tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65427431267022871662024-02-19T03:38:32.944-05:00...and Baby Makes FourMichael * Amy * Kaylie * MadelineAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-65059130169697809792013-04-17T13:01:00.000-04:002013-04-17T13:01:30.153-04:00Cancer...really?!I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma on December 28, 2012. Really?? I'm 36, I have an 8 and 4 year old. I breast fed both my babies for over a year. I have no family history of breast cancer. I should not have breast cancer. Should I?<br />
<br />
It all started on Monday, December 17th. I found a lump. No big deal, or so I thought. I'm an under-reactor by nature. I tell myself, "it's just a cyst or fibroid". No big deal. I don't even mention it to Mike. The next morning I call and schedule with my OBGYN. It's been three years since I've seen them. What?? Where did the time go...three years? Later in the day, I meet up with Erika in the pouring rain to get pedi's and chat. At some point I tell Mike about it. Erika and I talk about it too.<br />
<br />
I see my OBGYN on Wednesday, he says, "let's get a mamogram and ultrasound". Friday I go for the tests. I have a mamogram tech with a very big personality. She has me laughing the entire way through the mamogram. We swap stories about kids and husbands. We chat it up during the 20 minutes I'm with her. She tells me to go back out to the waiting room while the radiologist reviews the images. She calls me back to take more images. Still not too worried. Until...I realize the feeling in the room is different. Something has changed. As I leave the room for the second time, she gives me a huge hug. I think to myself that it's an "I'm so sorry" hug. CRAP! Now, I know that she is a tech, not a doctor. But, I also know that she looks at these all day. I'm pretty sure she has an idea of what she is looking at. Next up is the ultrsound. More uncomfortable tension in the air as the ultrasound tech looks and then proceeds to tell me that the radiologist would like to have a look. The radiologist says, "we need to do a biopsy, this mass is solid and suspicious".<br />
<br />
I have to wait until Wednesday to have the biopsy. Tuesday is Christmas. I have to go through the holiday's with this weighing on my mind. Saturday night we rode the "Santa Train" in St. Augustine. It's a family tradition. I can't help but look at my sweet girls and think that this could be the last year I ride the Santa Train with them. Oh why does my mind go there? I try to hold back the tears as my girls look at the beautiful Christmas lights and I look at my beautiful girls like it may be the last time I spend Christmas with them. I'm not an anxious person but for that week, waiting to have a biopsy and get the results, I'm crazy. I don't even recognize myself. I wake up during the night shaking. I can't sleep at all. I can't stand the thought of not seeing my girls grow up. I can't stand the thought of leaving Mike to take care of our girls alone. I pray, and I pray, and I pray. Does my Father hear me...I wonder. I know He does. I just have to have faith.<br />
<br />
Friday, December 29th the radiologist calls. The first thing she asks is, "are you driving". I already know what she is going to say, but now I REALLY know. It's cancer. I tell her I'm not driving, but I want to grab a pen and paper. After writing down lots of information such as type of cancer, size, additional testing I need to have, etc. I ask her if there is anything else I should know. The doctor tells me no and we hang up. I'm surprised at how calm I am. I think to myself, are most people this calm when they find out they have cancer? Mike comes in the room. He knows too. I've been on the phone too long for it to be a simple, "it's benign". We have to tell our family. Those are the hardest phone calls to make. I text my friends and church family. I know the prayers begin, because I can feel them. My Father does hear me and I finally start to feel a peace that I have never felt before. Thank you God for your grace and that beautiful peace.<br />
<br />
I'm assigned a Breast Cancer Nurse Coordinator that helps me schedule appointments and interprets medical lingo for me. She presents my case to a round table of 7 doctors. All 7 say I should have a double mastectomy for several reasons. So, on January 21st I have a 5 hour long surgery. A bilateral mastectomy and immediate reconstruction. When I wake up, I'm told that no cancer was found in my lymph nodes and all margins are clear. I'm so thankful to the Lord for this. More good news to come. Genetic testing comes back that I don't carry the gene for breast/ovarian cancer. Further pathology shows that I had stage II breast cancer. They believe I had the cancer for two years. <br />
<br />
Even though I'm considered CANCER FREE after the surgery. I still have to do chemotherapy. This reduces the risk of the cancer returning in a different part of my body. <br />
<br />
I really wish I would have journaled during these past few months. This has been the most difficult time in my life. Physically it's been painful. Emotionally it's been scary. It's been horrible to see the physical changes due to surgery and chemo. It's been quite an experience, but I have survived. I have learned a lot and I will never be the same. In the most wonderful way. I will never be the same.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-28147584254678115662012-01-19T13:15:00.006-05:002012-01-19T18:56:05.669-05:00Three years<span>Three years ago last night, I went to sleep not knowing that my my life would be forever changed the next morning. Not knowing, how much I would miss her. Not knowing, that I still had things to tell her. Not knowing, that in an instant things can change. </span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Waking up this morning, I'm so glad I know the One who did, and does <span>know, and is with me every step of the way</span><span>.</span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span>Miss you, mom.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><span style="text-align: justify; background-color: rgb(249, 253, 255); line-height: 20px; "><b>Romans 8:18 (ESV)</b></span></span></div><div><span><span style="line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; background-color: rgb(249, 253, 255); ">For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.</span></span> </div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-8534001101268001302011-04-05T11:16:00.005-04:002011-04-06T20:19:31.041-04:00WOWie<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> 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mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">Madeline got an owie on her knee last week, or as she likes to call it, a "wowie".<span style=""> </span>She fell down while she was playing outside and skinned it.<span style=""> </span>It wasn't her first skinned knee and it won't be her last, but she's starting to become a little dramatic, actually, a lot dramatic. Soon after she fell, she told me that she couldn't walk on it, and she didn't walk on it.<span style=""> </span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">All. Day. Long.<span style=""> </span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I carried her.</span><span style=""> </span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">All. Day. Long.<span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">In the rare instance that she did walk, she made sure to do so with a limp. I don't know why, but on that particular day it really didn't bother me to carry her around on my hip.<span style=""> </span>She is, more than likely, my last born, my baby, and she had a wowie. She was so sweet when she tilted her head in an exaggerated way, looked me straight in the eye, and said in her little sing-song voice, "I can't walk on it".</span></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: verdana;"> </div><p style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">She woke up the next morning with a limp, to which Mike was quick to point out that she was limping on the wrong leg.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">Silly girl ♥<br /><span style=""> </span></span></p><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/27a8af2cd44c4baa95f87ddeb70665b2_7.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" 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mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">Our washing machine flooded our house about</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">three weeks ago, but looking at the grand scheme of things, I say, who cares??!!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">Was it shocking to find our house filled with water, every room except for Madeline's, yes!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Was I devastated at the sight of all that water and frantic to get it out of our home, yes!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">Was it an inconvenience to be out of our home for days and then have to live with two huge dehumidifiers and twenty-three fans for a few more days, of course.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoPlainText"><span style="font-size:130%;">But, we are all happy, most importantly healthy, and have a nice little house (that will be put back together soon enough) to call our own.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">So, if this is the worst thing that is going on in our lives right now, we've got a LOT to be THANKFUL for {grin}!!</span></p><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/4e7e7e6e26cf4c9993bb89e28d651121_7.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/995ef50ec58346068120e025948d76e6_7.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Now, my PSA for the day is,<br />1. Never go to sleep, or leave home while your washing machine is running.<br />2. Check your sensor every once in a while and make sure it's not lose. If it disconnects, the washer will not know when it is filled with water and it will continue to "fill" with water until someone stops it.</span><br /></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-10325998816089335102011-03-17T13:21:00.003-04:002012-06-11T18:00:48.016-04:00Happy St. Patrick's Day<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 130%;">A leprechaun visited our house today! He turned Kaylie and Madeline's dinning room table chair upside down, sprinkled green sparkles on the kitchen counter, and okay this is kind of gross, but he must have pee-peed in the potty because the water was green...EEEEWWWW! He also left a note on Kaylie's pillow that said, "You can't catch me!".</span><br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0625edit.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">He must have know that Kaylie was building a trap to try to catch him. It was a school project for kindergarten. All of Kaylie's classmates set their traps at lunch time, but no one caught him. He left a huge mess and green foot prints everywhere. He also, okay, again gross, pee peed in the potty. He even took all of the gold, that was hot glued to a pot, in Kaylie's trap. Those leprechaun's are tricky little people. He did leave the kids a gold nugget and coin, and a very nice letter about how much fun he had.</span><br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0594edit.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-80016844169614770652011-02-07T22:06:00.009-05:002011-02-08T13:08:29.497-05:00Pretty Nails<div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >In church this past Sunday Kaylie learned about the virtue of kindness. She was given a challenge to do something kind for someone. Guess what she wanted to do? She wanted to treat me to a manicure and paint my nails. She even let me pick the color. I picked a glittery purple color. Isn't it fabulous?! </span><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0422.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I'll leave you with her memory verse for the week.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Do unto others as you want them to do to you. Luke 6:31, NIrV</span></span></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-21984484076361826892010-10-26T13:52:00.003-04:002010-10-26T14:02:40.898-04:00A view from the bridge<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">This is what we saw this weekend as we drove over the intracoastal waterway. I thought it looked like the beginnings of a water spout or tornado. It dissipated by the time we made it to the end of the bridge.<br /></span></div><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0005copy-1.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-15676484482903117662010-10-25T16:21:00.002-04:002010-10-25T16:29:30.085-04:00Zoo today...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">school tomorrow.<br /><br />Kaylie didn't have school today due to a teacher planning day. So, we took advantage of this beautiful day and went to the zoo with some friends. <br /><br />Madeline loved the elephants. They were more active today than they normally are.<br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0063edit-1.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /></span></div><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0066edit-1.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-38139675715414002162010-10-24T12:00:00.000-04:002010-10-24T12:00:04.965-04:00I love these girls...my two sweet niece's.<br /><br />Alyssa just got new glasses. I think she is the most adorable thing I have ever seen. Makes me want a pair! She's a beautiful girl and a very gifted dancer.<br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0964edit-1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And this little one, is the sweetest of sweets. Miranda is as pretty on the inside as she is on the outside. And, she can sing a mean version of Taylor Swifts "Crazier".<br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0191edit-1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I love you, niecie girls!Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-2317424974497490662010-10-23T23:03:00.001-04:002010-10-23T11:06:27.379-04:00Pumpkins baby<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNx7Ytb06jjkE_tKrMDngoojlCpzff0TBtyoSqDlvMbrNhCSo5iaclIxKzmU7BwwtBiHt_DPy2MMMCkjPg0xwHslYj4OiJ587atqXv6taf4EXEzfS8wn25PIp2t6P8_xTqgJdNAXioJWU/s1600-h/DSC05183.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397704273695736722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNx7Ytb06jjkE_tKrMDngoojlCpzff0TBtyoSqDlvMbrNhCSo5iaclIxKzmU7BwwtBiHt_DPy2MMMCkjPg0xwHslYj4OiJ587atqXv6taf4EXEzfS8wn25PIp2t6P8_xTqgJdNAXioJWU/s400/DSC05183.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> Yes, this is my belly... a little over two years ago when I was preggers with Madeline.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">If I remember correctly, Kaylie spent the day with her grandparents and I got bored :)<br /></span></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-4279374693804594272010-10-22T12:59:00.003-04:002010-10-22T13:07:36.553-04:00High Heel Shoe Party<font size="4">Madeline had a shoe themed birthday party because, well, she loves shoes. If there is a pair left lying around, she is going to try them on.<br /><br />She had a high heel shoe cake.<br /></font><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0968.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0"></a><br /><br /><font size="4">High heel shoe cookies from Cinotti's bakery.</font><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0972-1.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0"></a><br /><br /><font size="4">I think she likes ice cream as much as she likes shoes.</font><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1026edit.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0"></a><br /><br /><font size="4">She ended the afternoon by <span style="font-style: italic;">kicking off</span> her <span style="font-weight: bold;">shoes</span> and playing in her sandbox.</font><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1041edit.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0"></a>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-88070785667384236532010-10-20T13:39:00.004-04:002011-02-08T12:41:19.179-05:00Happy Birthday Madeline<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Two years ago today, your daddy and I just barely made it to the hospital for your birth. Things were fast, furious, and painful. Three pushes and you were born at 7:14AM on October 20, 2008. You were born weighing 9 pounds 5 ounces and 20 inches long. The world seemed to stop for a few seconds after your birth. You were so beautiful and looked so small. As the nurse laid you on my chest, our eyes locked. You knew I was your mommy. I had prayed for you and that moment, the moment I met you, was glorious. It’s impossible to put into words.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >As I sit here now, I think how fast these two years have gone by, how I wish I could somehow slow down time. In some strange way I’m sad and excited all at the same time. Sad that you are no longer a “baby”, sad that I blinked and two years have gone by. But, I’m also excited, excited about what your future holds, excited for you to take dance classes, excited for you to have conversations with me and share secrets your sister. I’m excited that one day you will be able to read my words to you. I hope that you will have a glimpse of what your beginning was. How filled with love I am for you, your sister, and your daddy; a deep complicated affection that makes me swell with emotion and tears as I write this, at 12:53 in the afternoon, as you’re napping in your pink and brown nursery.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >You are the most wonderful and fun little girl. You’re so strong, and so smart. You’re a tough little thing, sometimes dramatic, and so so funny. Without your knowledge, I sit and watch you as you play. You amaze me. You’re so sweet and soft with your babies. You kiss on them and take care of them with such tenderness, a tenderness that sustains me. You make me laugh. You’re so dramatic and your expressions are hysterical. You have a feisty side and can definitely stand your ground. You let us all know when you’ve been wronged or are frustrated. You love your sister. She is the first person you look for when you wake in the morning. You run to her and hug her when we pick her up from school. You imitate everything she does. You’re a daddy’s girl, which is new to me because Kayie is a mama’s girl, but I love it. I love how you get excited and run to him when he comes home. I love that you ask him, and not me, to change your dirty diaper. I love that he will teach you what kind of a man to marry, a man just like him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >For the past week you have let me rock you to sleep, something you normally won’t let me do. I would like to think that somehow you know. Know that I need to stare at you as you sleep in my arms and try my best to memorize every little facet of your face, and hands, and feet. I need to soak in these last days of having a beautiful, sweet one year old baby. I hope, my sweet little girl, that you can somehow understand how profound, fierce, and altruistic my love for you is. Always remember that no matter how much you grow, you will always be my baby.</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Happy 2nd birthday sweet Madeline Grace!<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0926edit2.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-63672800732758799922010-10-19T13:21:00.007-04:002010-10-23T10:53:50.870-04:00Missing You<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Today would be your 56th birthday. I was looking through a small box of old photo's and came across this picture of you, holding me. It was taken over 30 years ago. You look so lovely.</span><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/Top-12copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I told Kaylie, this morning, that today is your birthday. She said, "Awww, we should sing Happy Birthday, so we did. As we sang, I wondered if you were watching from Heaven.<br /><br />I'm missing you today...<br />and everyday...<br />Happy Birthday Mama<br /></span></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-67445386345724502872010-10-14T12:00:00.005-04:002010-10-22T18:40:51.280-04:00Crazy Hat NightKaylie won a prize for best crazy hat in her class at AWANA's.<br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0959edit-1.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-81556175627607567382010-09-20T13:40:00.004-04:002010-09-21T10:49:38.266-04:00Kaylie girl<a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0702edit2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Yesterday, you turned six.<br /><br />You started kindergarten one month ago and still are uneasy about being away from me for that many hours during the day.<br /><br />You want to be a veterinarian when you grow up. Over the past three months it has changed from an ice skater, to a singer, to a veterinarian. I tell you that you can be all three.<br /><br />You “race” your daddy to your bed every night and somehow you always win.<br /><br />You love, love, love going to your dance classes.<br /><br />You don’t like to clean your room.<br /><br />You do like to help me cook dinner.<br /><br />When we pray you always ask God to say hi to Nana, give her a hug, and tell her we miss her. <br /><br />Your favorite new toy is your "As Seen On TV" purple unicorn Pillow Pet.<br /><br />I’m amazed at how easily you memorize your bible verses for church.<br /><br />We turn on music and you dance with your sister every night.<br /><br />Hannah is your best friend forever.<br /><br />At your birthday party you introduced all of your friends to each other without being asked.<br /><br />Your favorite book is a toss up between “Pinkalicious” and “Purplicious”.<br /><br />Your hair is still wavy, but it seems that your most recent hair cut took the last of your baby curls.<br /><br />You miss all your friends from pre-school, but especially Taylor.<br /><br />You recently won a “good sportsmanship” award for modeling exemplary sportsmanship at Awana’s. The same night you won a prize for “best listener”.<br /><br />You love to help others.<br /><br />You love to stop by the pet store and play with the puppies.<br /><br />You are cherished by your mama and daddy, and are more precious to us than you will ever know. Happy 6th Birthday sweet Kaylie girl.<br /><br /> </div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-33963180678098440272010-08-21T20:29:00.003-04:002010-10-23T10:54:27.202-04:00T...<div align="center">Trustworthy.<br />Truthful.<br />Tender.</div><div align="center">Tough.</div><div align="center">Terrific daddy to our babies.<br />Tolerant.<br />Ten Year Wedding Anniversary.<br />Totally...</div><div align="center"><em>still</em> in love<br />wtih him...<br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/CSC_0029editcopy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Thankful...</div><div align="center">for him,</div><div align="center">for all this,</div><div align="center">and for</div><div align="center">so much more!</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-42079391020429184822010-07-23T20:55:00.003-04:002010-07-23T22:21:53.291-04:00Three down...<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">One loose tooth to go.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0185edit.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Would you believe...<br />She pulled it herself?! </span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-7722516048485493512010-05-28T13:52:00.006-04:002010-05-28T14:25:51.397-04:00My girl graduated...<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">from Pre-K that is. I couldn't help but tear up as the principal gave the opening address. I can't believe how grown up my baby girl is. She's a beauty. Inside and out!<br /></div></span><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1126edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><p align="center"></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1033edit.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">By the way, she no longer wants to be a singer. Now, she wants to be an ice skater.</span></p><p align="center"></p>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-41516411807860178432010-02-27T23:34:00.004-05:002012-03-20T20:44:08.105-04:00Have you ever made a wish on a dandelion?<div align="center"><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0247edit-1.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Her: Mommy, guess what I <em>wished</em> for?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Me: Oh, I don't know. A <em>new</em> pair of shoes?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Her: No.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Me: A <em>new</em> dress?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Her: No.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Me: A <em>new</em> toy?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Her: No...you give up?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Me: Yup.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Her: My Nana.</span></div><div align="center"></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-77677058704405448332010-02-15T22:21:00.003-05:002010-02-15T22:36:22.615-05:00Round and round she goes<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Here is a picture of my </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>sweet</em> </span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">baby </span></em></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>girl</em> </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">riding the carousel.<br /></span><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0207edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">and here is a picture of the same </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>sweet</em> </span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">baby </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">girl</span></em></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">trying to <em>tear</em> my hand</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">off of her back </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">because she thinks she is a </span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">big girl </span></em></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">and can ride the carousel <em>all </em>by herself.<br /></span><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0210edit.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-7423725515515727242010-01-23T13:05:00.009-05:002010-01-23T22:14:22.270-05:00Snow!!!<div align="center">Last week it <em>snowed</em> in our little part of sunny Florida! Okay, okay, by <em>"it snowed"</em> what I really mean is the <em>"ice man", </em>as the kids like to call him, came to Kaylie's pre-school and showered them with snow, <em>err</em> make that ice.<br /><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1105edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1105edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Ice that, if it hit you in the head, would <em>probably</em> leave a dent!<br /><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1114edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1114edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My little native Floridian <em>tried</em> to make a snow angel.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Face.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">First.</span><br /><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1136.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1136.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Poor baby. I guess I never <em>taught</em> her that one <em>should</em> lay on their back when making a snow angel. Oh well, she had <em>fun</em> anyway.<br /><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1137edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1137edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />They had a snow ball, I mean "foam ball", fight. Really, a "snow/ice" ball, made from <em>that</em> "snow/ice", would have left a serious dent, caused bleeding, or caused any number of other injuries.<br /><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1125edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1125edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Then they went on a horse drawn carriage ride through the snow, <em>err</em>, through the parking lot.<br /><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1139edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1139edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Finally, they came inside, from the <em>freezing cold, </em>mid 60 degree weather, {Grin} for hot chocolate. It was a fantastic snow day!!!<br /><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1152edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1152edit.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-55874164145740563772010-01-19T22:53:00.016-05:002010-02-27T23:54:39.579-05:00It's been a yearIt’s been one year to the day since I received that horrid early morning phone call. It was my dad calling; only I didn’t recognize his voice through the sobbing. The first words out of my mouth were, “Who is this?” I didn’t know who it was, but I knew something was very wrong with the caller on the other end of the line. My dad, still sobbing, answered, “It’s me, dad”, followed by a pause that seemed to last an eternity, the kind of pause where a thousand thoughts run through your mind, and you are not certain that you want to hear what is about to come next. Barely able to speak the words, he said, “Your mom died this morning”. Gasp, my heart sank deeper than I ever thought it could. My first words were, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it”, but I’ll get to that in a moment.<br /><br />Thoughts, so many thoughts flooded my mind. My beautiful mom, who doesn't look anywhere near her fifty-four years of age, who works out at the gym three times a week, my mom who is so full of life, is dead? My knees felt weak. Then I asked, “Where is she”, was she on the bed, on the floor, in the hospital? I wanted to know where my mom’s lifeless body laid. I’m not sure why. “Who’s with you”, I asked. More thoughts. Is my dad by himself? Are the police there, or the paramedics? What I am going to do without a mom? I have a brand new baby. What will my dad do? She’s supposed to come over to the house to eat chili, and visit with us today. I still need my mom. Has my little sister been told? Another thousand thoughts ran through my head in just a matter of seconds.<br /><br />Then possibly, the worst thought of all came to my mind, and I say to my dad, “The girls, oh, the girls, what are we going to tell the girls”? Madeline was only two months old at the time. Kaylie was four and Alyssa, my niece, was six. They loved their Nana. They adored her and she adored them. It broke my heart to have to tell them of the news.<br /><br />We didn’t tell Kaylie until later that day. I had prepared myself that she may not understand, that when I told her that her Nana had died and gone to heaven that she may say, “okay”, and “can I play now”. I have to say that I was surprised when she started sobbing, and said, “I don’t want Nana to die”. She understood. <em>She understood.</em> She asked Mike and me question after question. Questions we were not prepared for. Questions that we were surprised a child of four years and three months could come up with. All three of us sat on the couch and cried. The first person she wanted to see and talk to was Alyssa. We returned later that night to my parents’ home. This time Kaylie was with us. There were a lot of friends and family at the house. As we walked through the front door Kaylie locked eyes on Alyssa, and she made a beeline for her. First, she asked Alyssa if she knew that Nana died, and then do you know what that sweet baby said to her? She said, “It will be alright because we are going to take care of each other”. I always say Kaylie is a little mommy because she likes to help and take care of others. This is the legacy that my mom is leaving. She reminds me of my mom in that way. My mom always had such a compassion for others, especially children.<br /><br />At some point in that early morning call with my dad, I asked what happened, but I didn’t have to. I knew that she must have slipped into heaven while she was sleeping. You see, my mom hadn’t been feeling well off, and on for over a year. Mainly it was horrible headaches she was having during the night, but she also was having shortness of breath. When she felt good, it was good, and I could barely keep up with her while shopping at the mall. When she felt bad, it was bad and she couldn’t walk from the car to the house without being winded. I had witnessed bad. She stayed with us for a few days, after Madeline’s birth, to help out. I would wake up often with the baby in the middle of the night, and she would be sitting in the recliner, next on the couch, then the bed. It was awful. She couldn’t breathe, and she couldn’t get comfortable. I thought to myself, she is dying. I wish I would have taken that fleeting thought more seriously. She went to the doctor that same week and was prescribed a steroid. The medication helped tremendously She was like a new person. She felt great, and I thought all was well.<br /><br />She had been to the doctor many times that year, and at some point was diagnosed with COPD. The doctor assured her that he could manage her illness, and that she didn’t need to see a specialist. You have to understand how pretty and young for her age she looked. How put together she always seemed, even when she felt miserable. I don’t think her doctor believed how sick she was. She would verbally tell him how crippled with migraines she was, but I don’t think her appearance matched with what she was saying. We still aren’t certain what she died from. She had expressed to us, long ago, that she didn’t ever want to have an autopsy. So, hard as it is, we honored her wishes. The cause of death listed on her death certificate is COPD. I honestly don’t believe that is what she died from, but we will never know, and the bottom line is that, it doesn’t matter. It’s not going to bring her back.<br /><br />That day, the day I received that phone call, was the worst day of my life. I can’t believe it’s been a year. It seems like just yesterday. The pain of losing her is still so fresh, so raw. I find it odd that I am still in shock that she is gone. I often wonder when the shock will wear off. Two years, maybe three? It must go away eventually. My mom’s death, and the disbelief that she is gone, is still the first thought I have when I wake up, and the last thought I have as I drift off to sleep. The thought of living the rest of my life without my mom completely overwhelms me. I can’t allow myself to think on it long. It’s a terrifying thought that I can’t wrap my head around. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t consume my thoughts throughout the day, but it is the first and last thing I think about in those quiet late night, and early morning hours.<br /><br />I love and miss my mom so much, and may blog about her from time to time this week. I could list all of the ways that I miss her but, I think I’ll save that for another day.<br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Katie Madeline O'Steen<br />October 19, 1954 - January 19, 2009 </span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC04696edit1.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC04696edit1.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-50049204134890367662010-01-17T20:40:00.010-05:002010-01-20T10:45:01.500-05:00She lost a tooth!<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>Actually</em>...daddy pulled it!!! </span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1160edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1160edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">She <em>loves</em> admiring her new <em>toothless</em> grin in the mirror! </span></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1192edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1192edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Aren't her little chubby fingers<em> adorable</em>. </span></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1194edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1194edit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Sure hope the <em>tooth fairy</em> stops at our house tonight. I <em>wonder</em> what the going rate is?<br /></span></p><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_1196edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_1196edit.jpg" border="0" /></a>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-67250281779117698182010-01-11T20:51:00.003-05:002010-01-11T21:01:08.522-05:00I Heart Faces<div align="center">Here is my entry for this weeks <a href="http://iheartfaces.blogspot.com/"><span style="color:#cc0000;">I Heart Faces</span> </a>challenge. This picture was taken a couple of days before Christmas. For those of you who follow my blog, no, you are not having deja vu. I have posted this picture recently. I added some texture, it's the <em>first</em> time I have ever done that, and sharpened the image for my entry. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_0468editsharpenTEXTUREcopy.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0468editsharpenTEXTUREcopy.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Make sure to check out the other "faces" at<br /></div><center><a href="http://www.iheartfaces.com/"><img src="http://www.livinglocurto.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/I_Heart_Faces_noborder_125x100.jpg" /></a></center>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6542743126702287166.post-41866091694505838962009-12-23T15:49:00.006-05:002009-12-23T16:18:17.084-05:00Naughty or Nice?<div align="center"><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_0512edit2.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0512edit2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_0468edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0468edit.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Yes, I put a "<em>naughty</em>" shirt on my </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">sweet,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>nice,</em> </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">baby girl!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">It made me <em>laugh</em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">and</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>*she* </em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">has <strong>no</strong> idea what it says!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em><br />Really</em>, does she </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>look</em> </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">like she has a <em>naughty</em> bone in </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">her little body? {Grin}</span></div><div align="center"></div><p align="center"><br /><br /><a href="http://s186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/?action=view&current=DSC_0476edit.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x248/ames12345/DSC_0476edit.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07307714636094801605noreply@blogger.com1