zach wanted to be held, so did Adam. It was like that all evening. I couldn't even go into another room without both of them on my heels. They normally aren't that clingy. I expected it a little from Zach, but not both. <div><br /></div><div>It must be that twin thing I've heard about. If one hurts, so does the other.</div><div><br /></div><div>When they were still tiny, they couldn't/wouldn't go to sleep unless they were touching each other. I guess 8 months in pretty cramped quarter will do that to you. Now they want their own space.... at least to start. I have several pictures like this one. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Tell me again why we bought two beds?</span> It isn't uncommon to find them in the same bed in the morning.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's just so cute how close they are. </div><div> </div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCOUxNSh7TjQ1jp7aqH4RR3smfte1ewPHlitFvqlIqTn7KfVTZ5BEnC7uRIpeW39arnMb5RLlHik0BHhzVhM7fzI2IXSWGM-9l5H0GFkcHyrsXtGUzzSYqYra1Vl4J-HeJz5LfBLDWn4zF/s320/IMG00124.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298760596987054066" /></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-64444551543785665642009-01-31T12:03:00.000-06:002009-01-31T12:04:02.963-06:00Lucky<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iAZhTHPgIZI&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iAZhTHPgIZI&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-22545121662361123052009-01-24T21:08:00.001-06:002009-01-24T21:09:20.013-06:00New look...I was feeling a little pink and green today. I know, I need change my header.Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-46311826882169387282009-01-17T16:22:00.008-06:002009-01-17T16:29:29.369-06:00How sweet is this? <div><br /></div><div>Maren got up early this morning and brought me breakfast in bed. I don't really like her using the stove without supervision, but I just couldn't get mad at her.</div><div><br /></div><div>She made me scrambled eggs, toast, and strawberries. AND she did it all herself. She can be such a sweetheart.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipb1zBSDasxrVX218WMMAZcWgTz2TdhYDwh0l1U4iSE5DxkYHy-8OT3wj56zcvCFr5CIqKuSqxQnr8Sv3ICi3cFjiPyqc8SNnx-vATe-_iGqeWKBIFt2NEwsc1M8hUs0-HN0JUUSO82yAO/s320/IMG00195.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292392438821251426" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This is something that totally cracked me up. Ok, ok, so it's not that funny, but it did make me and Cooper chuckle a little. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>How can you resist savings like this?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSHA6uUy1XKReI6Z0LoG_ePMYlbr5UCaKf_CsjZ6qV4xfyneHNl1hKTmv9ZON6cZVyXV-921VbcVWLi69atPmIdqT4piioJN61tpJntdaBRp6R3D19JiBHdEZF2Pkkh3WdxXh5CLAL1YQ/s320/IMG00107.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292392684454376386" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Unbeatable saving at Wal*Mart!!!</div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-66399467261027324672009-01-02T10:05:00.002-06:002009-01-02T10:07:59.470-06:00What up with that?Notice the date stamp on the post below? I published it yesterday, why does it show the 30th?<div><br /></div><div>I had New Years babies not two-days-before-the-new-year babies. Weird.</div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-77187248142647572762008-12-30T19:19:00.033-06:002009-01-02T10:04:24.918-06:00Terrible Two times Two<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Adam and Zach are two!</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And just look how far we've come. <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">(minutes old)</span></span><br /></div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/BabypicfromHospitalA006-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was scared to death to hold them. There they were, two very tiny little boys, but - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">naturally - </span>perfect. After nine long weeks in the NICU we were finally able to bring them home. It's still hard to believe just how small they were then. </div><div><br /></div><div>And here we are today. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">My Big Boys!</span></span></div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIsFFct2LDX5u0fn2d_-pl6lpYh-enakCvW1SB3z_fiW9wrGZkveKkFByhwwg_MXujMhIunsgFiNc8mnQqXg31mec77CdWkfDhe7I6BZhHIAtLl4gcrqAtWIX3ai9fGaJPomqpJo2eKGbA/s320/Adam.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286392922035521106" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> <br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4wYO6WexNoyjoUBW-k1VfkEQ6uXM5u7dGYgnSmtdF-h-qbPDSZv3K-BnaweYdium4ja9j2l0qeVC5QYsIAlR2Og-V4gxx6mGnMdj8PcaRaz23V2Np8swQFLQx0C-T3ZLoWzaYzvieuiO/s320/Zach.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286392923168345698" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; ">So alike: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; ">They both have big, dark eyes; their curly hair (fro-hawks) has come exactly the same; and both have goofy personalities. My boys are quite the dancers (I think they get that from Dad). They love music, cars, balls, and Elmo. They even have their own language.</span></span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; ">But so different: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; ">Adam is a ham. He'll do just about anything for a laugh, whereas Zach will do anything for a hug. Adam weighs about 26 pounds, has a rounder face, and is slightly taller. He has always been a little bigger. Zach is about 24 pounds, and has a longer face. Adam usually hits milestones first. Zach has a dimple under his left eye. </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I can't say one is more dominate than the other. They take turns being the "bad twin". </div><div><br /></div><div>They are such characters - talking dancing, teasing each other and tormenting their big sister. Rarely a dull moment at our house. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Happy Birthday Adam and Zachy!</span></span></div></div></div></div></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-23925194956617301162008-12-24T13:10:00.002-06:002008-12-24T13:16:58.800-06:00Merry Christmas!!!<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzun4CIlSZwWzefO7hMntNrag65S3U0mkzqtRUTJ9oCErV4kIzzo_tptGgxIqZFpJpT3jIkyZ5nP5kPRq1cGg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-47226422441440123552008-11-26T18:21:00.003-06:002008-11-26T18:58:30.588-06:00More Vinyl ProjectsSo here are some of my latest masterpieces... haha<div><br /></div><div>This one I didn't quite finish. </div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG00133-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div><br /></div><div>It's a glass brick that I thought I had lots of time to finish before Thanksgiving. I was going to make the bow all cute, add some flowers, and maybe drill holes for light. Since Thanksgiving is tomorrow it's unlikely I'll get it all cutesy in time. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Next is a tile. Mom wanted this saying and I was just playing around to see what I could come up with. </div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 121px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG00132-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div>If you can't read it, it says: "When you stop believing you get socks and underwear."</div><div><br /></div><div>I've told Maren for a few years now if she isn't going to tell Santa what she wants, that is what Santa will bring - socks and panties. She's never thought it was funny. </div><div><br /></div><div>Double paned glass is fun. </div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 98px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG00135.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div>The clarity here is very poor, but I took the picture with my cell phone, so it is what it is. Don't point out that it's crooked either. I'm gonna have to re-do this. Where was my laser level when I needed it?</div><div>Anyway, this one I layered in chocolate brown and blue (to match my living room). The blue is kind of hard to read in this picture.</div><div> It says, "together we make a family".</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, this little guy (actually he's not so little, he's about 21 inches tall). Isn't he cute?! </div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 136px; height: 120px;" src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm43/trishitz/IMG00131-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div>He is going up in the kids bathroom. </div><div><br /></div><div>At least I think he's adorable.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm hoping to get off my keester and get my website done soon. I'll add a link once it's done. </div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-49950607658624156132008-11-17T21:11:00.006-06:002008-11-17T21:30:59.722-06:00Things that truly matterYes, I guess I have spent a lot of time feeling sorry for me lately. Sometimes it's helpful to be reminded of what really matters in life. <div>I was looking at some ward members blogs tonight and found this photo of Coop linked to a newspaper article. He's warming up to play Taps for a young service member - a ward member. </div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdL-r1QRz5jFMxOOjph6BQ8BIF6M8aCezWn3Ywudeu9U-LCWQj7ndNg5RvcFMcTTU5LaWfCCNlzcRzPgtpdXRtIv5Evo6MIlvogpU4IcMzKbvGX79LsNIumkUk3Xjcj4XNYzRVcMjttOa/s400/348136088.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269834794436057186" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Coop got orders this week. He'll be leaving some time in January and will be gone a year. </div><div><br /></div><div>It really starts putting things into perspective.... </div><div><br /></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1025206904110274894.post-82552350434746486172008-11-16T21:53:00.002-06:002008-11-16T22:01:01.880-06:00Rise<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p><object height="350" width="425"><param value="http://youtube.com/v/loRd_CLre4g" name="movie"><embed height="350" width="425" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://youtube.com/v/loRd_CLre4g"></embed></object></p><p>Some of you know I've had an interesting week. I needed a lift-me-up and I love this song. I think I especially like it because I got to "hang" with Jamie Jones in Japan (you might remember him as the lead vocal from All4One). Just a really, really nice family man. </p><p>Anyway, hope you like this! </p></div>Coop, Trish, and the kidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167277778870428686noreply@blogger.com2