tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65333371255505580512024-03-14T09:38:31.132+10:00from me to mumthis jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.comBlogger341125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-45649306376622384292015-01-30T22:06:00.001+10:002015-01-30T22:19:24.362+10:00And just like that, off they went. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And, just like that, off they went. With hopes, and dreams, giant uniforms, and even bigger backpacks. </div>
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Not a tear in sight. From any of us. Even me. </div>
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They were ready. So ready. I'm not sure I was. Is any mama ever? But off they went. With smiles, (drawn out) hugs, a wave, and a million "bye-bye mama, love you mamas". </div>
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And afterwards, they greeted me with shining eyes, tales of wonder and learning, and "we had the bestest most fun day ever mummy!"</div>
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My darling boys, I am in awe of you.</div>
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Hame - you hilarious, kooky little boy. You march to the beat of your own drum. Hame-time is a new adjective in our house. You just want to make people laugh. And I adore you, my cuddly, squishy, darling, baby boy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuCvRXDewNavZGH8_xAQZjptgQS9Qk2Vtl9y7htlv7853db1YWvGJKrmWd6o9cd1n5n7vGv9-tGpABaevvYHMK4L4XaliHPub7ZIKOhG7oQz7w4HgTGp_nYfEUhpTEoRGfQn89vFsb3rA/s1600/Hame+first+day+of+school.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuCvRXDewNavZGH8_xAQZjptgQS9Qk2Vtl9y7htlv7853db1YWvGJKrmWd6o9cd1n5n7vGv9-tGpABaevvYHMK4L4XaliHPub7ZIKOhG7oQz7w4HgTGp_nYfEUhpTEoRGfQn89vFsb3rA/s1600/Hame+first+day+of+school.jpg" height="510" width="640" /></a></div>
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Roc, oh, my clever, artistic, sensitive soul. You are so diligent and hard-working. You are selfless and sacrifice your own needs to make others happy. Your kind heart is humbling. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nANUylavrcURAoh8Log9rVZYbiZ1Q75VY8m7ECalDwzJg9LgHZVUN01sz2UMYik3d3YgVQ10eO25aowgxz-Fri-LDabOrsMQ47ZY5N7LDVtcj9ln5oJJ1WigluLeWTn6zZ-1NmThGso/s1600/Roc+first+day+of+school.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nANUylavrcURAoh8Log9rVZYbiZ1Q75VY8m7ECalDwzJg9LgHZVUN01sz2UMYik3d3YgVQ10eO25aowgxz-Fri-LDabOrsMQ47ZY5N7LDVtcj9ln5oJJ1WigluLeWTn6zZ-1NmThGso/s1600/Roc+first+day+of+school.jpg" height="518" width="640" /></a></div>
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You are best mates. Twins. Brothers. Forever. </div>
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<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-82403542334985480142014-07-02T22:14:00.000+10:002015-01-30T22:19:44.219+10:00A big life changeChange is imminent.<br />
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It's exciting. Slightly overwhelming too, but full of promise and potential.<br />
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My babies start school in six months. My chest constricts when I think about it. I know they're ready; they're such eager learners, inquisitive, clever, creative and capable. They're ready. But am I?<br />
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In many ways, yes, of course I am. It's not like it's come out of the blue. I've had 4.5 years to prepare for it.<br />
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But no, no! I'm not ready. They are so little. They're tiny little dots who still wear size 2 clothes. Next year is the first of 13 years of full-time schooling, the start of the reality that they'll spend more awake hours with peers and educators than with me. I hope I've prepared them well, instilled values and morals, taught them right from wrong, and how to practise gratitude.<br />
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We've spent a long time contemplating schools, and we are utterly smitten with one in particular. It's just right; small but perfectly formed.<br />
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We're still waiting to hear if they'll be offered places there, and we have everything crossed.<br />
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And if they do, then our lives will be changing. We will need to move, which means selling our beautiful home. This will hurt our hearts, but it offers exciting opportunities. We'll be moving to an inner-city urban area. Dense, populated, full of energy and verve. We are urban people, so the thought of living smack bang in the middle of it is intoxicating.<br />
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We'll be moving back to where we bought our first home together, where we lived when we were newly married, before we moved to London, and to where we returned; before we started our family. We've always missed it, but for some reason, or another, thought we needed to move to do just that.<br />
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Funny how life brings you back to where you started.<br />
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Here's hoping.<br />
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<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-70996065742061704252014-06-09T22:17:00.000+10:002015-01-30T22:19:50.460+10:00The day I took the toys awayParenting is many things, and one of those is 'tough'. Tough choices, tough decisions, and even tough love, sometimes.<br />
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My boys, unsurprisingly, are everything to me. They are wonderful, and kind, and funny, and clever, and joyous. They are spirited, and rambunctious, and precocious. Lately, though, the spiritedness has given way to outbursts, tantrums, demands, a lack of gratitude, a sense of entitlement, an expectation of more, more and more, and a host of other challenging behaviours.<br />
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The Day I Took The Toys Away began much like most days lately. Too early, and with a wail. Tuesdays are particularly fraught. It's the first day of kindy for the week, it's the only day of the week I have to be at my desk by 9am, and the 45 minute commute between the two makes it practically impossible on even the very best of days.<br />
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The breakfast battle was lost (or won, depending on which side you play for), and tearing them away from the TV to get dressed was becoming impossible. (Wow, I am actually shaking my head at precisely how many bad parenting decisions are even in that sentence - clearly, we were in need of some help).<br />
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Eventually, after far too much shouting, two reluctant and recalcitrant four year olds finally returned to their bedroom, which is where all hell broke loose.<br />
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Not content with the first, second or even fifth outfit chosen, one twin did everything within his stubborn power to remain firmly UNdressed. The second was screaming blue murder and quickly descended into the mother of all tantrums because - get this - his blanket was not on his bed in his precisely required location.<br />
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Trying to calmly explain that I was "going to be late for work. Again!!" only seemed to fuel the fire.<br />
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Chaos ensued. Actually, it was worse. It felt like the apocalypse.<br />
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So I did what I'm sure all mothers do at some point somewhere along the journey. I lost it. I became as stubborn, angry and emotional as they were. I slammed doors, yelled, swore, and cried.<br />
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They fought everything as though their lives depended on it, and I fought back. In my head, I was trying to assert some control and authority. In reality, I was doing exactly the opposite. I finally wrestled them into the car only to have somehow misplaced the keys. I howled (just like a four year old, funnily enough).<br />
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I phoned my mum who could barely understand me through the tears. I yelled some more and then all went quiet. My boys were pale and exhausted. They were silent the rest of the way to kindy and I was crushed by guilt. Crushed. I've never felt anything like it. I couldn't stop crying, and wanted to just hold them tight and never let them go.<br />
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By the time I eventually arrived at work, more than an hour (and one missed meeting) late, I had resolved to make a positive change. For all of us. No more shitty mama.<br />
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I had to face some hard truths about myself, too. I'm not as patient as I should be. Calm isn't the first word that comes to mind when you meet me. I am quick to laugh, quick to chat, quick to hug, quick to shout (and shriek). I am NOT a morning person. There are practical things I should have been doing to make mornings more pleasant.<br />
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In some ways, children are like an ugly mirror, don't you think? Every less than ideal personality trait that you've learned to moderate is mirrored back at you - raw and uncensored - in their behaviour. There's no denying some of the fault lies right here.<br />
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T and I exchanged emails and both agreed that something radical had to happen. Something swift and short and sharp to rudely interrupt the tempo that had slowly crept up and completely sideswiped us. We had had enough. Enough tears, enough tantrums, enough torture. Desperate times called for desperate measures.<br />
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So that's how it began - <b><i>the day I took the toys away.</i></b><br />
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I left work early, went home, and calmly packed away all of the toys, the ipads, and the remote controls.<br />
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I took away all their toys.<br />
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Yes, all of them.<br />
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They are packed away; out of sight and out of reach.<br />
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I sat them down and talked to them about acceptable behaviours in our family and in our house. What we expect from them, from each other, and for each other. I explained how their recent behaviour had not been kind, or respectful, or fair.<br />
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I told them we had decided to take their toys away for a while because we wanted to spend time with each other rather than with things. To us, it was clear that too many toys, too much tv (and ipad time) were the catalyst for meltdowns and bad behaviour.<br />
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They took it surprisingly well.<br />
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Two days later Hamish said to me <i>"Mama, except for my Bid Wed Car and my snug and my Thomathes, I can't eben wemember my udder toys."</i> Roc said,<i> "I know mama, we can give our toys to the chrildren that don't have any toys."</i><br />
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If that's not a warning sign that they had too much stuff, I don't know what is.<br />
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Four weeks later, they have some of their toys back. The ones they love and play with often. The ones they learn from, stretch their imaginations with, enjoy. Wooden trains and track. Dress up costumes. Steering wheels. Lego. A cuddly teddy. A globe. The rest, I can only presume, have been forgotten. They haven't been asked for once.<br />
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<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-91202325812761881812014-05-04T14:25:00.000+10:002014-05-04T14:25:00.419+10:0018/52: Instagram killed the blogBetween a broken lens, a photo program slower than I have the patience for, and instagram, this poor space has been very neglected.<br />
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So, after a long hiatus, here is 18/52.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yruyL7GC1bBqcbnGCrkXmuPVixh64UlxScygtQJGugi2DxUMoFld4FIMPm3twRHqQAuzm0KYv_fW0ylv7E7NWJWrT4_M16uq1QWx2MXdBndbGu2BCjHRytqkCb9InczcB-T6v3kkAG4/s1600/IMG_5030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yruyL7GC1bBqcbnGCrkXmuPVixh64UlxScygtQJGugi2DxUMoFld4FIMPm3twRHqQAuzm0KYv_fW0ylv7E7NWJWrT4_M16uq1QWx2MXdBndbGu2BCjHRytqkCb9InczcB-T6v3kkAG4/s1600/IMG_5030.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc: bracing against the breeze after an impromptu dip in the river</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkyPNzugqircA0GNgTZ06m0-deURHm6WZnBsCGEvs9GA32KgNqvVkBuLTxNP0THNm4XzknsV2SZzB_tQnoJkhwz7gGpdfKb9Sg11oBB_0q2HYLWr9A9shDvcs1G8Gw7SCv345BP4wpwM/s1600/IMG_5335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkyPNzugqircA0GNgTZ06m0-deURHm6WZnBsCGEvs9GA32KgNqvVkBuLTxNP0THNm4XzknsV2SZzB_tQnoJkhwz7gGpdfKb9Sg11oBB_0q2HYLWr9A9shDvcs1G8Gw7SCv345BP4wpwM/s1600/IMG_5335.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame: there's nothing better than a bubble bath</td></tr>
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Joining in with <a href="http://www.practisingsimplicity.com/search/label/the%2052%20project" target="_blank">Jodi</a>this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-49315539189782249902014-03-10T08:58:00.002+10:002014-03-10T16:58:16.964+10:0010/52<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"A portrait of my boys, once a week, every week, in 2014"</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWb9eEP-8Iz1KwNKE-oWeNxnKtLB68G6HsEDcdYtG8zduDqa8AhCTh3VIqw3DktE_Qkz_kj2a3zij_85_tW-mhBqaAB1kWA97EEnEZv6VmYr_OcLrmI4OmJAhFEzyYx0oVgsgV9d4mF8/s1600/IMG_4036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWb9eEP-8Iz1KwNKE-oWeNxnKtLB68G6HsEDcdYtG8zduDqa8AhCTh3VIqw3DktE_Qkz_kj2a3zij_85_tW-mhBqaAB1kWA97EEnEZv6VmYr_OcLrmI4OmJAhFEzyYx0oVgsgV9d4mF8/s1600/IMG_4036.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame. Way too late at night for this shizz, buster.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioxD-l_qNhFGlJghGUrSNLSVb0t4Au0oF2qpG8IQzLprXeTiR92s4TSC8gfw2tN89XU2fs8S2XPFXZw5aRsH8TF31HUbSJaDvN34X8qG9uPiUdu5ja7xjcYKyKZGZKe_rfMYjmnt1nY38/s1600/IMG_4117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioxD-l_qNhFGlJghGUrSNLSVb0t4Au0oF2qpG8IQzLprXeTiR92s4TSC8gfw2tN89XU2fs8S2XPFXZw5aRsH8TF31HUbSJaDvN34X8qG9uPiUdu5ja7xjcYKyKZGZKe_rfMYjmnt1nY38/s1600/IMG_4117.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc. Obsessed with a phonetics app.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42nt3yLiXATlcDMK94SAJjQnGP6f0LqGG1Hhf6C7EILkHcVvN-OGj7WX4b_vuuzRuOpau0HWXJPw0vMAaO6TGg9_OYjhxnT3X_W5Sp8AWZYUZPk6BfSV9b9hDbjxGrhQOzg0xvRcT5m4/s1600/IMG_4149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42nt3yLiXATlcDMK94SAJjQnGP6f0LqGG1Hhf6C7EILkHcVvN-OGj7WX4b_vuuzRuOpau0HWXJPw0vMAaO6TGg9_OYjhxnT3X_W5Sp8AWZYUZPk6BfSV9b9hDbjxGrhQOzg0xvRcT5m4/s1600/IMG_4149.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Today was a tough one. We all needed a little break.</td></tr>
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Joining in with Jodi at <a href="http://www.practisingsimplicity.com/search/label/the%2052%20project" target="_blank">Practising Simplicity</a><br />
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<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-57321422518552860912014-02-20T14:56:00.002+10:002014-02-20T14:56:37.913+10:00CalmWe've come a long way on this journey to creating a calm home. Where we value space and time over stuff and being busy.<br />
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But it's an ongoing job. It's become a daily habit, in fact. Every day, something leaves this house. Usually more than one thing finds a new home.<br />
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There's no finish line, no "aha! we're done" moment. It's addictive though. These days, I fantasise about clearer spaces and a clearer mind. About getting rid of as much as possible. About - finally - properly dealing with our storage cupboards and garage.<br />
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With children, especially, there is stuff. So much stuff. I have no idea where it comes from; I can only assume it tiptoes in - under a cloak of darkness, a veil of silence - because I know we didn't buy it!<br />
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Despite stripping the house of all the boys' toys (that's a post for another day!), today, I look around and can't help but feel there is still so far to go, so instead I'm going to celebrate our progress so far.<br />
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<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-34701409999432620612014-02-18T12:47:00.001+10:002014-02-18T12:47:21.244+10:007/52A portrait of my boys once a week, every week, in 2014"<br />
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The past couple of weeks have been a bit confronting, and I haven't been as present as I'd like. Too much time worrying about unknowns, and not enough time paying attention to the solid, concrete beauty beneath my feet and in front of my eyes.<br />
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So, from a very small pool of photos, these prove there were some moments of sunshine and silliness.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyT5ANIGlM3WNWQvX45rfgrsyJuqX8kMU59AEqGXVI1rnrDe-P1txqpNkSQXgqOdtZxuo-e9dD6HSYISK8XLDBHoPV4Vq8WSS98ShnBzvQsF4M1LgCMkUNyxWusDrNmgeTiogLonN7xM/s1600/IMG_3690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyT5ANIGlM3WNWQvX45rfgrsyJuqX8kMU59AEqGXVI1rnrDe-P1txqpNkSQXgqOdtZxuo-e9dD6HSYISK8XLDBHoPV4Vq8WSS98ShnBzvQsF4M1LgCMkUNyxWusDrNmgeTiogLonN7xM/s1600/IMG_3690.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame. The family comedian. Always.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-OQP3mfhLWALWcPNtd62loDySaAVxka9yNfDIfxpEPRap0I79mU1rJhuLZlJD7xyeFikloVA_DWnhQi3H1ORhaXEEa-OAr1GRxvz7UqILzMg-HHrme77nGZAukhgObqOZCS39fN6cssI/s1600/IMG_3731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-OQP3mfhLWALWcPNtd62loDySaAVxka9yNfDIfxpEPRap0I79mU1rJhuLZlJD7xyeFikloVA_DWnhQi3H1ORhaXEEa-OAr1GRxvz7UqILzMg-HHrme77nGZAukhgObqOZCS39fN6cssI/s1600/IMG_3731.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc. His giggle is infectious.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfJYTJxbRX7bYiROx7py8mrBJoYYurkeGdy0G-izETgW0L3Iv-QmbdPezcnnwIIGvYO53mDXEZC7uKv1YwcS3fRKufOWhXpZ_Aq731z4OUQRNtGFSJlhlKkhNFxAj3K-0GlphV2TrdtE/s1600/IMG_3540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfJYTJxbRX7bYiROx7py8mrBJoYYurkeGdy0G-izETgW0L3Iv-QmbdPezcnnwIIGvYO53mDXEZC7uKv1YwcS3fRKufOWhXpZ_Aq731z4OUQRNtGFSJlhlKkhNFxAj3K-0GlphV2TrdtE/s1600/IMG_3540.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entertaining themselves quietly in the morning sunshine while I watch unseen, from my bed. They knew I was unwell and kept themselves busy.</td></tr>
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this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-70104631804795277822014-02-10T17:15:00.002+10:002014-02-10T17:26:12.546+10:00In the kitchen: gluten-free sweet potato gnocchi<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I have the smallest smidge of Italian blood running through my veins, which I like to credit for my adoration of Italian food. Going gluten-free has meant reducing (and cutting out!) some of my favourite things.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The other day I really wanted gnocchi. Proper home-made gnocchi that is soft and sweet and all kinds of delicious. This was amazing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For the boys, I simply boiled it and covered it with a fine sprinkle of proper parmesan.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">T and I had it boiled, then pan fried with butter, sage and some tiny little pieces of pancetta. So good.</span><br />
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<h3>
<b>Sweet potato and sage gnocchi (gluten free)</b></h3>
<b>Ingredients</b><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">2 large sweet potatoes<br />1 egg<br />1.5 cups gluten free flour<br />pinch of salt<br />handful of fresh sage, chopped</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Method:</span></b></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Roast the sweet potatoes in a 200C oven for approximately an hour until they are soft and tender.<br />Scoop the sweet potato flesh from the skin, place into a large bowl and mash with a fork.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Add the egg, sage, salt and one cup of the flour. Stir to combine (it will start to 'come together').</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Add enough of the remaining flour so that when you mix it together the gnocchi mixture starts to 'clean the edges of the bowl'. (I used all of the remaining flour, but it will depend on the size of your sweet potatoes and egg).</span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tip the mixture onto a floured bench, divide into four pieces and roll one section a time into long thin 'sausage' shaped rolls. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Chop into pieces approx 1.5cm in length. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">At this point, you will have LOADS. Freeze some (covered, in a single layer, then pop into a container or ziplock bag once frozen) of those hectic nights.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm4usBDN7sn3qNpxcaLSXLlgWVfk8rM9Ze9XEYtFi1MM36xVM7hNZMnNvrYNK1iOx9TMEZWVmoUfRdAwEHA1T6W4clXBI2MKInLYT0rrh26Nt5Et63FQ4-icSE0ncBCuk3l-SHm1ljJHY/s1600/IMG_3444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: transparent; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm4usBDN7sn3qNpxcaLSXLlgWVfk8rM9Ze9XEYtFi1MM36xVM7hNZMnNvrYNK1iOx9TMEZWVmoUfRdAwEHA1T6W4clXBI2MKInLYT0rrh26Nt5Et63FQ4-icSE0ncBCuk3l-SHm1ljJHY/s1600/IMG_3444.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-size: 15px; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">To cook:</span></strong></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Bring a saucepan of salted water to the rapid boil.<br />Add the gnocchi into the water in batches.<br />Once the gnocchi has risen to the top and floats (approx 1-2 minutes) it can be removed with a slotted spoon and drained slightly and keep warm.<br />Repeat until all gnocchi is cooked.<br />To pan fry, heat a pan on medium heat. Add a large knob of butter and toss in some sage leaves when the butter is foaming. Add the cooked gnocchi and toss around until golden and crunchy.</span></div>
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this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-4064408431970717012014-02-06T12:00:00.001+10:002014-02-06T12:00:11.159+10:005/52<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUhAfwZZQh9ranRFHk2dw9InahXvhMb0ANRrBiqzXKFq6Nse2ZeSjZqpBeaQ2qHEJMyriotQoV1knEbIuydDGjzEreR40hJgf4XWPJZpPdQp7RUOir4TgsY1h-HTrw_JnvG39GkxXGu4/s1600/IMG_1346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUhAfwZZQh9ranRFHk2dw9InahXvhMb0ANRrBiqzXKFq6Nse2ZeSjZqpBeaQ2qHEJMyriotQoV1knEbIuydDGjzEreR40hJgf4XWPJZpPdQp7RUOir4TgsY1h-HTrw_JnvG39GkxXGu4/s1600/IMG_1346.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame. Such a boy. Diggers, trucks, cranes, and trains. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJce5kOTTMDYt1ZHX5cfiWh_-SpNpohf3krFAcryyr7JZoi8ZrcNj2GcG6NYiYzaKPdxwsnlFFYl-io-MxEa9rdkXkVaJH9-wsn5BHN0cDXPqbWx5HCV3gHCgaWVSz-t3pHuFmrLK5JOo/s1600/IMG_1377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJce5kOTTMDYt1ZHX5cfiWh_-SpNpohf3krFAcryyr7JZoi8ZrcNj2GcG6NYiYzaKPdxwsnlFFYl-io-MxEa9rdkXkVaJH9-wsn5BHN0cDXPqbWx5HCV3gHCgaWVSz-t3pHuFmrLK5JOo/s1600/IMG_1377.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc. I told him I loved him to the moon and back. He told me in no uncertain terms that actually, the moon was VERY CLOSE to earth, and couldn't I at least love him to the edge of the solar system? I do, little man, I do.</td></tr>
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<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-19647512960630897832014-02-01T06:52:00.003+10:002014-02-01T06:52:55.037+10:004/52<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"A portrait of my boys, once a week, every week, in 2014"</i></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZ8RCucy9Bx2iqVhR1nrOLjIhHb1akc5VW2lkIXM1SHnpS_WJ4nRBVTwN_LbNZRJv72wlDvWu7hyphenhyphent8ptzrbyHvjj-CF5uz2G4Bc7dSIUWId8CTd3Ap-H-nF3aLIL0iULynUrSg_qZ5Ik/s1600/IMG_2210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZ8RCucy9Bx2iqVhR1nrOLjIhHb1akc5VW2lkIXM1SHnpS_WJ4nRBVTwN_LbNZRJv72wlDvWu7hyphenhyphent8ptzrbyHvjj-CF5uz2G4Bc7dSIUWId8CTd3Ap-H-nF3aLIL0iULynUrSg_qZ5Ik/s1600/IMG_2210.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc: "Mama! Watch meeeeeee!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrvgs-4Dj8690oEbbbA78nTa7dANXDXYRlUqI0GdftrnDDnLIWPaWaBzLmLOpOdJaDDEYq0-vt8AnUr15Y4mZAI23NkE8MsumiruVq8LVcKtpCo1H8lhnUyHUaQpyP1BSE4H8JHIKRnY/s1600/IMG_2235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrvgs-4Dj8690oEbbbA78nTa7dANXDXYRlUqI0GdftrnDDnLIWPaWaBzLmLOpOdJaDDEYq0-vt8AnUr15Y4mZAI23NkE8MsumiruVq8LVcKtpCo1H8lhnUyHUaQpyP1BSE4H8JHIKRnY/s1600/IMG_2235.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame: Windows to his soul.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzzdlqkjiIuQxUtUUJyn8PGJtp4A5lNH9o7yzgfpzr60rldSetocwjZQKgy1E_N5gTZNYCqzVT2hi1aBAMb_fai1SbGhmpE6oIqoejFh_z3Mn1iNIaWj69LJoNxGEL0flEahf2BoNJik/s1600/IMG_2306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzzdlqkjiIuQxUtUUJyn8PGJtp4A5lNH9o7yzgfpzr60rldSetocwjZQKgy1E_N5gTZNYCqzVT2hi1aBAMb_fai1SbGhmpE6oIqoejFh_z3Mn1iNIaWj69LJoNxGEL0flEahf2BoNJik/s1600/IMG_2306.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My heart smiles.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Joining with Jodi from <a href="http://www.practisingsimplicity.com/" target="_blank">Practicing Simplicity</a>this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-70946714607787109572014-01-31T07:29:00.002+10:002014-01-31T08:30:59.712+10:00A simple long weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Last weekend was the Australia Day long weekend, and as we do each year, we had friends around.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2ryz9-5byD53Hl-mUeWj3qBILaTZIIt8cKHeBig59SnCXNgAoLNfVIO2eYUWcqrXeR5ddbwcPy5yzLC7ieRi6tBlbC_A0EereJmYjrqvH01XjZu1to-xoiZRlD3Q5_RHr0Ssi6McaAg/s1600/IMG_3319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2ryz9-5byD53Hl-mUeWj3qBILaTZIIt8cKHeBig59SnCXNgAoLNfVIO2eYUWcqrXeR5ddbwcPy5yzLC7ieRi6tBlbC_A0EereJmYjrqvH01XjZu1to-xoiZRlD3Q5_RHr0Ssi6McaAg/s1600/IMG_3319.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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Tropical fruit, of course.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOn071o96pam2oBffKRwgVWuOJa-7JoJxISWP82v0hOnJ1Ls9DjTQ2-jN6e0gVaLbrjX6XApexl4YKlcDsaP4DlSswr6NpNjFM5arTe6XiUhjyJgdGbXXHUsp7X5s1eZO0lG6dkAsHKA/s1600/IMG_3326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOn071o96pam2oBffKRwgVWuOJa-7JoJxISWP82v0hOnJ1Ls9DjTQ2-jN6e0gVaLbrjX6XApexl4YKlcDsaP4DlSswr6NpNjFM5arTe6XiUhjyJgdGbXXHUsp7X5s1eZO0lG6dkAsHKA/s1600/IMG_3326.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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An Australian bush inspired table setting - foraged natives, grevilleas and gum</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_L0MR_pq14avJqMae2cGjDOVFXYs1ni62T1s0KGLkqlnHGAcqZCo3NEUr3UOF7nHtUDORGEDqG5T1h-DfwsHaIBaLKK7cXXEGix4v0lnZu4PHwcM4_lczB_kvtc04pmlpNBWsVn9GlZs/s1600/IMG_3327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_L0MR_pq14avJqMae2cGjDOVFXYs1ni62T1s0KGLkqlnHGAcqZCo3NEUr3UOF7nHtUDORGEDqG5T1h-DfwsHaIBaLKK7cXXEGix4v0lnZu4PHwcM4_lczB_kvtc04pmlpNBWsVn9GlZs/s1600/IMG_3327.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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A gum nut bursting into bloom. Fuchsia tendrils unfurling.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6qN6HG2tYoIeeK7ZNvwSW5NGwqZQwBILuqhsBrORFepKvta6M0LyJsfYKQO58glGwLf2th3VM4cmDbpxHJoe7KI34wbyngxT_Rcw85pZ5Id6MKlK6SgAjBaka9P6stU7RX0LQp-iMHU/s1600/IMG_3318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6qN6HG2tYoIeeK7ZNvwSW5NGwqZQwBILuqhsBrORFepKvta6M0LyJsfYKQO58glGwLf2th3VM4cmDbpxHJoe7KI34wbyngxT_Rcw85pZ5Id6MKlK6SgAjBaka9P6stU7RX0LQp-iMHU/s1600/IMG_3318.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Pimms. British, but perfect for a garden party. </div>
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And that's where it ends. I put my camera down and didn't pick it up again for the whole day. Instead, I just enjoyed it. 9 hours later, after a few more rounds of food, we were only just packing up for bed.this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-49390041755943429032014-01-20T13:31:00.001+10:002014-01-20T22:00:11.611+10:003/52"A portrait of my boys once a week, every week, in 2014"<br />
<br />
These two, despite spending their whole lives within a metre of each other, could not be more different.<br />
<br />
This week's much needed quiet time - away from the heat (and away from each other). The humidity and relentless heat sees tempers frayed and tears spilling over. I've been sure to provide them the opportunity to do something alone, and of their own choosing.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5keBhQEbb8RPsiGMFtxobo_uU5f5y_WTDhak-0dqJ8P8-hc17SoOcvHwSymp4a3fCbhdsEo8ssb-grEgH29lKIwmEvrYWylYDLAsn2kTHcp1kScO128OXmaRp6tJLnyiEjisdjIsAG4/s1600/IMG_3296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5keBhQEbb8RPsiGMFtxobo_uU5f5y_WTDhak-0dqJ8P8-hc17SoOcvHwSymp4a3fCbhdsEo8ssb-grEgH29lKIwmEvrYWylYDLAsn2kTHcp1kScO128OXmaRp6tJLnyiEjisdjIsAG4/s1600/IMG_3296.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame. Straight to the playroom to play with his "snugs" (and his trains).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2C-uTZIwSpExuTpiFarUmkeyFiFhbYrFBOOnm0c_HxUNlqS6-gWC9bwzCONcagThrNOpHgxFP62NBreyHj-2boudTZGDd5IOB35fMsJwTeCzzL6QuhcYd3xYPosJyl_bvwqwlcmhjq-8/s1600/IMG_3262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2C-uTZIwSpExuTpiFarUmkeyFiFhbYrFBOOnm0c_HxUNlqS6-gWC9bwzCONcagThrNOpHgxFP62NBreyHj-2boudTZGDd5IOB35fMsJwTeCzzL6QuhcYd3xYPosJyl_bvwqwlcmhjq-8/s1600/IMG_3262.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc. Outside to "nature", magnifying glass and tweezers in hand, exploring.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpyCnnxjyuvh0j6IElV6G_J6LZxoJoUrwJyRoHTsOX7Z4IF2qYgYXM9FRFwg7wHylDI6nppBpN7gzw99E9f4lrunmfnwlZgafAoYAfkhXCeGdRZFUJLk9UJU3Lx8g3ZifuINIwZAHL_s/s1600/IMG_3199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpyCnnxjyuvh0j6IElV6G_J6LZxoJoUrwJyRoHTsOX7Z4IF2qYgYXM9FRFwg7wHylDI6nppBpN7gzw99E9f4lrunmfnwlZgafAoYAfkhXCeGdRZFUJLk9UJU3Lx8g3ZifuINIwZAHL_s/s1600/IMG_3199.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this happened this week, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Playing along with Jodi from Practicing Simplicity and her wonderful <a href="http://www.practisingsimplicity.com/search/label/the%2052%20project" target="_blank">52 project</a><br />
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<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-49696019127620148192014-01-16T13:11:00.000+10:002014-01-16T13:17:00.860+10:002014So it's 2014 and it's already half way through January.<br />
<br />
Time flies.<br />
<br />
I read something recently that kind of stopped me in my tracks. I can't remember the exact phrasing but it was along the lines of;<i> "You can't stop time, you can't go back in time, and you never know when your time is up, but you CAN create more time by choosing how you spend it."</i><br />
<br />
How about that. So true. Sometimes I feel so rushed, hurried, harassed, stressed and overwhelmed - all because I believe I have too much to do and not enough time to do it. This year, I am not going to do as much. All those extra things that are not essential or necessary or enjoyable. The things that don't add value to my days or to my family. That will create more time. And I will <i>consciously </i>choose how to spend it - take control of my happiness, if you like.<br />
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I'm going to keep taking photos and keep learning more about how to take great ones. I can see how far I've come in 6 short months, and it's exciting to think about how much more I have to learn.<br />
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I'm starting with a personal trainer tomorrow because that's the only way I know to force myself to move.<br />
<br />
And I've signed up to <a href="http://simpleyear.co/" target="_blank">A Simple Year - 12 months of guided simplicity</a>. I changed last year. Something flicked in my brain and I don't think the same way anymore. It's not as simple as not wanting as much stuff around me. I genuinely want for less. It's a subtle, but seismic, shift that has infiltrated my life is so many ways.<br />
<br />
In 2013 I decided I wanted to focus on four things: getting better at taking photos; choosing happiness; practicing simplicity; and prioritising my health and well-being. It appears I'm not done with those yet.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year. I hope your 2014 is breathtaking.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-28003797968685172212014-01-14T17:39:00.001+10:002014-01-14T17:42:01.475+10:002/52"A photo of my boys each week, every week, in 2014"<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaXt87WvjRwETFpYqaiopl0R9f4V8mXTlOXcQsCPuRu52hfmYU6g4a2fjxg5lTYnmz6qluc0hpZBhnvYZVswX-pWv9KAd-qxiyKglTY8_Ws2wrcy0aMc2V2yefvCfmo0UC5asreBJkV8/s1600/IMG_2816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaXt87WvjRwETFpYqaiopl0R9f4V8mXTlOXcQsCPuRu52hfmYU6g4a2fjxg5lTYnmz6qluc0hpZBhnvYZVswX-pWv9KAd-qxiyKglTY8_Ws2wrcy0aMc2V2yefvCfmo0UC5asreBJkV8/s640/IMG_2816.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tIpRr4FiBa-oBFIanPXN5y39aNqQcoug5E0e6ZbYwI8KfB5XaRQUC9fnhN0hyvkg1dzjRrQqythRr20-ATY3VSx1xVu7O243rHEkn_MIzKYoZAcmUk1kPQu7BsP9iBmaQ5-j9AQwLkw/s1600/IMG_2817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tIpRr4FiBa-oBFIanPXN5y39aNqQcoug5E0e6ZbYwI8KfB5XaRQUC9fnhN0hyvkg1dzjRrQqythRr20-ATY3VSx1xVu7O243rHEkn_MIzKYoZAcmUk1kPQu7BsP9iBmaQ5-j9AQwLkw/s640/IMG_2817.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1g8OerOLGj5j-ITpwd9O63h8YQKtaLZoQsPdPNjFZAM54IGnBJP54h27bjrqh_iwq_KpTPI70nNjImOTciBLX9GdlFNMadZp17k10hWTZ2GF_2zIbRZJq_EQGEpvVpQn8aNL6qNmfYuI/s1600/IMG_2856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1g8OerOLGj5j-ITpwd9O63h8YQKtaLZoQsPdPNjFZAM54IGnBJP54h27bjrqh_iwq_KpTPI70nNjImOTciBLX9GdlFNMadZp17k10hWTZ2GF_2zIbRZJq_EQGEpvVpQn8aNL6qNmfYuI/s640/IMG_2856.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Their first fishing adventure.<br />
<br />
Linking up with <a href="http://www.practisingsimplicity.com/search/label/the%2052%20project" target="_blank">Jodi's 52 project</a>.this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-3723824184869730412014-01-14T17:29:00.000+10:002014-01-14T17:32:41.855+10:001/52"A portrait of my boys once a week, every week, in 2014"<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxHeaIO8yDq-sEL43AFPyjf1R2gShsYPYLxA1avU0W8r-XO1MIKwrV2T-a4vzKUXkyjpZpjnTDpdyOR5G0bkP4OmnVAWa_mlUturq1VS5y_PK3UXJVx3pvAZUKgZBOVtDtwx3gmbrqkA/s1600/IMG_2941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxHeaIO8yDq-sEL43AFPyjf1R2gShsYPYLxA1avU0W8r-XO1MIKwrV2T-a4vzKUXkyjpZpjnTDpdyOR5G0bkP4OmnVAWa_mlUturq1VS5y_PK3UXJVx3pvAZUKgZBOVtDtwx3gmbrqkA/s640/IMG_2941.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcCFE8VgXCy9f49__t9sQ8vho4F-lH4BaqjpAhnVq6JrKXFPENGZYeWBLMGTp9YToRkJUUVeU1OpbDGEvZyDVd0LPbSrW0aMcOcn8QFrF87LcA4ED35m-h1Xlx-Rs-XNB5EBr0h9wyck/s1600/IMG_2991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcCFE8VgXCy9f49__t9sQ8vho4F-lH4BaqjpAhnVq6JrKXFPENGZYeWBLMGTp9YToRkJUUVeU1OpbDGEvZyDVd0LPbSrW0aMcOcn8QFrF87LcA4ED35m-h1Xlx-Rs-XNB5EBr0h9wyck/s640/IMG_2991.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqYZw0-1CLjV6EmexrQDjBWtxuPGa8QGAQVk0Ox7Nz_Wd2fRlCSuG-a5cttN46iqVjVAfs7Nabt2IPu5R6Iv9n0bldl8UGwAScVuSawIjvVseAj6XmX_pPr7mWGFh9ggii5wLTKtK5ec/s1600/IMG_2951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinqYZw0-1CLjV6EmexrQDjBWtxuPGa8QGAQVk0Ox7Nz_Wd2fRlCSuG-a5cttN46iqVjVAfs7Nabt2IPu5R6Iv9n0bldl8UGwAScVuSawIjvVseAj6XmX_pPr7mWGFh9ggii5wLTKtK5ec/s640/IMG_2951.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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Early summer evening's golden light. The beach to ourselves.<br />
<br />
Linking up with Jodi's 52 project.this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-71285662400838105312013-12-15T12:50:00.000+10:002013-12-15T12:50:12.195+10:0050/52"A portrait of my boys, once a week, every week, in 2013"<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlH-bdNIcJEr-yir_0PD12Dxec5WlZvQws5Qtw-dP9tbkm_DS21HgyraZZJ_tjtuHeXeRlboQQQcGa1Wp4HceHTTxUYpBx9ZPv-kJhs4pv4KBJPYlqsALRUa6lZWHASCTUdrcT7EK2Jy4/s1600/IMG_1951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlH-bdNIcJEr-yir_0PD12Dxec5WlZvQws5Qtw-dP9tbkm_DS21HgyraZZJ_tjtuHeXeRlboQQQcGa1Wp4HceHTTxUYpBx9ZPv-kJhs4pv4KBJPYlqsALRUa6lZWHASCTUdrcT7EK2Jy4/s640/IMG_1951.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1c2tJQg34WEbTSI3TYnX7Xu2MgnF4YkaWp7BLiWUmiQzloizqWGw8BUCrowG4Qnnw8dvGORsgHbY40kSSvsEQ86f6FqyGPXBd45aXVYLUS8U8_4LSYhDyRTl9bDz6OiJOI5w0SqQeYE/s1600/IMG_1956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT1c2tJQg34WEbTSI3TYnX7Xu2MgnF4YkaWp7BLiWUmiQzloizqWGw8BUCrowG4Qnnw8dvGORsgHbY40kSSvsEQ86f6FqyGPXBd45aXVYLUS8U8_4LSYhDyRTl9bDz6OiJOI5w0SqQeYE/s640/IMG_1956.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And utter devastation when there's none left.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As ever, joining with <a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/search/label/52" target="_blank">Jodi</a>this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-61960579507805108462013-12-11T15:18:00.002+10:002013-12-17T13:06:53.026+10:00Giving up gluten<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii87dTLy8RQqYpt6CGimbMzzX1sNhoOy_2mmlyStva04OmVEb4r1zQUkRNY87pLqHKiAeiDqdCbqdXRlgz2wJJha49vPZfhM-MD2BRqZA0XbWpvbRdGmUOadhB_N1jYDaFPNp3GMeDVIA/s1600/IMG_1886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii87dTLy8RQqYpt6CGimbMzzX1sNhoOy_2mmlyStva04OmVEb4r1zQUkRNY87pLqHKiAeiDqdCbqdXRlgz2wJJha49vPZfhM-MD2BRqZA0XbWpvbRdGmUOadhB_N1jYDaFPNp3GMeDVIA/s640/IMG_1886.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
We have been gluten-free for two months. It's been a long time coming, for me personally. But it was some reading I stumbled across that linked a gluten-free diet with improvements in childhood hypotonia that made me sit up and listen once and for all.<br />
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<br />
<div>
It's well known that for some people, gluten inflames their digestive system. There's now a school of thought that believes gluten may inflame more than just the gut, affecting muscles, joints, and the brain. Hamish's hypotonia affects his muscles and is neurological in origin (we believe). Avoiding inflammation of his muscles, joints and neural pathways can only be a good thing, so, we decided to cut gluten out and see if it makes any difference.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
And there is most definitely a difference.<br />
<br />
Of course, it's impossible to attribute it solely to a gluten-free diet, because he may very well be going through a developmental growth spurt too, but both T and I have seen a discernible change in him.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He seems to have more energy. He is talking a lot more confidently. He is moving with better balance and riding his balance bike with gusto. He has started working out how to take his own t-shirts on and off. And he is climbing more and with less fear.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
His kindy teachers have noticed an increased attention span, and an ability to stay upright and maintain posture for longer.<br />
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<div>
A coincidence? Possibly. But I too have noticed a dramatic change in my body. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Abdominal bloating has almost disappeared along with headaches.My sinuses are clear. I'm sleeping better, and I feel more energised during the day. Before, I was lethargic in the mornings and exhausted by evening (although admittedly that could be parenting!) but, excruciatingly, unable to sleep enough to recover. The dermatitis I have had on my hands my whole life has disappeared and my fingers have stopped swelling, which means I can sleep with my wedding rings on. A little re-introduction test saw me swell like a balloon within minutes after a gluten-free fortnight.<br />
<br />
It was a light-bulb moment for me, as someone who, on occasion, felt the need to undo a button after eating just to feel like I could breathe. Mostly, I feel simply lighter - like I don't have a brick sitting in my stomach.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The transition hasn't been as difficult as I thought it might be. This year, we have consciously shifted our diet to include more whole ingredients and exclude preservatives, colours and flavours. Gluten-free recipes are all over the internet and I was already milling grains, lentils and pulses into flour at home. I am still baking, just using a combination of brown rice flour and corn flour instead. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Kindy lunches have probably been the biggest change, but I've been making batches of gluten-free zucchini slice and savoury muffins, which have gone down a treat. I'll need to come up with a few more options though, or I'll put them off those foods for life.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Weekend eating is a little more challenging, but we're getting there.<br />
<br />
And for now, we'll keep it up. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-69530269282098483292013-12-10T15:09:00.000+10:002013-12-10T15:10:27.438+10:0047/52"A portrait of my boys once a week, every week, in 2013"<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8TO2EdCB-VN0Unu3lh03UC8YNGZIkg6SksykH0elOQTfyK2_IpilvhYcSoeTyD9VtB0J24eHkG0-XdH_PiPq5vy81EMKYQCZyoM3qhRdVsZr2E923YrP85IjFcjwmU2Afdx7lb467EtA/s1600/IMG_1632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8TO2EdCB-VN0Unu3lh03UC8YNGZIkg6SksykH0elOQTfyK2_IpilvhYcSoeTyD9VtB0J24eHkG0-XdH_PiPq5vy81EMKYQCZyoM3qhRdVsZr2E923YrP85IjFcjwmU2Afdx7lb467EtA/s640/IMG_1632.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc. Eyeballing the kindy concert stage. Or yawning. Could be either.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpBscL0yTSo15A3pf7PrHELOm6PRXJoJgdZBRPNj71Gja7VrLZmMG0Vpf66iSgGPny9oGm8hyg3ypveNaG9xTLTmVqFpIYusss_yrAX82dLc6JodB0ivmNNPaX6mU26P-cUhpconZ-Sk/s1600/IMG_1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpBscL0yTSo15A3pf7PrHELOm6PRXJoJgdZBRPNj71Gja7VrLZmMG0Vpf66iSgGPny9oGm8hyg3ypveNaG9xTLTmVqFpIYusss_yrAX82dLc6JodB0ivmNNPaX6mU26P-cUhpconZ-Sk/s640/IMG_1500.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame. He likes to make 'nests' and then plonk down in the middle. "Take a photo of me sleeping in my nest, mama!"</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0iPZukK81ex4lLdtVcd2NMYP-HZUJC6XiqDQMuIk72-DsCLwvOE75RoQQZUxmGDSuU7HtRja6TrXOoH9ctBVV3-Nih6S8PXbkSJVrh8UK1PUcNc896NXmchZdFJ2pj3QsmJ96VlalCU/s1600/IMG_1631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0iPZukK81ex4lLdtVcd2NMYP-HZUJC6XiqDQMuIk72-DsCLwvOE75RoQQZUxmGDSuU7HtRja6TrXOoH9ctBVV3-Nih6S8PXbkSJVrh8UK1PUcNc896NXmchZdFJ2pj3QsmJ96VlalCU/s640/IMG_1631.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two little blonde heads. Always touching. Always together. A bit lost without each other, really.</td></tr>
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Playing along with <a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/search/label/52" target="_blank">Jodi</a>this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-27755175699096759162013-11-29T11:38:00.002+10:002013-11-29T11:58:18.056+10:00Can Christmas be simple?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DFKNaUj2LLl3DU13F-NhAXR_AnCNE_lPn7YZrszEqdI61doXRlgnB9uiBuu-K6k0-cTaVU4Mx11iSt-cZuwjwh7HIVLrRZmIOw99a2xghB1khHugf6lLaxSMzh52mJmJiU4ota-ufss/s1600/simplechristmastree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DFKNaUj2LLl3DU13F-NhAXR_AnCNE_lPn7YZrszEqdI61doXRlgnB9uiBuu-K6k0-cTaVU4Mx11iSt-cZuwjwh7HIVLrRZmIOw99a2xghB1khHugf6lLaxSMzh52mJmJiU4ota-ufss/s400/simplechristmastree.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/306033737148430573/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Source</span></a></td></tr>
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I hauled the tree out today, dusted off the decorations - and BAM, just like that, my clear, clean, serene home suddenly felt <i>out.of.control</i>.<br />
<br />
I've always been quite restrained when it comes to Christmas decorating. I don't have loads of knick-knacks that are brought out just for the month of December. I don't change tea-towels or dinner services. I have only one tree, and I stick to a simple colour palette.<br />
<br />
This year though, I'm challenging myself to pare it back even more: a simply decorated tree, a single dining table vignette, and twinkly lights (of course). That's all. It's enough.<br />
<br />
I love this time of year, I do. I love the carols, the twinkling lights, the festive cheer. So that's what I'm focusing on. Gifts this year will be simple, home-made where possible (and practical), and I will do my best to choose quality over quantity, needs over wants, and experiences over things.<br />
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I want my boys to learn that the real magic of Christmas is in its spirit: the way people slow down, smile more, are more aware, practice charity, find joy in giving, and appreciate one another.<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2sZ722BDqQ8xwP2BMv7Qn8nBNkWHIOx93r_3ggdbN7NUqqku_WkbAcapE60-JmYoR24eO-89yh19aaVej-nDt8roaFa-oULK6Idq1BUjjRziTsyBUdaLA0nS7XfFw-R0Art4BtD1GrI/s1600/xmasevetable.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2sZ722BDqQ8xwP2BMv7Qn8nBNkWHIOx93r_3ggdbN7NUqqku_WkbAcapE60-JmYoR24eO-89yh19aaVej-nDt8roaFa-oULK6Idq1BUjjRziTsyBUdaLA0nS7XfFw-R0Art4BtD1GrI/s640/xmasevetable.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
I think last year I started getting it right. I loved this simple table I set for our traditional Christmas Eve family get-together.<br />
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And I can't wait for tonight. Decorating the tree is always so special for me. I put on some carols, pour a glass of champagne and adore every minute of it.<br />
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<i>(I'm going early [we are a 1st of December family usually], but if I don't do it tonight, it won't get done until the end of next week, and that would be a travesty.)</i><br />
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<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-22850125821491395102013-11-20T22:57:00.003+10:002013-11-20T22:58:04.740+10:0046/52"A portrait of my boys, once a week, every week, in 2013"<br />
<br />
We went on an afternoon trip to the Science Centre. It was great fun, but I think the journey there was the highlight for them. They had a certain swagger. I think they felt very grown up walking down to the arts precinct. And they look it too. My babies are real little boys now.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKuCQr60uudp02vi9L2jXzgtC5Gk0eEc-fMGx9ZU_412ciGN_gYfQwWeWb5uow04Y0PpIkLETfKg7MvBrhIuOwM1Zwaqf9eiHO3qwZT0O-aSly-Dzewnv6YHzJiKq-5E0HiIan_lVZ_J4/s1600/IMG_1413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKuCQr60uudp02vi9L2jXzgtC5Gk0eEc-fMGx9ZU_412ciGN_gYfQwWeWb5uow04Y0PpIkLETfKg7MvBrhIuOwM1Zwaqf9eiHO3qwZT0O-aSly-Dzewnv6YHzJiKq-5E0HiIan_lVZ_J4/s640/IMG_1413.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame. Balancing on a retaining wall. My heart was in my mouth.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8SIcoQethPOzHI-WDA5owKBdrrDMCS7FG2ve62Yr8zotIYAKGNuTlNuKsRx-_zt65HEuqC2_adzXK6JrISbDyetIy_uVq2rHfmSPO4E27Chy_HocZBpGQZOGXy0IralCgBorn-hcePRs/s1600/IMG_1423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8SIcoQethPOzHI-WDA5owKBdrrDMCS7FG2ve62Yr8zotIYAKGNuTlNuKsRx-_zt65HEuqC2_adzXK6JrISbDyetIy_uVq2rHfmSPO4E27Chy_HocZBpGQZOGXy0IralCgBorn-hcePRs/s640/IMG_1423.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc. It looks like a quiet moment of contemplation, but actually, it was just a lucky shot. This kid never stops. Every photo I have of him lately is a blur.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've missed a couple of weeks. The photos are there, but I've been having trouble downloading them. I'll catch up soon.<br />
<br />
<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-33532494473405473142013-11-08T21:14:00.001+10:002013-11-08T21:14:57.096+10:00How to make a hatTime. You need time. Carve it out from wherever you can.<br />
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A bucket. Scalding hot water. Old gloves, a parasisal hood, some sinnamay and a packet of dye. Silk taffeta. Antique brass French flower making tools. Some yarn. A needle. An iron. A hat block. Elbow grease.<br />
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And yet more time.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5m7SH31NDiD_G4cyC_yEv905QRMal3gfRW0OYXq_gmVfV1oFWw5RE5OzR72rIfDKUow_zjvBR4h06FaRiw0OSPTZId-e71HXHViiN9OR9p-fVs7L1jYE_qFYeVMJMVyKJLof1miBIQxA/s1600/hat.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="620" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5m7SH31NDiD_G4cyC_yEv905QRMal3gfRW0OYXq_gmVfV1oFWw5RE5OzR72rIfDKUow_zjvBR4h06FaRiw0OSPTZId-e71HXHViiN9OR9p-fVs7L1jYE_qFYeVMJMVyKJLof1miBIQxA/s640/hat.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Add champagne.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaETjPhsVb6MMFh7tHq77t3fuN5Kx9RweEUdhx3mray4stNuGMe5khrJLCNleiSljnghlXDy3oM8v0EJdHqlX_SrIQis-H_FhUoNxAAAe0HR8voTTORlN70k5WRYDK8pA65ggq-q-ElzA/s1600/melbcuphat).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaETjPhsVb6MMFh7tHq77t3fuN5Kx9RweEUdhx3mray4stNuGMe5khrJLCNleiSljnghlXDy3oM8v0EJdHqlX_SrIQis-H_FhUoNxAAAe0HR8voTTORlN70k5WRYDK8pA65ggq-q-ElzA/s640/melbcuphat).JPG" width="566" /></a></div>
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<br />this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-15980272726253563352013-10-31T12:51:00.001+10:002013-10-31T12:51:37.058+10:00Less. And more.<br />
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It's over a month since the <i>Great Declutter of 2013 </i>and I'm very happy to report that I can't for the life of me remember what I sent packing.<br />
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The house is vastly easier to keep tidy. Vastly. I can't even describe how much easier it is. At the very worst, there are dishes to wash and put away, some random sofa cushions to replace, and on a very bad day, puzzles pieces and doonas to be put right.<br />
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I feel like I have more time. I don't know if I truly have more available minutes or hours now, or whether I feel less burdened by <i>thingsthatneedtobedonerightnow</i>, but either way, I'm not complaining. The laundry is even up-to-date... regularly.</div>
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Things have a home, and that's where they can be found. Without fail. I haven't had to buy yet-another-measuring-tape yet. Miraculously, most things can be found first time. "Where's the bloodymeasuringtape?" "Why, hanging on the hook whose sole purpose is to hang the measuring tape, of course!"</div>
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The benefits are undeniable, and, even better, they're contagious.</div>
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Last week (and again last night) I discovered Rocky in the playroom cleaning it to within an inch of its life. Toys - <i>actually put away</i>. He was so happy and so proud of himself (he'd also worked up such a sweat that he'd stripped off, such was his effort).</div>
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Even T is in on the act. We went to Sydney last weekend for a beautiful wedding, and when we arrived home on Sunday night we unpacked, took clothes to the laundry, hung things up, and put bags away. For us, that is HUGE. We have, in the past, been guilty of leaving bags semi-unpacked for weeks. Weeks!</div>
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Every day, I am still ridding our lives of things that are neither needed, cherished, or beautiful. It's an ongoing process, and I'm fine with that.</div>
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This knowledge that simpler is better has spread into other areas of my life as well, almost without me even realising it. A heightened level of consciousness, I suppose.<br />
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I haven't forgotten to use my reusable grocery bags in a month. I've started using re-useable produce bags. I'm in the process of farewelling plastic in favour of glass, and the boys are sipping from stainless steel water bottles. I'm refusing bags and packaging where possible, and I'm enjoying the challenge. Why, oh why, must a single cucumber be shrink-wrapped?<br />
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I don't even feel like shopping. Seriously. I've never been a big shopper, to be completely honest, but I have NO DESIRE to bring yet more unnecessary stuff into our house without full and complete contemplation and conscious decision making.<br />
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Does this mean I'm finally a grown-up?<br />
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this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-51210473525532344662013-10-23T14:20:00.001+10:002013-10-23T14:22:05.332+10:0042/52WEEK 42?? Really? I have adored this project, despite a week missed here and there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU14f67Kc9URNwc5g2QEpKSAtwawfuhksfRxYGdiif2HOaHcWAyTHY0aqdEPX8yFQrUvFnSO4Tofz_fFgaOmdx3G1qHBMsHYDxkAmEFwREYAaWYI4r5Bxb27EbwF5V9OFhlQZjzSLdBOA/s1600/IMG_0178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU14f67Kc9URNwc5g2QEpKSAtwawfuhksfRxYGdiif2HOaHcWAyTHY0aqdEPX8yFQrUvFnSO4Tofz_fFgaOmdx3G1qHBMsHYDxkAmEFwREYAaWYI4r5Bxb27EbwF5V9OFhlQZjzSLdBOA/s640/IMG_0178.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvku1bcYMYWWWDMEQNRpfC1ADtglCa3WIQ8SlqSUO34IgC3Ls2PIIMfGTc7u3NghYTAYp1Dq7xIoz_nj1GfuH50L02Qv9xt2GRE3JQUK28yyiGSpljSHDNTxnn4HGC7mJjsZk8Sobr-I/s1600/IMG_0183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvku1bcYMYWWWDMEQNRpfC1ADtglCa3WIQ8SlqSUO34IgC3Ls2PIIMfGTc7u3NghYTAYp1Dq7xIoz_nj1GfuH50L02Qv9xt2GRE3JQUK28yyiGSpljSHDNTxnn4HGC7mJjsZk8Sobr-I/s640/IMG_0183.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame.</td></tr>
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Love them.<br />
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Joining with <a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/search/label/52" target="_blank">Jodi</a>.this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-60103426248905036622013-10-15T12:48:00.002+10:002013-10-15T12:48:58.695+10:0041/52<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>"A portrait of my boys once a week, every week, in 2013"</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQXanJlll-YRGK4Ah6Zg3nmwmBdv1w_ZDPH55Ifew_WEHVc1OL5jFS9g8Z7YkOT-dxx0nMPHa1fxIbYuOv0x0C8olPJlaOTiFMuGiD6EBPY1dL6iBM66qx1xoQBhHVmI5du4if7YOsmQ/s1600/IMG_0243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQXanJlll-YRGK4Ah6Zg3nmwmBdv1w_ZDPH55Ifew_WEHVc1OL5jFS9g8Z7YkOT-dxx0nMPHa1fxIbYuOv0x0C8olPJlaOTiFMuGiD6EBPY1dL6iBM66qx1xoQBhHVmI5du4if7YOsmQ/s640/IMG_0243.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvbK1EfNzCzEla8VsYjFl2s3Nkx39bGbvJpwZmcG4IJAXavCGEZOWc8AEoN04tuuxsDNvSveestQTl0znA5_7CLVhHN-mQH_22fKCF452p8Dm9T3K1B_kssviaItA5Wm6LiR64XUr3AY/s1600/IMG_0335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvbK1EfNzCzEla8VsYjFl2s3Nkx39bGbvJpwZmcG4IJAXavCGEZOWc8AEoN04tuuxsDNvSveestQTl0znA5_7CLVhHN-mQH_22fKCF452p8Dm9T3K1B_kssviaItA5Wm6LiR64XUr3AY/s640/IMG_0335.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Nothing beats a bit of old fashioned slip n slide fun.<br />
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Joining with <a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/search/label/52" target="_blank">Jodi</a>.this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533337125550558051.post-57001422347157291742013-10-02T14:35:00.001+10:002013-10-02T14:39:35.062+10:0039/52<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"A portrait of my boys, once a week, every week, in 2013"</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0-K74463D6MNP1sSTyEUCQ425CZHItgpupIb6xSRDTQjhwSJdXuCs2q2qkY0sCL81ci-tMBUvHygkI5tgvWDPwQNOKl1DFhuTKuDgc4SJlGRFC0lSSHNQ9gerv0yWMSjHt0Euz1X8xo/s1600/IMG_0073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0-K74463D6MNP1sSTyEUCQ425CZHItgpupIb6xSRDTQjhwSJdXuCs2q2qkY0sCL81ci-tMBUvHygkI5tgvWDPwQNOKl1DFhuTKuDgc4SJlGRFC0lSSHNQ9gerv0yWMSjHt0Euz1X8xo/s640/IMG_0073.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hame. His trains come everywhere with him. This week, they joined us for breakfast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roc. Jumping to reach the top of the wall. This kid never sits still.</td></tr>
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Joining with <a href="http://cheandfidel.blogspot.com/search/label/52" target="_blank">Jodi</a>.this jen dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14787027291104632931noreply@blogger.com2