tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295350492024-02-18T19:03:19.928-08:00inconsequential thoughtshowiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-68380474182221624462009-04-24T10:30:00.000-07:002009-04-24T10:31:45.455-07:00iPhone appsI'll be getting an iphone in the next couple of days. I am curious to know of anyone's essential apps for the iphone.<br /><br />Comment and let me know what you use!howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-65637754970444092062009-04-14T21:37:00.000-07:002009-04-14T22:08:43.968-07:00a wedged nate in a great tightnessIt had been a pretty uneventful afternoon. Minus some issues with rest time, it had been a great day. The boys were playing really well together, and I was able to get a head start on cleanup and dinner. Then the noises began. They went something like “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, OUCH!” and then, “Daddy, come up here!” I met Noah at the stairs and he said, “Daddy, Nate’s stuck.”<br /><br />Let me preface this with: this has happened before. Nate has been stuck before. Not quite like this, and not with this much drama, but the kid loves to try to stick his hands, elbows and legs in places. This time, he really couldn’t get out.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinHMvx9aU_heI7tOQU-j2SHERTRY29EEbmh2djwe_ChTTaRQr9bvq4dRhAVo4__YuUhvgoBAFsBKxIRF_STYsRRjvK-1N3OINfdqqVA4D6CMQmDleEEFbB6PqRiDklqkyaElUuA/s1600-h/IMG_3463.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinHMvx9aU_heI7tOQU-j2SHERTRY29EEbmh2djwe_ChTTaRQr9bvq4dRhAVo4__YuUhvgoBAFsBKxIRF_STYsRRjvK-1N3OINfdqqVA4D6CMQmDleEEFbB6PqRiDklqkyaElUuA/s320/IMG_3463.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324774570318241746" border="0" /></a>The boys have these cool animal chairs we got from some good friends. One is a tiger and one is a zebra. The zebra has a small space between the mane and the ears. Nate’s arm was wedged there.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwmoatEN6MirP782wzT3Rx_X2cHRhGqaK7jUr4XmWmT2UWBh47_d6WHNqQOCJ50GTTgPqUpRTJg7kVj7Xcnhrdb8NWIF30gsixn14x_Ou4U2OS7lHUvUpVTHuDOFAhmNgOZCXBg/s1600-h/IMG_3448.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwmoatEN6MirP782wzT3Rx_X2cHRhGqaK7jUr4XmWmT2UWBh47_d6WHNqQOCJ50GTTgPqUpRTJg7kVj7Xcnhrdb8NWIF30gsixn14x_Ou4U2OS7lHUvUpVTHuDOFAhmNgOZCXBg/s320/IMG_3448.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324775907851796098" border="0" /></a><br />He was quite panicked, and if I breathed on him wrong he said, “ouch!” Step one, try to gently maneuver it out. No dice. Only screaming as if I had put his fingers in molten lava. I was gentle and careful. This is the same kid that broke his arm, so I wasn’t underestimating what he could have done.<br /><br />Think. Oil! I ran downstairs grabbed some olive oil (and the camera), and back upstairs to see what I could do. Didn’t do anything except aggravate the child who also doesn’t like to be dirty.<br /><br />I now explain to Nate that we either have to make his arm hurt a little or cut up the chair. The chair versus the limb was not a hard decision. He was now ready to destroy the chair. I hopped downstairs to the garage, grabbed my handsaw and back upstairs.<br /><br />Every stroke of the handsaw brought, “Ouch, ouch ouch!” After about 5 times of that, I’d had enough. It was time to get the business done. Time for powertools.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFv7HVduMdEwzstYvB7Kt_ia8A7Q9Pzf90sXZI_zlmJTYmvL-6J6NsuVKnMH29mjrLV4D2KBNpUFm0B7Ndu8WxCaGBb18wIWLvFaEhTSn3ibtrhp1gWnk2MwYz4a0crrn1ZaoSHA/s1600-h/IMG_3458.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFv7HVduMdEwzstYvB7Kt_ia8A7Q9Pzf90sXZI_zlmJTYmvL-6J6NsuVKnMH29mjrLV4D2KBNpUFm0B7Ndu8WxCaGBb18wIWLvFaEhTSn3ibtrhp1gWnk2MwYz4a0crrn1ZaoSHA/s320/IMG_3458.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324777126061787922" border="0" /></a><br />Here is the thing I’ve learned about young boys this afternoon. If the situation is scary, don’t add sharp things and volume. I brought in my portable skil saw, talked clearly that it would be loud, put them in the appropriate safety gear, and fired her up. The moment the saw hit the wood and made that screaming sound that saws against wood make, my boys simultaneously reduplicated it. It wasn’t pretty. I consoled for about 10 minutes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj958NnPaBzIDJ-gmMORFt6tc6Cya5A78OpixnCIy9H43yXXiV5PrZv0aZPLrbNs0Lzxcosd6ltDFVIg1iz3hiMfTXRJoTZcJxsaCfNzQdrLq97Uq09T2oJ5YyHkVZr7GqeSuDKdw/s1600-h/IMG_3459.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj958NnPaBzIDJ-gmMORFt6tc6Cya5A78OpixnCIy9H43yXXiV5PrZv0aZPLrbNs0Lzxcosd6ltDFVIg1iz3hiMfTXRJoTZcJxsaCfNzQdrLq97Uq09T2oJ5YyHkVZr7GqeSuDKdw/s320/IMG_3459.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324776626213599170" border="0" /></a><br />So it was back to the handsaw. Since I couldn’t get close enough to his arm without cutting him, I decided I’d try to cut a V in the wood and then try to break off the piece that was pinching him. Let’s just say that this was an arduous process. Every movement was a cry of agony. Unnecessarily so. I got the V cut out, but this chair was strong.<br /><br />I then decided I could use the drill to drill some holes and weaken it. Nate was excited about the drill. He so bad wanted out. It had been about an hour since I had first gone upstairs.<br /><br />Three precisely drilled holes later, and he was free! And the poor zebra had a haircut and was destined for scrap.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLWAzclwCu4NWDu2Fg7J80SpaMDu3uuZ_EBsQoxg-uTJw7k39YL7-_6nfAAEojbEz57hIzTWnsY5vBqOWW0Uw0S3k53tNhy3oaAbnSDam9wilbfarWUDz21ODzmLbSKMlgoGadg/s1600-h/IMG_3473.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiLWAzclwCu4NWDu2Fg7J80SpaMDu3uuZ_EBsQoxg-uTJw7k39YL7-_6nfAAEojbEz57hIzTWnsY5vBqOWW0Uw0S3k53tNhy3oaAbnSDam9wilbfarWUDz21ODzmLbSKMlgoGadg/s200/IMG_3473.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324780188994684690" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzPAAsE1asBlPMuudNbuweDIqRmRRAX2fRqf-TN67PB_o2wLrfKiX-zOY-Qm1v8PhZm1nX2GMX45MGAVpWgY-qeweKDSpZbAuVmJz5kpSe9vCYvQRA_9-b7tFTxZ3YS5kTNk4tQ/s1600-h/IMG_3471.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzPAAsE1asBlPMuudNbuweDIqRmRRAX2fRqf-TN67PB_o2wLrfKiX-zOY-Qm1v8PhZm1nX2GMX45MGAVpWgY-qeweKDSpZbAuVmJz5kpSe9vCYvQRA_9-b7tFTxZ3YS5kTNk4tQ/s320/IMG_3471.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324779125576758146" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYqJBzvwm4mfOKtu78TSZ_StTtN8fqNoQQFe0mB6RgzZGxomSGClbkdx2OrngvPCV48LnjBdrK2wYDNHk0epHAhiBjQEGtEVXgxQd7aU0hXiCt1eG9A2tFoek_FloO6jy839EZw/s1600-h/IMG_3470.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYqJBzvwm4mfOKtu78TSZ_StTtN8fqNoQQFe0mB6RgzZGxomSGClbkdx2OrngvPCV48LnjBdrK2wYDNHk0epHAhiBjQEGtEVXgxQd7aU0hXiCt1eG9A2tFoek_FloO6jy839EZw/s320/IMG_3470.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324778683296529570" border="0" /></a>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-34985497239776433082009-04-13T23:53:00.000-07:002009-04-14T06:36:37.354-07:00easter thanks to LaLa and Papa<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw0w780kStoc7NRQGvFYHpv4CCthPlkfSHwhRwKTZqxvMU-FA10yOmb2l71bdly9aYOR7f57reouEs' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-40140882360091229672009-04-13T09:15:00.000-07:002009-04-13T09:21:54.573-07:00an air traveller's lament - text from the broken link<p>Dear Continental Airlines, </p> <p>I am disgusted as I write this note to you about the miserable experience I am having sitting in seat 29E on one of your aircrafts.<br /></p> <p>As you may know, this seat is situated directly across from the lavatory, so close that I can reach out my left arm and touch the door. </p> <p>All my senses are being tortured simultaneously. It's difficult to say what the worst part about sitting in 29E really is?<br /></p> <p>Is it the stench of the sanitation fluid that is blown all over my body every 60 seconds when the door opens? Is it the wooosh of the constant flushing? OR is it the passengers asses that seem to fit into my personal space like a pornographic jig-saw puzzle? </p><p><img src="http://thecopycourse.pbwiki.com/f/1.jpg" /> </p><p>I constructed a stink-shield by shoving one end of a blanket into the overhead compartment-while effective in blocking at least some of the smell and offering a small bit of privacy, the ass-on my body factor has increased, as without my evil glare passengers feel free to lean up against what they think is some kind of blanketed wall. The next ass that touches my shoulder will be the last! </p> <p>I am picturing a board room full of executives giving props to the young promising engineer that figured out how to squeeze an additional row of seats onto this plane by putting them next to the Lav. I would like to flush his head in the toilet that I am close enough to touch and taste, from my seat.<br /></p> <p>Putting a seat here was a very bad idea. I just heard a man Groan in there! This sucks! </p><p> </p> <p><img src="http://thecopycourse.pbwiki.com/f/5.jpg" /> </p><p><b>DEPICTION OF A MANS BUTT IN MY FACE</b> </p><p>Worse yet, is I've paid over $400.00 for the honor of sitting in this seat! Does your company give refunds? I'd like to go back where I came from and start over. </p> <p>Seat 29E could only be worse if it was located inside the bathroom. I wonder if my clothing will retain the sanitizing odor...what about my hair! I feel like I'm bathing in a toilet bowl of blue liquid, and there is no man in a little boat to save me. I am filled with a deep hatred for your plane designer. and a general dis-ease that may last for hours. </p> <p>We are finally descending and soon I will be able to tear down the stink-shield, but the scars will remain. I suggest that you initiate immediate removal of this seat from all of your crafts. Just remove it, and leave the smoldering brown hole empty a place for sturdy/non-absorbing luggage maybe, but not human cargo. </p>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-5221755179712810952009-04-13T09:06:00.000-07:002009-04-13T09:12:31.216-07:00an air traveller's lamentJust heard about <a href="http://www.snopes.com/travel/graphics/seat29e.pdf">this Continental Airlines letter</a> on a message from Rob Bell. I couldn't stop laughing in the car. The diagrams are awesome too.howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-84273527320908537712009-02-14T12:33:00.000-08:002009-02-14T12:34:34.134-08:00naptime conversationThis was my conversation at lunch with my boys:<br /><br />Me: Noah, are you sleepy?<br />Noah: yes<br />Me: YES!!! Are you going to take a nap today?<br />Noah: yes<br />Me: YES!! Nate, are you sleepy? Are you going to take a nap?<br />Nate: No, I’m not sleepy.<br />Me: Can I sleep on your bed then?<br />Nate: Yes.<br />Me: Then you can stay up and do my homework?<br />Nate: Yes.<br />Me: Okay, I need a documentary hypothesis analysis (JDEP) of Genesis 27.<br />Nate: I’m sooooo sleepy.<br />Me: YES!!!howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-55882716056175922132009-02-06T09:50:00.000-08:002009-02-06T09:51:23.310-08:00Stand By MeThanks Steve for posting this. I think it's beautiful, and has always been one of my favorite songs.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Us-TVg40ExM&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Us-TVg40ExM&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-81381884441144771762009-01-06T10:46:00.000-08:002009-01-08T09:49:47.297-08:00Favorite Christmas DecorationsDecorating for Christmas in our house is a two-faced thing. On one hand, neither of us wants to take the time to set up all the stuff (including climbing up the ladder to bring it all down). On the other, we love it when the tree is up, the lights are lit and the atmosphere in the house changes. We always reminisce over the ornaments that we have given and have been given to us. The boys love it when the tree is up. They shout, "Christmas lights! Look at the star!" for most of the time the tree is up.<br /><br />I have my favorite Christmas decorations. There are 4 in fact. And they don't have any particular order.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnm-LRl1hdvNnwztYYG0FOFIYI9c8-YDOMZzbJc3FxoMJLuBRZxEUyVPSS2iZnBTfryt_Vv9XPEKSGbCfwcT56SOGzKnSa80avJvKmHDx675XLUg1r-7QWQtjKs553YdwKHRXOVw/s1600-h/DSC_0532.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnm-LRl1hdvNnwztYYG0FOFIYI9c8-YDOMZzbJc3FxoMJLuBRZxEUyVPSS2iZnBTfryt_Vv9XPEKSGbCfwcT56SOGzKnSa80avJvKmHDx675XLUg1r-7QWQtjKs553YdwKHRXOVw/s400/DSC_0532.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288255874334944178" border="0" /></a>This star sits at the top of our Christmas tree. I love its simplicity and symbolism. Some people have an angel, others a star. I've always gone for the star. There was 1 star but a host of angels. I don't want a host of angels on my tree (btw angels are warriors - maybe I could find a bunch of old He-Man action figures or GI Joes to put up there.) This star is made of twisted grapevines. The twisted look to it makes me think of Jesus' crown of thorns. The grapevine reminds me that he is the vine. I love this star.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1rIx3IQh299EF_FkPpixfdaRkVp0yofEJRd0oOms0ockb6FI5mNuIE1-BP0rEtSKXUYCSLyVBmUzxsTWHCTc-hnjTTNh2pEdRlqwDGnWQxs2p2AwvJQJMIOSoD-9UN1IuSIo5Q/s1600-h/DSC_0546.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1rIx3IQh299EF_FkPpixfdaRkVp0yofEJRd0oOms0ockb6FI5mNuIE1-BP0rEtSKXUYCSLyVBmUzxsTWHCTc-hnjTTNh2pEdRlqwDGnWQxs2p2AwvJQJMIOSoD-9UN1IuSIo5Q/s400/DSC_0546.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288806750533644738" border="0" /></a><br />This ceramic tree was given to me for my first Christmas. It has little plastic pieces that are lit by a bulb inside. It has gone through a rise and fall of appreciation. In college, I thought it was hideous. Now it's vintage. I am the only one allowed to put it up. Beth has received a scolding from me in the past. This year my boys got to help me. It was a sweet moment.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ_C22bSKC6McYh-fclDdsox0ZqUxqobt_XxTbZ-ZFJpkJKLFUyGybLh4WYERJRa9kFP-ak6ojQX7dGlo2TD5oKKlfXT5oUEt-N8kc7TqLyYJlOk9Uz000fg2j5CCY3Ssx5UKfog/s1600-h/DSC_0549.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ_C22bSKC6McYh-fclDdsox0ZqUxqobt_XxTbZ-ZFJpkJKLFUyGybLh4WYERJRa9kFP-ak6ojQX7dGlo2TD5oKKlfXT5oUEt-N8kc7TqLyYJlOk9Uz000fg2j5CCY3Ssx5UKfog/s400/DSC_0549.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288808088727375890" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJIXiHga3dTkgx5ydMndzzfJayHdVrxo2Qjdruw5VFuaOaEcnDKftPcNTvK5_GgR76G20suz1SJfUfXK3LRC0dY39JMcEFZ_PQ7zCtkl14qhm6Tcu87QQv5-2kTRwJhk133O40w/s1600-h/DSC_0550.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJIXiHga3dTkgx5ydMndzzfJayHdVrxo2Qjdruw5VFuaOaEcnDKftPcNTvK5_GgR76G20suz1SJfUfXK3LRC0dY39JMcEFZ_PQ7zCtkl14qhm6Tcu87QQv5-2kTRwJhk133O40w/s400/DSC_0550.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288808095599309602" border="0" /></a><br />This egg was purchased in Costa Rica. The interior is all hand made and painted. In the daylight, it's alright, but when lit up it's amazing. Beth and I saw this on a trip in CR and went to purchase it on our way home and it was gone. We were heart broken. Then the next time we went, we found it!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5T9w5UsRetUcVxP5w_iEESoHiVtzojukOSafmAX-o_ikEbwD4oaInoxWbK3bG_FWHBcWuFAwPu2xkO_PcrKagRcuqYgjZB88dKp-YGBby80U8XdgoSbuLXv3IoxkMl4H7MhRIfg/s1600-h/DSC_0533.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5T9w5UsRetUcVxP5w_iEESoHiVtzojukOSafmAX-o_ikEbwD4oaInoxWbK3bG_FWHBcWuFAwPu2xkO_PcrKagRcuqYgjZB88dKp-YGBby80U8XdgoSbuLXv3IoxkMl4H7MhRIfg/s400/DSC_0533.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288809722635290818" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOadOLD6JaA_SpxfwrBIHIJl4X55pccWI56ENlK1bfaOAHS9aWm_5m7BoiFp7y-UpRx30ixmvOpFFk_MzelK01SYPTkDrdG3RF-T3FVRhlMB9EzjJW4pGkGN_DV-Lx-A77LLYoQ/s1600-h/DSC_0537.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOadOLD6JaA_SpxfwrBIHIJl4X55pccWI56ENlK1bfaOAHS9aWm_5m7BoiFp7y-UpRx30ixmvOpFFk_MzelK01SYPTkDrdG3RF-T3FVRhlMB9EzjJW4pGkGN_DV-Lx-A77LLYoQ/s400/DSC_0537.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288809725290003458" border="0" /></a><br />I said there was no order, but my new favorite is our nativity set. I bought this on my trip to Israel, specifically in Bethlehem. It's hand carved olive wood. The detail is awesome. Israel security had lots of fun poking through it at the airport, since I bought it in a Palestinian territory. Although I take issue with nativity sets since most of them are inaccurate, the simplicity and natural feel of this makes me pause and take a deep breath when I see it. (Unless my boys are too close and then I freak.) It is now a valued treasure that I hope to hand down to them one day.<br /><br />Do you have any favorite decorations? If so, post them in the comments section.howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-4259054705149840162008-12-12T21:16:00.000-08:002008-12-12T21:27:47.962-08:00children and GodI have this tendency to change lyrics to songs. Whatever tune is stuck in my head, I'll just make up my own words. I do it so often, that my kids don't know the real words to the song. I constantly insert Nate or Noah's name into the song "Oh How I Love Jesus". If you're unfamiliar with it, here's Elvis giving it a whirl:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/B2z5IacR_3A&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/B2z5IacR_3A&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />So, my version goes "Oh How I love Noah" or Nate. The other day in the kitchen, this is how it went.<br /><br />I start singing "Oh, How I Love Noah"<br />I change to the real lyrics, "Oh, How I Love Jesus"<br />Nate says, "That's silly daddy."<br />"Why's that silly, buddy?"<br />"That's just silly."<br />"Well, I do love Jesus."<br />Nate looks at me for a minute.<br />"I love God."<br /><br />I'm not sure if I should be really happy, or if he thinks he one-upped me on this. How do you teach an almost three year old a proper Christology?howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-22694259291545472472008-12-08T00:52:00.001-08:002008-12-08T00:54:57.240-08:00second blogi have decided to start a second blog that focuses more on theology, christianity, my thoughts about where i am in my faith, and the things i learn about living it out. it can be found at:<br /><br /><a href="http://elahvalley.blogspot.com/">elahvalley.blogspot.com</a>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-10956740050097620162008-11-22T16:25:00.001-08:002008-11-22T16:32:39.229-08:00Cast offNate got his cast off the other day. as we were going to the doctor, he was going through all the options of colors that he would choose for his new cast. I kept telling him it would be better if he didn't have to have one anymore. he was awesome. minimal freaking out from the saw (we have been talking about the very loud saw for about a week). he did great with the x-ray.<br /><br />it was really interesting to see how he did not know what to do with his hand after the cast came off. he had gotten so used to not using it, or only using it in particular situations, that he didn't use it for a while. then he slowly picked things up. the bath changed things a lot. he finally got to sit in the tub rather than a bag on his hand and a quick shower. the best was that he got to go to his new class for the first time without a cast on friday. he did great and got to do a lot of stuff he couldn't do in the past.<br /><br />although he doesn't get the attention he got with the cast, and now has to completely dress himself without any help, he seems content to have it off. he's excited about shooting baskets with two hands and throwing a frisbee again. his dad is excited, too.howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-75989304253077458052008-11-15T16:13:00.000-08:002008-11-15T16:22:30.322-08:00transitionsthere have been many changes in the smith household over the past couple of weeks. nate's plunge from the crib mandated toddler beds. i'm pleasantly surprised that the beds have gone very well. they (mostly) stay in their beds and comply to nap and bedtime. nap is a bigger issue, but manageable.<br /><br />the biggest transition is to a new school. for many reasons, we felt it was a good idea for the boys to be in a more established school that they could grow in. but the changing of schools has resulted in a lot of stress on the boys. their are a number of changes having to do with school. but the major changes are they go five days a week instead of three, they are the youngest in the class instead of the oldest, they are in separate classes, and nate's cast doesn't allow him much freedom to participate in the classroom work. we have had a number of meltdowns in the morning in the hallway outside their door. it has been getting better. the biggest concern for me is noah's sudden stammering. for the last 4-5 days he can't get his words out of his mouth. ultimately, i assume all will be fine, but it is a daily prayer that they will adapt and it will be a positive thing. your prayers are greatly appreciated.howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-87943803429289112692008-10-31T14:32:00.001-07:002008-10-31T14:40:25.443-07:00i voted. now on to obesity!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.krispykreme.com/images/hot_vote_now08_pop.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 638px; height: 366px;" src="http://www.krispykreme.com/images/hot_vote_now08_pop.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />i heard this little tidbit on NPR this morning. in an effort to increase voter turnout, a couple of prominent chains are offering free items if you come in with an "I voted" sticker.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.benjerry.com/assets/images/features/i_voted/thanksforvoting_373.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 373px; height: 580px;" src="http://www.benjerry.com/assets/images/features/i_voted/thanksforvoting_373.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />your cardiologist can thank me later.<br />(how do i get an "i voted" sticker when it's a mail-in ballot?)howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-56128842520147328172008-10-23T22:54:00.000-07:002008-10-23T23:08:23.811-07:00nate's castso, as i stated in my previous post, nate now has a cast.<br /><br />here are some pics from today.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfIJRMtECrR6Gnoz1B-jxbgKT94wZI9hjIBcFnatRPNznGod0YxgQR0Ys-J3HROVw2BkTjnGquQHyk7pKae1_YyE-qUFNw7R1LCNwaN9KuCuSz07XxfPzOq72tnlgWkAAvKmYng/s1600-h/DSC_0850.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfIJRMtECrR6Gnoz1B-jxbgKT94wZI9hjIBcFnatRPNznGod0YxgQR0Ys-J3HROVw2BkTjnGquQHyk7pKae1_YyE-qUFNw7R1LCNwaN9KuCuSz07XxfPzOq72tnlgWkAAvKmYng/s320/DSC_0850.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260596821236926802" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFV_C1PhavJNkHd45-K33KNbO2hw2Kt1U9rMUOji7Xp-LY5eTqn2Cyg76beVNHy39GfP8-ADWUWj71tR47AJW-g1eLRtkZYrkQOwP3WQYNFB2R9gp3zzzeFHVJVq616vyhhUZHQ/s1600-h/DSC_0852.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFV_C1PhavJNkHd45-K33KNbO2hw2Kt1U9rMUOji7Xp-LY5eTqn2Cyg76beVNHy39GfP8-ADWUWj71tR47AJW-g1eLRtkZYrkQOwP3WQYNFB2R9gp3zzzeFHVJVq616vyhhUZHQ/s320/DSC_0852.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260596826278948898" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcU_eJ-N4_x7WKj92cHil5EM-W7FT6y1rK5LGVP0-bUQH4ZNGc2AIQa13MLB-rjNNscsHhaho5mYRg8_RH9z3xYH2jJ-dDryXHRGCCT-5mlMW5qVM4PgKmgb4i0gzLPmHogZviLA/s1600-h/DSC_0854.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcU_eJ-N4_x7WKj92cHil5EM-W7FT6y1rK5LGVP0-bUQH4ZNGc2AIQa13MLB-rjNNscsHhaho5mYRg8_RH9z3xYH2jJ-dDryXHRGCCT-5mlMW5qVM4PgKmgb4i0gzLPmHogZviLA/s320/DSC_0854.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260596832092581778" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbiVvvwadStUw1HTBEV9vlHVVJTfvweD6O2GABFvIAk1cgwbw2EIyRGhPv-Bo0gOqC667wlUjHYc2sieGXCXTYbUQtbbwhIvAv1CFylNPUMpWGkgMQ5PMLiMwbF_MR1naGJsefBQ/s1600-h/DSC_0859.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbiVvvwadStUw1HTBEV9vlHVVJTfvweD6O2GABFvIAk1cgwbw2EIyRGhPv-Bo0gOqC667wlUjHYc2sieGXCXTYbUQtbbwhIvAv1CFylNPUMpWGkgMQ5PMLiMwbF_MR1naGJsefBQ/s320/DSC_0859.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260596835584945170" /></a>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-28738942761822051822008-10-23T10:16:00.001-07:002008-10-23T10:31:40.521-07:0010 little monkeyswe have been thinking for a while that it might be time for beds for our boys. the issue has been how difficult it is to get them to go to bed as is in their cribs. however, yesterday's events may force our hand. the boys were jazzed at nap time, and i was working hard to settle them down. i got them into bed and as soon as i turned my back, nate jumped in his bed while holding onto the railing. i told him not to do it again. then noah decided to test if that pertained to him as well. it did. then nate, while my back was turned, did it again. what i heard was a heart-wrenching thump. and there was my son in the middle of the floor crying.<br />he was hurt, but wasn't overly complaining. he just kept crying. i thought he was probably more scared than anything, and possibly milking it since he knew he wasn't supposed to be jumping. after an hour and a half where i got them both settled (thanks sesame street) they both took short naps. i knew nate was hurt, but couldn't figure out exactly how or where. when i poked and prodded him, he didn't complain, which i was expecting. then after he woke up, i could see how much he was favoring his left arm. we decided to feed them dinner and then i'd take him to urgent care. i could tell it was his wrist.<br />sitting in the waiting room was so fun. i really don't get enough time one-on-one with my boys. we brought some books and had a great time reading and exploring. we brought "10 little monkeys jumping on the bed" which he has memorized, so he read at at the top of his lungs, which made people laugh, especially once i told them why we were there.<br />sure enough, 2 hours later, nate had a new splint on his arm. this was not exciting for him. it was mortifying. his comment: "i no like it." but that comment was made in tears and at about 140 decibels, so it might not be verbatim.<br />the only way i could settle him down was to cover his new cast in stickers. he thought that was pretty cool. he's actually been remarkably adept at learning with one hand and still being independent. i serve as his left hand to put on socks or pull up his pants. but he still wants to do it. he's left handed (at least i think he is) and it's been fun to watch him relearn things. i'll try to get some pictures up later today of the sticker covered cast.howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-76631744022772396532008-10-06T22:47:00.000-07:002008-10-06T22:52:09.799-07:00stay at home dadsi'm hoping to get your take on this video. i came across it over the weekend, and it's been laying on me a little. watch it, give me your opinion. deal with the scripture. deal with the approach. i'd love to hear what you have to say.<br /><br />disclaimer: i am a stay at home dad, and i study the bible. i am frequently challenged by other's takes on things and attempt to allow people to speak into my life. please be honest with me.<br /><br /><a href="http://theresurgence.com/should_husbands_be_stay_at_home_dads">the resurgence: stay at home dads.</a>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-53740853900012879692008-09-24T21:50:00.000-07:002008-09-24T22:39:31.312-07:00unshakeablehave you ever had a curiosity or a feeling you couldn't shake? i've had this thing that i have wondered, but to act on it meant a bold and calculated move that could not be reversed. so last night i finally did it, after convincing my wife it couldn't possibly be as bad as she was imagining.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7NuEXSaSxypvvTgpFVTtlrgJtrY_35dzY_JJkibWrNRo-e0Wq9l7RN-0ZMy5lNmuocWoHts4IRdGHy5diTXiRpatQ62LzSG2F1HrBwsl36C1RodDhy0BKH978_mV188qIPrsGA/s1600-h/DSC_0598.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7NuEXSaSxypvvTgpFVTtlrgJtrY_35dzY_JJkibWrNRo-e0Wq9l7RN-0ZMy5lNmuocWoHts4IRdGHy5diTXiRpatQ62LzSG2F1HrBwsl36C1RodDhy0BKH978_mV188qIPrsGA/s320/DSC_0598.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249827283841667282" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJA4um-ihCyqahxZGHMsxgTLfTlXDRt42KfSBJsVmpLnZhgogshc2XACwmTWtHksqJNPTcAbPx7pP8S5oTYIz5zdN1rYU2_QK1kcYs-i6lbmi7wRyEcT3oKuDMBVH4Nzb96ZrEw/s1600-h/DSC_0600_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJA4um-ihCyqahxZGHMsxgTLfTlXDRt42KfSBJsVmpLnZhgogshc2XACwmTWtHksqJNPTcAbPx7pP8S5oTYIz5zdN1rYU2_QK1kcYs-i6lbmi7wRyEcT3oKuDMBVH4Nzb96ZrEw/s320/DSC_0600_2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249829250323071602" /></a>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-72077066373611398992008-09-18T14:50:00.000-07:002008-09-18T14:54:14.407-07:00conspire with meA few years back, I was really frustrated with Christmas. It wasn't that we spent a ton of money (my family never really did) but it all seemed so contrived and opposite of how it should be. I didn't think anything would ever change about that. It really hit when I gave someone a gift certificate and they gave me one to the exact same place. What were we doing? I couldn't figure out how we could change anything. Until I found out about this: conspire with me to stop giving presents and start giving presence.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eVqqj1v-ZBU&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eVqqj1v-ZBU&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-81089455935496723712008-09-15T22:34:00.000-07:002008-09-15T22:37:49.100-07:00amazing graceOur good friend Gayle gave the boys a CD this week. We've sung Amazing Grace with them, so they know all the words to the first verse. It was a lot of fun. This is the 2nd time they've heard this track.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qDaypXmVTnE&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qDaypXmVTnE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-2805394440810571052008-08-24T23:48:00.000-07:002008-08-24T23:50:21.027-07:00week plansAttention Portlanders: I'm looking to take my kids to the zoo and maybe to OMSI this week. If you'd like to join us we'd love the company. It'd just be for the morning. I get a free guest at the zoo!howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-86773947137722157132008-08-21T10:01:00.000-07:002008-08-21T10:03:17.981-07:00sex ed from a 2 1/2 year old boymy conversation with nate after he used the toilet this morning.<br /><br />Nate: I have a penis. Daddy has a penis. Mommy has a penis.<br />Me: No, buddy, Mommy doesn't have a penis.<br />Nate: Mommy has a mustache!howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-75062168896743286482008-08-21T09:54:00.000-07:002008-08-21T10:01:06.332-07:00typical male?nate has cracked me up this morning. yesterday, i bought the boys a little toy golf set, but it was pouring rain all afternoon. <br />the first words out of nate's mouth when i walked in his room this morning.<br /><br />"i pooped."<br />"i wanna play golf."howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-61943330937252439202008-08-05T22:58:00.000-07:002008-08-05T23:07:12.851-07:00What do you want to pray for tonight?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://media.npr.org/news/images/2008/aug/05/gorilla_2group540.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://media.npr.org/news/images/2008/aug/05/gorilla_2group540.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The title of this blog is the question we posit to our boys every night before we got to bed. We've only been doing it for a couple weeks. I realized we weren't really including them in bedtime prayers and I wanted to get them a) to sit down and b) to realize that praying is really important and bigger than us. I figured a simple question would get responses like "Grandma" or "Mommy" or something - things we've prayed about before.<br /><br />So, they have said the same thing every time we've asked. It goes something like this: "ephelants" "no, i want ephelants" "monkeys and gorillas." You have to love 2 year old prayers, right? But I was faithful, and we prayed specifically for elephants, monkeys and even more specifically for endangered gorillas - that was about a week ago.<br /><br />Then I read <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=93254830&ft=1&f=1001">this</a> today. Sometimes I really underestimate God. Today I a) sat down and b) realized that praying is really important and bigger than us.howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-32618675005967228252008-07-28T13:12:00.001-07:002008-07-28T14:11:58.093-07:00kid's musicanyone out there have some suggestions for kid's music? we're going on a road trip next week and i don't really have anything for the boys to listen to. of course they have their favorites, but i can only listen to so much led zeppelin<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/svR3iXKTJvc&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/svR3iXKTJvc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />and mc hammer.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/b9nptjUs9FM&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/b9nptjUs9FM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />i know, i know, but we're 2 legit 2 quit.<br /><br />please - any recommendations would be great from christian kids music to the old standby songs - as long as it's not so overly cheezy. i haven't been able to find much through itunes, but let me know what your kids like (and what you can stand) in the comments below. thanks!howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29535049.post-18712033051309819592008-07-24T21:54:00.000-07:002008-12-10T15:39:50.887-08:00pain hurtsMy boys like to play outside with a little portable pool or a large bucket whenever they can. Unfortunately, we don't have a backyard, so we get to do it in the front yard.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlqvklPJgHEmukxEgc2oWabhGforo8lQxBeS1kp1m4W51kmXmuYkXQUqNL-7q0D9n6kQdZnbr7SkRNIinn7SVO3N-vnjgNRrj2tFPN92zYarDlotlrSb-EoNi1-8-veUYGEX9hw/s1600-h/DSC_0146.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlqvklPJgHEmukxEgc2oWabhGforo8lQxBeS1kp1m4W51kmXmuYkXQUqNL-7q0D9n6kQdZnbr7SkRNIinn7SVO3N-vnjgNRrj2tFPN92zYarDlotlrSb-EoNi1-8-veUYGEX9hw/s320/DSC_0146.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226814272674148114" border="0" /></a><br /> Nate and Noah don't ever want to wear shoes, and they inevitably get little scrapes while running/tripping/crashing on our driveway. Every day it's something.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WIbtgFTYJ0ab2xmDNYEXsY0doiWXb52WEdrNbHSIT18_QhNXbtO9mJajR7NCvShu8i5If9ItDdM60TpnthtLmgP8DbF2N6fsyneBhLwdRP3d_aRpHMfsXCjhI5X0S1aW8-mqCA/s1600-h/DSC_0152.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WIbtgFTYJ0ab2xmDNYEXsY0doiWXb52WEdrNbHSIT18_QhNXbtO9mJajR7NCvShu8i5If9ItDdM60TpnthtLmgP8DbF2N6fsyneBhLwdRP3d_aRpHMfsXCjhI5X0S1aW8-mqCA/s320/DSC_0152.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226815184794452530" border="0" /></a><br />Today, however, Noah took a nice little chunk out of his big toe. He was quite unhappy about it too. The worst part was there was a tiny rock wedged in there and I had to get it out. Unhappy would not be the word to describe that. More like, "My Dad is the spawn of Satan." Beth had to hold him down, and I got out the tweezers, did a little surgery and pulled that little sucker out. He screamed his head off. (It still doesn't beat Nate's trip to the ER for stitches, but it's close.)<br />Then, while I was holding him, letting him know I wasn't completely evil, something came out of my mouth completely by accident. While I was holding him, I said to him, "Sometimes things have to hurt more before they can get better." I've been ruminating in this thought all night. When we realize we hurt, does it usually get better or worse? What have you found to be true in your life? Leave a comment and let me know.howiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469542325414522375noreply@blogger.com3