<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973</id><updated>2011-08-01T22:08:07.955-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Joy Journal</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>94</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7689599704748115315</id><published>2010-07-07T05:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T05:59:57.259-04:00</updated><title type='text'>almost 2 months?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Dear kids-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Has it really been almost 2 months?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;sigh. It appears I am failing miserably at my quest to write you daily...but do know I think about the things you are learning and doing and the way you inspire my life daily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Much of the last 2 months have been hectic. Daddy was gone most of that time on his clinical rotations--which meant it was just me and you guys. And I have to say that was not always easy. We spent a month in Idaho as well, hanging out with family and friends--I loved watching each of you latch on to certain cousins, and to laugh and run around so carefree. Those 4 weeks spent with grandmas and grandpas and cousins and aunts and uncles are weeks I will always treasure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I hope you do too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Daddy has been home with us for just over a week now, and it's been so nice to have him around. You guys love your dad...and he loves you...and watching you together is something so magical to me. He knows exactly how to make you laugh and the best games to play--and he knows how to read the perfect stories and captivate you with pretend play. He is truly a great man...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;We are getting ready for the birth of the new baby...tomorrow in fact. It is hard to believe that the time is here already! I still remember when I was pregnant with Jenna and the time passed SO SLOW. I am pretty sure I counted every single day and knew down to the second I should have had her. :) This time, the minutes and days and months flew by. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;In preparation for this baby to come, I have kept busy getting stuff around the house done...and I had an experience yesterday that really made me feel the need to sit down and write to you again--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Yesterday, in your quest to help me clean, you sprayed cleaner with bleach in on the nice quilts you have on your beds. So now, all your nice bedding has lovely bleach spots. I was livid. Not one blanket...not two blankets...but all three. I didn't know if I should cry, or yell, or run away and not come back for the rest of the night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;The thing is, getting so angry about the quilts made me feel even WORSE! The reality is, they are just material things. And if I had to choose you kids or a blanket, I would clearly choose my kids. But yet, in that moment I just couldn't keep it together. I was short-tempered...and really have been a lot lately. Perhaps it's the end of pregnancy playing games with me. Perhaps it's the extreme heat...or the fact that I haven't slept well...but the fact is, I definitely don't feel like you have gotten my best the past little bit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I. HATE. THAT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And I hate that I have been flustered with you...because that's not what is in my heart. Instead of just playing on the floor and snuggling on the couch reading stories, I have been cleaning up the stuff from off the floor and pushing anyone who felt the need to hang all over me (it's been super hot here!) :) I have been frantically trying to cross of my list of to-do's...because that seemed so much more important.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;But tonight...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;sigh&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;...tonight I feel so disappointed with myself and how I have reacted to you lately. I just wish I could go right in and snuggle you all (next to the air conditioner...lol) and tell you that I was wrong--wrong to get so upset about the bleach spots on your quilts--and wrong to put so many of my to-do's ahead of you. I just want you to know today, that even though you have struggled with being stir-crazy in this house and I have struggled with emotions and sleeping and life, that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I love you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; and need you in my life...that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I would choose YOU&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; all over again if I could rewind life and do it all over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sigh&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Tomorrow. Planning on there being a tomorrow that I can try to make this right...to soak in your joy and excitement over baby Carter...to snuggle you for a bit...to listen to your silly stories...and to spend some good moments together on our last day as a family of 5...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;love, mom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7689599704748115315?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7689599704748115315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7689599704748115315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/07/almost-2-months.html' title='almost 2 months?'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8358111645865251075</id><published>2010-05-19T19:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T19:42:30.162-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New things</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we went to a new preschool to have you evaluated to see if you would be able to go there in the fall. You were SO excited!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You want to be in school SO BADLY. You watch Jenna and want to be just like her--you want to have sight words and a backpack and a teacher and class. You want it all! :) So this preschool was something VERY exciting for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dropped you off at the class...and then went to read in the lobby. After a while, I got tired of sitting and went to see if I could peek in on you. You happened to be playing outside. I watched you for a good, long while. You ran here and there...you did your thing...you tried everything out. You loved it all. And I loved watching you love it all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think sometimes as your mom, I just get used to seeing you play every day...and to see you outside of being with ME, really made me love seeing the you that is a social little guy who loves to play and be with others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And it also made me want to just sit and watch you much more often.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you. And I love watching you love new things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8358111645865251075?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8358111645865251075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8358111645865251075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/05/new-things.html' title='New things'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7094222465446204606</id><published>2010-05-18T19:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T19:41:53.198-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter from dad</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: -webkit-xxx-large; line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.2em; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; color:initial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Dear Jenna,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.2em; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; color:initial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I have been thinking about you a lot today. I have told everyone that today is my little girls birthday. Time is going by so fast and you aren't my baby anymore. I remember when you were born. Your mom and I were so excited to have you join our family. We felt strongly, even before the doctors told us, that you would be a girl; a very special girl who really completes our family. ON May 18 2004 we went to the hospital in the morning and we were so excited for you to be born. We waited all day and you finally came that evening. You were so small and precious. The first time I held you I knew that you were my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1274312140_0"  style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.2em; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; color:initial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;little princess&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;. You have made me so happy over the years. When you were a baby, I loved having you fall asleep on my tummy. I would snuggle you for hours. Sometimes, I hoped that you would wake up in the middle of the night so I could get up and have that special time with my girl. As you learned to walk you wanted to do everything by yourself. When you were one year old, I would take you to the park and you would always want to play on all the toys all by yourself. You didn't worry if I was close or not. You wanted to explore the whole world. When you were two you started to talk more and more. I used to try to get you to say funny words like blithen or shmooken because I thought it was so cute when you did. When you were three you were a big helper with your brothers. You would bring diapers and sing songs and tell stories. They love spending time with you. You would also listen to the stories of the book of Mormon. You would teach the missionaries about the stories you had heard. We were shocked that you knew them so well. When you were four you wanted to learn everything. You always asked me why things work the way they do. I was amazed at how well you learned the things that interested you. You were always trying to figure things out. You are such a smart girl and when you try hard you can be good at anything. When you were five you started going to kindergarten. I am always surprised by how well you are reading. You are a great helper and your brothers watch you and try hard to do the things that you do. Now that you are six I look forward to the memories that we will have. I have loved our special times together and playing games. I love it when we work together to make our home better. You are a special girl and I'm so glad that I am your daddy. I always want you to be happy. Mommy and I try hard to teach you the things that have made us happy and I know that if you obey, and learn about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1274312140_1" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.2em; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 2px; border-bottom-color: rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Heavenly Father&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; and Jesus that you can find happiness all your life no matter where you are. I love you so much. Always remember that. I hope you have a happy birthday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.2em; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.2em; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.2em; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline-color: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Daddy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7094222465446204606?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7094222465446204606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7094222465446204606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/05/letter-from-dad.html' title='Letter from dad'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7516837733670801786</id><published>2010-04-29T13:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T13:30:39.076-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Too much cuteness!</title><content type='html'>Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today at breakfast, you watched Spencer lick the last drops of syrup off his plate. He was VERY focused on this, and because the plates are see-through, you watched his tongue make funny wiggles across the surface. You giggled...and said ," mom, Spencer is just SO CUTE!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I agreed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then you said, "I think we should get rid of him because there is just TOO MUCH CUTENESS IN THIS HOUSE!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh that made me laugh REALLY hard. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is a lot of cuteness in this house--you included little lady! And I love it!&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;ove mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7516837733670801786?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7516837733670801786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7516837733670801786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/too-much-cuteness.html' title='Too much cuteness!'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-3454751730839306517</id><published>2010-04-26T20:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T20:28:55.125-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A long, long while</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As you can tell by the date, it's been a long, long while since I got on here and wrote to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh how this saddens me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wrote you each letters in my mind daily...as I was sweeping the floor, rushing about, taking care of things that needed done. And I hoped I would get them written down! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But time passed...all too quickly, I might add. And my memory is not what it used to be. :) &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; can tell you we have had some good days...and we have had some not so good days...but each day there has been something I have found...something good...something wonderful. It's hard not to with kids like you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But today, I had to put the dirty dishes down...leave the broom in the middle of the kitchen floor...let things just BE for right now...because I feel so very impressed to tell you how much I love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need you to know that. I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I often find myself getting really irritated at the times that I become frustrated with you guys...I snap quicker than I want to...my tone of voice is not one that I feel would be pleasing to my Heavenly Father. I find myself just needing to let go...to remember that you are children...to not expect perfection on an adult level.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And that's how it was tonight. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't even remember what spurred it initially...probably nothing that actually had to do with any of you. But as things unfolded, I found that little by little I was getting angrier and angrier...and I was taking my frustrations out on you guys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We read stories, read scriptures, and knelt down for family prayer. We have started saying something each night that we are thankful for, so that the person who says the family prayer can be sure to include those things, and hopefully help our family to be more grateful. You guys really love this...and I love hearing your answers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So tonight, we went through each of you...and then I asked someone to say prayer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jenna, you stopped me and said, "mom...what are YOU thankful for?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh how this broke my heart. I hadn't even thought of a single thing...I had been so frazzled with my frustrations from the evening that I didn't put myself in that moment with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I felt my heart softening...it was the very thing I needed to turn the night around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And really, I couldn't pick just one thing. I was thankful to each of you...and FOR each of you...thankful that daddy is working so hard to get through school....thankful for a roof over our head and food to eat...thankful for family...and that we get to be together forever. And I was thankful for second chances...and third chances. Because I certainly need my fair share.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you all. I do, even if I don't get to write every single night, like I originally planned on doing. Know it's in my heart...my thoughts...and I am really trying to be better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-3454751730839306517?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3454751730839306517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3454751730839306517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/long-long-while.html' title='A long, long while'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7916355594759938466</id><published>2010-04-11T20:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T22:22:50.419-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was your first prayer in primary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to stand next to you, and listen to your little voice copy what I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You had been SO nervous before....in fact, I wasn't sure you were actually going to follow through and do it at all! But you were such a champ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You made me proud little man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7916355594759938466?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7916355594759938466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7916355594759938466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/prayer.html' title='Prayer'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7941297303838791109</id><published>2010-04-09T20:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T22:20:00.694-04:00</updated><title type='text'>pizza parties</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I love is making pizza as a family. It's pretty much a weekly thing at this point--and I just think it's one of my favorite traditions we have together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the homemade dough that you each love to steal so you can make your own stuff...it's the sauce you love to dip your fingers in...it's the cheese you try to sneak by the handful, only to leave a trail of it as you run out of the room. It's the smell of baking red peppers and bacon and olives and sausage...and hearing you each say YUM over and over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it. Each part. Each piece...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7941297303838791109?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7941297303838791109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7941297303838791109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/pizza-parties.html' title='pizza parties'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-6653124262353171738</id><published>2010-04-07T21:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T21:12:36.493-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Diaper Races</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every night, right before climbing in bed, daddy and I have a race getting the boys nighttime diapers on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenna, you are the one who gets it all started with your GO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love being surrounded by the cheering, the laughing, and the happy voices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit, that lately I am losing my touch. :) Daddy has won the past few times...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes me laugh, Kaden, is that every single time (even those times you don't win) you come up to me and laugh while saying, "IN YOUR FACE!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh how I love those giggly moments before bed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-6653124262353171738?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6653124262353171738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6653124262353171738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/diaper-races.html' title='Diaper Races'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8669425676490587539</id><published>2010-04-06T21:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T21:04:11.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So grown up.</title><content type='html'>Dear Spencer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we went to visit Squires castle. While it isn't really a "castle" per se, it may as well be in your eyes. It's empty, and a place for you to run and play...to imagine...to climb and dream and imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today, you did all those things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today, I saw you in a completely different light. I had my camera, taking pictures, trying to capture each of you in your element. There was a moment I had to stop--to actually put my camera down and just stare at you. You were so grown up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had these ah-ha moments before. That's nothing new. But this experience just seemed so different. It was as if I saw you as you are, and yet as you will become, all in one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am grateful for that experience...and grateful for YOU...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you,&lt;br /&gt;mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8669425676490587539?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8669425676490587539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8669425676490587539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/dear-spencer-today-we-went-to-visit.html' title='So grown up.'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5251985627652011144</id><published>2010-04-05T20:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T20:06:03.675-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring break...part 1</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was the first day of spring break, without having daddy around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went shopping for shoes for Kaden, picked up some new coloring books and paints, and spent much of the day in the sprinklers and playing outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While there were parts of the day that were difficult, I just love much about having you all around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You all play nicely a good portion of the time...and I love how you rally around each other.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You're just good kids...I hope you know that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5251985627652011144?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5251985627652011144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5251985627652011144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/spring-breakpart-1.html' title='Spring break...part 1'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-824000748326903894</id><published>2010-04-04T20:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T20:03:23.463-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter Sunday</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was Easter...and also conference weekend. This meant we stayed at home and listened to the speakers. You brought home a little coloring book from primary the week before, so you could color the people as they spoke.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't get to sit with you the whole time, but I loved popping in and watching you coloring intently...and I loved you showing off your artwork.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You're just growing up...and you make me proud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-824000748326903894?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/824000748326903894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/824000748326903894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/easter-sunday.html' title='Easter Sunday'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-6501152553125485420</id><published>2010-04-03T19:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T20:00:51.052-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The sandbox</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4038/4491677126_03c2462015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 353px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4038/4491677126_03c2462015.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few months ago, our neighbor gave us a sand/water table. We finally got the chance to put it up today. I cannot tell you HOW EXCITED I was to do this, because I knew you would love it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was sooo right! You did. You all stayed out and played all afternoon...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You came in full of sand, and completely happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I wouldn't have had it any other way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you my little sand-diggers. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-6501152553125485420?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6501152553125485420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6501152553125485420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/sandbox.html' title='The sandbox'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4038/4491677126_03c2462015_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-2128119791204382658</id><published>2010-04-02T19:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T19:57:05.277-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Eggshelland adventures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4037/4487469073_fe27f01d84.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 311px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4037/4487469073_fe27f01d84.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dear Spencer,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we went to a place called Eggshelland--a house with all sorts of amazing displays, all put together by handpainted eggs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a beautiful day. And daddy happened to have the day off school and such, so we all got to go together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You ran around the driveway, yelling out in the best words you could, things like "EGGS, EGGS" and "DUCK, BIRD, BUNNY". Oh you were sooo excited.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It made my heart super duper happy...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-2128119791204382658?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2128119791204382658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2128119791204382658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/eggshelland-adventures.html' title='Eggshelland adventures'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4037/4487469073_fe27f01d84_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-2629929366065852062</id><published>2010-04-01T19:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T19:50:56.446-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April Fools...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Dear kids,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Today was April Fool's day. And boy did we have FUN!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I worked all morning getting stuff ready. For lunch, we started with cupcakes. You guys were THRILLED! Cupcakes? For lunch?! You had no idea that it really was a meatball in a mini cupcake wrapper, topped with piped mashed potatos and a grape tomato on top...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Spencer, do you see your face?? You were less than thrilled that I pulled a fast one on your beloved "cherry". :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2774/4483923920_f0d4bf6d4d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2774/4483923920_f0d4bf6d4d.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;While you were eating (and moaning about) your cupcakes, Kaden asked for a drink. I pulled out some "juice" (which was really jello I had made earlier in the day and put in the fridge with a straw).) Your faces were SO funny! You were shocked that you could sip NOTHING from your cups! I then told you that you were good sports, and since you had played along with my pranks, we would have pizza...&lt;enter&gt;...a large pita topped with strawberry puree, grated white chocolate, gummy worms in red and green (for the bell peppers), black licorice for olives, and fruit rollup pepperoni. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;IT WAS HILARIOUS! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I loved tricking you--and being the prankster. Though I am sure you will pay me back many more times in the years to come.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you all--and that's no joke! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/enter&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-2629929366065852062?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2629929366065852062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2629929366065852062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/april-fools.html' title='April Fools...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2774/4483923920_f0d4bf6d4d_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-3196382473616956376</id><published>2010-03-31T19:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T19:23:43.194-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Love me tender</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today you had your spring concert, where you sang various Elvis songs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You were stoked about this...and I just love seeing you excited! You were insistent you look like Elvis--but once you got to school, you saw some girls all dolled up, and then you realized that "they look like girls who want to date Elvis"....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Suddenly your pedal pushers, button up white shirt, and neck scarf were not good enough. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But you sang your heart out. You looked so cute up there belting out the words to "You ain't nothing but a hound dog" and "Love me tender".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are quite the performer...on stage and off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You did great. I love you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-3196382473616956376?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3196382473616956376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3196382473616956376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/love-me-tender.html' title='Love me tender'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7174926135452759495</id><published>2010-03-30T13:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-30T13:38:37.247-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letters and sounds</title><content type='html'>Dear Spencer,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, you simply amazed us all. Even as I write this, I can't help but think back to this morning and wanting to squeeze your little cheeks and kiss your sweet face all over!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;See, you still don't say much...Just shy of 3 years, we are lucky to understand a small handful of words. Communication has been frustrating...for both of us. I am always wondering if we are doing enough...teaching enough...and it's hard to know because there isn't a lot of verbal feedback. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But today...oh today...you were in love with Jenna's school project--the coconut tree with the alphabet on it. You hauled it all over the house. You hugged it. And you came over to me babbling and pointing at letters and such.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;....and then I heard it. L. Clear as day. You said L.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the most amazing thing, was that you were actually POINTING to L.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought maybe it was a fluke, so I asked another letter. Low and behold, you pointed correctly, and sounded it out. This continued, R, S, T, D, A...on and on. Daddy and I were gasping with each letter...You knew them...you KNOW the alphabet!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were shocked! When did this happen? Have you known for a while and we just didn't realize?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, Mr. Spencer...you made me so proud. So happy. Elated. Thrilled.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are learning...you're getting it...and someday, ONE DAY, you will talk and get it all out the way you just can't (or won't) right now. Today proved that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you little my little alphabet man!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7174926135452759495?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7174926135452759495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7174926135452759495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/letters-and-sounds.html' title='Letters and sounds'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-1949300472737026343</id><published>2010-03-29T13:20:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T19:19:58.913-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Projects</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we worked on a project you have to complete for school tomorrow. It was a report on an author, and you chose Bill Martin, and the book Chicka, Chicka Boom Boom. Best part was, you needed a visual aid to go with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really struggle with doing so much homework with you...I have to admit that. But I love when you have projects come up...it gets my brain working and I love to think of all the creative things we get to make together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I loved seeing my vision with your touches...we made a coconut tree with a wrapping paper tube and pasted letters from magazines all up and down the trunk...and then we cut slits in the top of the tube and inserted tree leaves, each with a fact about Bill Martin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to say it was pretty cute...and watching your excitement about it made me feel truly satisfied.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-1949300472737026343?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1949300472737026343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1949300472737026343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/projects.html' title='Projects'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5249306037486532912</id><published>2010-03-28T13:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T19:20:09.006-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My little fashion models</title><content type='html'>Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today before church, you each wanted to model your Sunday best before church. Dad did a pep talk on how to do the runway walk, complete with wink and click at the end...very funny. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You each looked SO cute, all dressed up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It amazes me how much you are growing...and how FAST. Just watching you each strut your stuff made me smile...I loved it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5249306037486532912?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5249306037486532912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5249306037486532912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-little-fashion-models.html' title='My little fashion models'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-9166091372438379937</id><published>2010-03-27T19:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T19:46:06.297-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Activities...</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna and Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today you had a busy day...a primary activity day AND two birthday parties to attend...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We dropped you both off...on your own...at your own activities...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We spent hours apart while you were with friends, celebrating, eating cake and having fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But today, little ones, it hit me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are growing up. You no longer need me to linger at your parties and activities the whole time. You can stand your ground and be okay by yourselves...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While there is a sense of sadness in this, knowing you are no longer so little, there is also a sense of pride. I am proud of you both...of who you are. I am proud you are growing and developing and really becoming your own individual people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is something truly amazing to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you both...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-9166091372438379937?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/9166091372438379937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/9166091372438379937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/activities.html' title='Activities...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8864179741131905008</id><published>2010-03-26T19:31:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T19:37:50.796-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Excitement</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we went to a little birthday party for your friend. You played and had a great time with your little guy friends...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...and then it came time to open presents.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't think I will ever forget your face as you watched your friend open his gifts. You stood up, your jaw dropped to the ground, you clasped your hands over your mouth, and your eyes lit up! YOU WERE SO EXCITED.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was the funniest, most wonderful thing to watch...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You have such a personality...and I love it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8864179741131905008?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8864179741131905008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8864179741131905008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/excitement.html' title='Excitement'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8910009541740700467</id><published>2010-03-25T19:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T19:48:56.693-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes, it's just love</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I have days, where at the end of the day, through the good and bad, it comes down to just loving you.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today that's what I want you to know. That I love you. All of you. Lots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel truly blessed you are in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8910009541740700467?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8910009541740700467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8910009541740700467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/sometimes-its-just-love.html' title='Sometimes, it&apos;s just love'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-1307979739404203892</id><published>2010-03-24T19:23:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T08:15:55.508-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A cheerful disposition</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we went on a little trip to a town about an hour away, so I could pick up something I needed. You slept so nicely on the drive down...and when you woke up, you were happy and ready to go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We ran my errand and then I took you and Spencer to lunch with me. After eating, we went to the playplace. You and Spencer both played so nicely. I was feeling like it was time to go, and without saying anything to you, you came right over to me and said you were ready, got your shoes on and snuggled up to me. There were some other moms there, who were just in awe at how good you were. My heart just swelled! I was so proud of you...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know every time isn't this way...trust me....but this one time just made my day...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-1307979739404203892?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1307979739404203892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1307979739404203892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/cheerful-disposition.html' title='A cheerful disposition'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-327176461675386128</id><published>2010-03-22T19:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T07:22:56.667-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Like a Young lady...</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are such a funny little girl. One thing I love is your longing to speak like an adult. It makes for some pretty funny sounding conversations...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, Kaden was screaming...not a bad scream, but a high pitched scream...he was trying to get everyone to join in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You started to get in on the fun, but then stopped abruptly and turned to him and said, "Kaden, you are screaming like a young lady!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It made me laugh, really hard. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you silly girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-327176461675386128?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/327176461675386128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/327176461675386128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/like-young-lady.html' title='Like a Young lady...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8148138180276675436</id><published>2010-03-21T18:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T18:42:32.615-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gardeners</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4018/4457731615_1ea94e3cef.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 332px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4018/4457731615_1ea94e3cef.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, even though there was a chill in the air, you insisted on going to out water the sprouting flowers. I peeked out the window at one point to see you all digging...not taking the flowers out of the ground, but digging around them, looking so productive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You stayed out there for a good, long while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I went out to talk to you about it, you all told me everything there was to know about your plants. :) It was very cute...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you, my little gardeners.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MOM&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8148138180276675436?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8148138180276675436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8148138180276675436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/gardeners.html' title='Gardeners'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4018/4457731615_1ea94e3cef_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8117416879812263530</id><published>2010-03-20T18:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T18:46:41.319-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Eyes wide shut. :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4034/4457729703_23342cf5a5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 332px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4034/4457729703_23342cf5a5.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Spencer,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You can be such a happy little guy...and I absolutely love your cheerful squeals and funny looks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the one that takes the cake is your smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You love, LOVE when I take your picture. Without any prompting you pull this face...the one with the eyes tightly shut and the smile ear to ear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I snap a shot...which is immediately followed by you running up to me yelling "SEE, SEE".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love it. And I love you...my little smiler.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8117416879812263530?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8117416879812263530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8117416879812263530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/eyes-wide-shut.html' title='Eyes wide shut. :)'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4034/4457729703_23342cf5a5_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5766561782105361560</id><published>2010-03-19T21:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T21:51:29.664-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I put on a cheap clearance maternity shirt I got the other day. It was a print I would not normally choose, but due to lack of funds and the frustration I have encountered shopping, I snatched every clearance shirt I could find in my size.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was trying not to care what anyone thought of this shirt...and I think I had myself convinced that it didn't matter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But as you saw me come down the stairs, you looked at me in awe and said, "mom, your shirt is SO beautiful."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I smiled and said, "you think it is?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You came up close and admired it...and responded once again, "oh yes, mom...it is SO beautiful."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realized then that it DID matter what people thought. Well, really it mattered what YOU thought. You thought it was beautiful. And you saying that very thing, made my feel so good that even if everyone else in the whole world hated it, I would wear it a million times over just because I know how much you love this shirt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You made my day little man...you made me feel like a princess...and you made this $5 shirt feel like a million bucks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5766561782105361560?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5766561782105361560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5766561782105361560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/beautiful.html' title='Beautiful'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-3811672612796091882</id><published>2010-03-18T21:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T21:44:42.746-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Absence makes the heart grow fonder...</title><content type='html'>Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was not a good day. Not for you. Not for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is much of me that wanted to blame my terrible attitude on you guys...for all the wrongdoings and the fighting and the stress you caused. But after thinking about it for a while, I just couldn't. I couldn't blame you guys for living life...and having a bump in the road...the very same way I was today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But even then, it didn't make things easier. At the end of the day, I was done...I needed a break. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I found myself running an errand, and wandering through Walmart picking up a few things. Somehow, I ended up walking through the toy aisle. I could just see your faces so clearly in my mind, smiling and so happy...I could picture what would make you THRILLED to play with...and picture you giggling about this and that. It made me miss you...the very people I was wanting so desperately to escape from for a few minutes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess the moral of my story today is that when it is said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, it is true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This I know. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you all. Even on the really bad days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-3811672612796091882?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3811672612796091882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3811672612796091882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/absence-makes-heart-grow-fonder.html' title='Absence makes the heart grow fonder...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-4174732903430608480</id><published>2010-03-17T16:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T16:48:38.821-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shamrocks</title><content type='html'>Dear Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today is St. Patricks Day. In my efforts to get everyone out the door on time and to our respective places, we didn't get to celebrate a whole lot in the morning. But I made sure each of you had a 4 leaf clover drawn in green on your hands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You were each so proud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And nobody got pinched. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was just a good day with you. The boys and I spent time at the park, and Jenna had a good day at school...and you all played the afternoon away in the backyard. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just love these peaceful times...not PERFECT...but peaceful...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-4174732903430608480?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4174732903430608480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4174732903430608480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/shamrocks.html' title='Shamrocks'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-404637658953879163</id><published>2010-03-16T16:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T16:43:53.390-04:00</updated><title type='text'>After school...</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna, &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lately, I have been trying to turn off the radio, avoid the cell phone, and focus my ears on you and the boys on our 20 minute ride home from school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to say that they have become the most cherished 20 minutes of my day...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You chatter about everything that happened, about what's important to you, about silly jokes and people you care about. And the boys get involved too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love being a part of your day like that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-404637658953879163?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/404637658953879163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/404637658953879163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/after-school.html' title='After school...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-4701093612310279653</id><published>2010-03-15T16:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T16:45:42.566-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday night is family night...</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You have become very well accustomed to Monday night being our family night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know I have written about this before, but I just love your enthusiasm and love for our time together and our lessons we have. You encourage me to keep on going...to not give up...because even if I wanted to, I don't think you would let me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love Mondays...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-4701093612310279653?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4701093612310279653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4701093612310279653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/monday-night-is-family-night.html' title='Monday night is family night...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5181041209638948719</id><published>2010-03-12T14:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T14:56:15.349-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Your day</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had a completely different thing I was going to write about, until I tucked you in bed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You were throwing SUCH a big fit when it was time for scriptures and prayer. We made an agreement before that if you could not join us for that time, that you wouldn't get a special story in bed...when I usually go in and lay by you and we talk and have some time together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Knowing that you weren't going to get a story put you in even BIGGER hysterics!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You cried and screamed and threw a huge fit. I went in and tried to calm you down...offered to let you tell me a few things about your day, but you battled even that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The time went on, your crying went on...and eventually I went back for one final time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I laid by you and stroked your hair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You asked me to tell you 3 things about my day, which I did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then you asked if I you could tell ME 3 things. The logical side of me wanted to say no--that you had your chance. But the heart side of me laid next to you and loved you...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I told you my 3 things...and you told me yours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. It was the last day of testing at school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Tomorrow was Saturday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. "The most special thing of all..." (said while whimpering)..."that you loved me".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am SO glad I spent that time with you...I am. My heart was right this time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5181041209638948719?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5181041209638948719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5181041209638948719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/your-day.html' title='Your day'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7691260125558139543</id><published>2010-03-11T20:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T20:26:58.711-05:00</updated><title type='text'>At the car wash</title><content type='html'>Dear boys,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we decided to wash the car, since it was GORGEOUS outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We pulled into the car wash and vacuumed the car first. When I went to pull it forward, I realized you guys had locked the car with my keys inside. After what seemed like forever, I coaxed you to unlock the doors...it was a tough job though! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You both stared in awe at the bubbles, the power washer, the water everywhere. You were grinning ear to ear. You were completely intrigued. I could have watched you watch ME all afternoon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You guys sure do make me smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7691260125558139543?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7691260125558139543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7691260125558139543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/at-car-wash.html' title='At the car wash'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8460500356465498638</id><published>2010-03-10T19:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T14:23:15.425-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Silly</title><content type='html'>Dear boys,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I was folding laundry. LOTS of laundry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went to put some away and came back to you both dressed up with underwear on your heads and shirts on your legs...shorts around your arms and socks wherever they would stick.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It made me laugh...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love the silly side of life you both bring...it makes the day seem so much brighter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8460500356465498638?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8460500356465498638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8460500356465498638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/silly.html' title='Silly'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-3461797699298481352</id><published>2010-03-09T19:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T14:21:46.592-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The birthday date...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2770/4432202415_9946bf73de.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 200px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2770/4432202415_9946bf73de.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As our birthday tradition goes, when it's my birthday I always take each of you on our own special date to somewhere I have a birthday freebie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Texas Roadhouse is ALWAYS your special place. YOU LOVE the peanuts there. In fact, I think that's the whole reason you like eating there. The peanuts. Every time we pass it, you ask, "mom, can we go eat at Peanuts today??"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So my birthday freebie there is always with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were so cute all dressed up in running pants, a t-shirt, and a striped tie clipped on over top. All if it your choice. You made the perfect date...insisting on sitting next to me, cuddling up to me time after time and saying you loved me...munching peanuts in between hugs and sharing our dinner together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone smiled at your tie--and it made me smile so much bigger. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was proud to be with you. I was proud to be your mom...your birthday date.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you for sharing our special place...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-3461797699298481352?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3461797699298481352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3461797699298481352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/birthday-date.html' title='The birthday date...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2770/4432202415_9946bf73de_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5427215138734832096</id><published>2010-03-08T19:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T20:22:52.524-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was my birthday. My 30th birthday to be exact.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I cannot think of a better way to spend my birthdays than with you guys. You all make having a special day just that...SPECIAL.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You each were SO excited about the card, the gifts, the party favors...and watching you enjoy the magic of the day took me back to a place when having a birthday was a magical thing for me too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jenna, your teacher sent a note home saying you marched right into class and proclaimed to everyone that it was your mom's birthday. She giggled about it. I did too. You wished me a happy birthday for several days BEFORE the actual day. You picked out party favors and a card with ballerinas all over it...because you KNEW I would love it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You just were SO thoughtful.. And that made me happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Watching all of you kids tonight as we celebrated by wearing the birthday bling (the gold medals that were chosen for each of us to wear) and blowing party horns, made me want to freeze that very moment. You were laughing...squealing...smiling. And oh, so happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will remember that always.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you for making my day so incredibly wonderful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5427215138734832096?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5427215138734832096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5427215138734832096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/birthday.html' title='Birthday'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-3609743604580048622</id><published>2010-03-07T19:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T20:17:27.729-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Handsome little man</title><content type='html'>Dear Spencer,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just want you to know that today, you were so handsome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You wore the same thing you wear most Sundays to church...but I just caught glimpses of you growing into this little boy who is so independent and grown up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You have a smile that just lights up the room...and you are always the ringleader for a good time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess, I just wanted you to know that today I noticed you...the special little you that today, was SO handsome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you little guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-3609743604580048622?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3609743604580048622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3609743604580048622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/handsome-little-man.html' title='Handsome little man'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8631332300913279136</id><published>2010-03-06T13:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T13:51:32.306-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maple sugaring...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4029/4417068471_31fdb445c7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 333px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4029/4417068471_31fdb445c7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Dear Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we had a great day together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not perfect. But great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went out and explored how maple syrup is made, on a gorgeous sunny day. We trapsed through the woods, looked at trees, tasted sap, and had mini pancakes with fresh syrup.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jenna, you were totally into it...you soaked it all in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kaden,  you were pretty bored and just wanted to eat lunch... :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Spencer, you were just along for the ride with your cute smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was so funny to see how you each reacted...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's one thing I love. That you are all so different...and respond different to circumstances.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is yet another thing that amazes me about raising you...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you all...thank you for a fun day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8631332300913279136?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8631332300913279136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8631332300913279136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/maple-sugaring.html' title='Maple sugaring...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4029/4417068471_31fdb445c7_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-2698603123316006980</id><published>2010-03-05T17:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T13:51:22.839-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Glimpses...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dear sweet boys...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;You know, when we found out what we were having, I was stunned. It wasn't that we weren't happy to have another boy...it was more because I just couldn't PICTURE what our family would look like, and be like with so many BOYS! :)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, today I caught some glimpses of our future when we babysat 2 of your little friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4051/4410056608_a9d5856ea1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 332px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4051/4410056608_a9d5856ea1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2692/4409293073_24ba43f1d1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2692/4409293073_24ba43f1d1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I think in our future we will be seeing...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;lots of climbing, chasing, jumping, tackling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think we will be hearing...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;lots of screaming, laughing, squealing, shouting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think you will be friends...good friends...and rivals, seconds later. :) And then you will make up and run away laughing together to find one more place to hang from and explore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I also think I will be tired. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am grateful for glimpses...of you sweet boys...and what life will probably be like.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MOM&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-2698603123316006980?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2698603123316006980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2698603123316006980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/glimpses.html' title='Glimpses...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4051/4410056608_a9d5856ea1_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8685847194629772532</id><published>2010-03-04T21:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T14:06:04.251-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Our time.</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday is coming up. And that means it's our special birthday one-on-one date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You needed some new shoes, so we headed out to find some, and then pick up dessert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was only one shoe on your mind...a flat ballet style shoe with no buckle. Period. You were on a mission to find that particular shoe. However, your feet are so small, that finding a pair of ballet flats with no buckles is close to impossible. We discovered that after searching not one, not two, but 3 stores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In store one you tried on every ballet flat they had--all WAY too big.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In store two, you tried on everything glittery--and asked about EVERY single ballet flat--again, all of which were too big.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Store three was our last chance. When we walked in, clearly discouraged, you said to me, "mom, I don't care WHAT kind of shoe I find, I just want a new pair!" The shoe department there was the jackpot for you. They had so much to choose from! You laid out numerous shoes (none that fit your previous mental image, but you were thrilled regardless!) and eeny-meeny-miney-moed over and over. At one point you said, "mom, you have GOT to get me out of this place! There is too much to choose from!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made me laugh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You held my hand as we walked through the stores. You were just so cute to watch while you made the oh so important decision. And you looked so grown up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home, we stopped for a frosty and french fries--the perfect salty sweet combo. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had such a fun time together, talking and laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love our one on one time. Especially last night. Thank you for sharing that time with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8685847194629772532?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8685847194629772532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8685847194629772532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/our-time.html' title='Our time.'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-4110028439704876885</id><published>2010-03-03T21:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T13:27:34.979-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The phone call</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I went out to do some shopping--hoping to find some maternity clothes for me. Dad stayed home to put you guys in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While browsing through a store, I got a phone call from dad asking if I would talk to you for a minute. After the phone was passed, your little voice came on the line, asking for our nightly story. I huddled in a corner of the store, behind a rack of clothes, and told you a tale. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just loved hearing your voice--and knowing that you need me...still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope it's like that no matter how old you get..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-4110028439704876885?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4110028439704876885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4110028439704876885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/phone-call.html' title='The phone call'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7071483504206650434</id><published>2010-03-02T21:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T10:57:38.734-05:00</updated><title type='text'>At play</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dear boys,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we went to the Science Museum. It was just us, and the family we went with. So calm...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I loved watching you run around and explore. You both love the ball pit, and dive right in...Spencer, you spend much of your time there putting balls into the suction machine that shoots them into the ball dropper...and Kaden, you were a fan of the dress up area. You looked so cute working on the pretend car while wearing your police man outfit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love these times where you are so carefree.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7071483504206650434?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7071483504206650434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7071483504206650434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/at-play.html' title='At play'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-2455283544984729766</id><published>2010-03-01T21:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T10:55:19.538-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shock</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dear Kaden,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today's funny moment was courtesy of you. :) I wish I had been there to see this, but I was out running errands. Daddy called me though, as soon as it happened, laughing so hard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He recounted that you had been throwing a big fit about something, throwing yourself here and there. You ran into the bathroom still flailing around and somehow managed to hit the side of the bathtub in just the right way that you flopped right into it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That alone would have been funny. But even funnier was the fact that Spencer had tried to fill up the bathtub shortly before that and all he could get on was the cold water. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can just PICTURE your shocked face as you flopped head first, fully dressed, into a bathtub of cold water.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have laughed at that mental picture all night... :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks for making me smile today--even if it wasn't intentional. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MOM&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-2455283544984729766?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2455283544984729766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2455283544984729766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/03/shock.html' title='Shock'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5628739359697251819</id><published>2010-02-28T20:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T13:56:02.938-05:00</updated><title type='text'>3 words</title><content type='html'>Today's 2 hours of happiness were brought together by 3 simple words...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt; I made dough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Need I say more?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I Love you dough-playing little people so much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5628739359697251819?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5628739359697251819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5628739359697251819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/3-words.html' title='3 words'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5231202485031182665</id><published>2010-02-27T19:51:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T13:54:03.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You are special</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Kids,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's hard to narrow down just one thing that made me happy from today--so I will pick one for each of you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kaden, today you ran around with one of dad's socks on your leg. You announced in your best 3 year old superhero voice that you had superhero sock power,  and busted out the moves to match. You never fail to make us laugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Spencer, seeing Kaden do his superhero moves, encouraged you to do your own crazy dance moves...who knew you were such a good dancer? You seriously had dad and I sitting there with raised eyebrows wondering how you learned to move your body the way you did. Another fine moment was when we were reading stories and you pointed out all the colors correctly when asked. This is such a small thing, I know. But we were SO PROUD...you're learning and coming along, and we are so happy for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jenna--tonight at bedtime I got to lay in bed with you and talk to you about where you came from and why you are here on earth. We talked about needing to be more obedient and why it was important--and how special it was for your spirit to be here in our family. There are these tender moments, so infused with the spirit, that I hope we can always have. And most of all, I hope you remember how much I want us all to be together again, living with Heavenly Father. I can't imagine you not being with me...always.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you each. You are special and unique in your own ways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5231202485031182665?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5231202485031182665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5231202485031182665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/you-are-special.html' title='You are special'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7607751524603425617</id><published>2010-02-26T08:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T08:37:13.268-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow day snuggles</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dear Jenna,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Today was officially declared a snow day. I have to say that I think I was more excited than you were...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So seeing how I didn't have to get up and get everyone ready by a certain time, and trudge through the snow and bad roads, I jumped back in my bed and snuggled under the covers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You came right in and laid next to me...in the dark, we talked with daddy...just letting the minutes slip by without a care in the world. Eventually dad had to get ready to leave so it left just you and me to snuggle, until just moments later, Spencer joined us with a book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there we were this morning, you and me and Spencer and a book, snuggled in a big bed while the wind whipped around outside and the snow poured down outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think every day should be a snow day if they include mornings like this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you, and am excited to have you home today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7607751524603425617?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7607751524603425617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7607751524603425617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/snow-day-snuggles.html' title='Snow day snuggles'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-6482276414265850679</id><published>2010-02-25T20:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T08:30:08.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Doing the Macaroni</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today for dinner we had homemade macaroni. You are a mac and cheese kind of guy, no matter how it comes, so you were especially excited about this dinner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You have a dance for everything, it seems. And tonight was no different. You busted out your moves and did the macaroni dance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It made us all laugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are good at that... :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-6482276414265850679?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6482276414265850679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6482276414265850679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/doing-macaroni.html' title='Doing the Macaroni'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-6190208690874123227</id><published>2010-02-24T20:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T08:48:11.554-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A look back...</title><content type='html'>Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I found such joy in rereading the posts I have written in this journal. During quiet time I read through what I have written, tearing up during some, laughing during others...and remembering so vividly the times I had written about. It is amazing how after writing something down on paper it becomes engraved in your memory too. Even if you forget temporarily, somehow rereading those words beings it all back...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think that is one thing I love most about this journal. It is allowing me to record the precious times I have so often let slip away only to blow away like a leaf in the wind. It is allowing me to go back through and SEE how many great times we had had together...how many moments of inspiration I have had...and what beautiful, wonderful kids you are. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have realized lately, that there has been a change in me as well. I feel a little more patient (not perfect..not even close...but working on being better). I feel more empathy towards you...I feel more connected to you. I have heard more I love you's...I have been given more hugs...and I think I have done the same thing in return.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This has truly given me a change of heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I still have frustrating days. I still have a short temper sometimes. And I still have a lot of areas to work on. But in the past month and a half I have felt even a small portion of the great change I see is possible. And I am excited to see how much better we can become...together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you. Thank you for loving me. It is truly the greatest gift one can be given...to be loved by a child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-6190208690874123227?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6190208690874123227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6190208690874123227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/look-back.html' title='A look back...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-1389586634097147614</id><published>2010-02-23T22:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T10:15:32.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The simple life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;Dear kids,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sometimes I find that I become so preoccupied with finding the perfect distraction for you all that I forget how simple life can be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Case in point: EVERY time I make anything with dough (bread, pizza, rolls, etc) you ALWAYS ask for some to play with. And you play with it for HOURS. You haul it all over the house. You make funny shapes. You even take it in the car if I let you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was one of those days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as I was standing in the kitchen kneading my dough with you boys surrounding me, playing with your own dough, it hit me how SIMPLE life can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not about WHAT toys we have or how many...it's not about the batteries or the computer games or the fun TV shows you have to watch. It's not about the perfect organization system or the colorful educational books I have bought or any other little thing I think you need to have entertainment throughout the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It IS, however, playing with dough, and imagining with cardboard boxes...it's playing in the snow with my funnel set, and pretending to be a cleaner with my basting brush. It's quiet moments where I can see your little brains working a million miles a minute...and watching you create the most wonderful things out of nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is the simple life...the good life...the life I have often abandoned for one that was "well thought out" and "entertaining".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am grateful for today...for pieces of dough...and for your reminder that the simple life is often the best life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-1389586634097147614?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1389586634097147614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1389586634097147614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/simple-life.html' title='The simple life'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-2470970081715959176</id><published>2010-02-22T21:06:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T16:12:35.692-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You make me better...</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This afternoon was hard. REALLY hard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was screaming and crying and fighting and such.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I felt like a failure for not knowing how to get everyone in line and under control.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had dinner, and the whole time I was thinking--tonight, we are NOT having family night. We are going to take baths and watch a movie and go to bed. I can't deal with everyone not listening to a lesson. I just can't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But all through dinner, you asked...all of you. "Is tonight our meeting?" (that's what you call it... :) "Mom, what's our meeting about?" etc...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when I let you know we might not have it, you protested. You insisted we did have it. You wouldn't let me quit...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we all knelt in our circle on the floor to have our family night lesson. And you all sat there, listening. I felt such peace. And I think about that bit of peace I would have missed if I had gone with my head instead of my heart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You kids make me better. You do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you for pushing me, when I need a little shove in the right direction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-2470970081715959176?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2470970081715959176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2470970081715959176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/you-make-me-better.html' title='You make me better...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-892424998799830011</id><published>2010-02-21T20:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T13:01:13.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The funny guy</title><content type='html'>Dear Spencer,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight at dinner, you thought you were a real comedian. And I have to say that seeing you laugh so hard, brought all my giggles to the surface too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You stood behind me as I was eating, and tapped on my shoulder. As soon as I would turn around, your hands would cover your gigantic smile and you would start laughing hysterically.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This went on and on, over and over...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You really are a funny guy and you make us laugh so often...just another thing I love about you, and about my day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you lots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-892424998799830011?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/892424998799830011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/892424998799830011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/funny-guy.html' title='The funny guy'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-6271988587725896548</id><published>2010-02-20T12:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T12:58:13.435-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Clean up, clean up</title><content type='html'>Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I attempted to involve you all in the mundane chores of the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While the attention spans didn't last too long, when you WERE involved, you were excited. Jenna, you went above and beyond and not only cleaned the bathroom sink, but the toilet as well. I say, you're hired...any day! :) Kaden, you did a great job picking up the toys and getting them...well...almost all the way downstairs. And Spencer, you were so proud to hold up your little list with 2 jobs, the first being to put away all the shoes from the living room, and the second being to be good. :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Those 10 minutes of assistance and working together made me truly feel happy...and I love that you guys were excited to help out...may that attitude last for a good long time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-6271988587725896548?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6271988587725896548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6271988587725896548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/clean-up-clean-up.html' title='Clean up, clean up'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-9190874677882746101</id><published>2010-02-19T13:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T14:07:57.938-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Overworked and Underappreciated</title><content type='html'>Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was feeling completely overwhelmed this morning. The house didn't get as clean as I wanted last night, and it threw the whole day off. I was rushing to meet your demands for breakfast and drinks and everything else, trying to hurry you through so we could get Jenna to school on time, and taking care of my long to-do list.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have tried so hard to keep it all together lately...to keep up on laundry and cleaning and cooking homemade meals every night. I have felt such a sense of pride in doing so. I love being a mom, and I know it's a lot of work. But one thing you probably won't realize until you are a parent with small children, is that all that work and all the to-do lists and things you will have to go through to hold life together are so much easier if you feel appreciated every now and then. And let's face it...that doesn't always happen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So today, I found myself crying in the shower. Kicking myself for letting life get to me, and feeling overwhelmed and lonely...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then Kaden, in the car on the way to take Jenna to school, out of the blue you said, "mom, I love you". And it was like those 4 words took away all the sadness and frustration of my morning...it made a difference to me. It really did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And you know what? It also made me realize something else...that sometimes you guys may just need those moments of I love you...I appreciate you...not that I don't say those things. But that maybe you have times where you feel like I did...and you don't need things to be transformed somehow, you just need to know that you are loved and appreciated for you who are and what you do...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you for this sweet lesson...and for loving me, despite my many flaws.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am glad I am your mom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-9190874677882746101?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/9190874677882746101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/9190874677882746101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/overworked-and-underappreciated.html' title='Overworked and Underappreciated'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-8360671767939565851</id><published>2010-02-18T22:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T13:56:08.259-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The perfect gift</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, after a long while of pleading, I let you go outside in the snow. You are just the cutest to watch exploring and playing out there...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had let you go out for a few minutes alone while I finished putting Spencer down for a nap. But I was surprised when you popped your head in a couple minutes later and said you needed me. I hurried to the back door, and your sweet smile met me there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With big, sincere eyes you said...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"mom, I have got the BEST present for you...a SNOWBALL!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was the perfect gift little buddy... :) Thank you for thinking of me and making me smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-8360671767939565851?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8360671767939565851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/8360671767939565851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/perfect-gift.html' title='The perfect gift'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-1614664530938264190</id><published>2010-02-17T22:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T06:46:32.906-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My little snuggle bug...</title><content type='html'>Dear Spencer,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight, before bed, you smacked your poor little face right into the door. It called for some serious lovin'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So while the other kids brushed teeth and finished getting ready for bed, you sat with me in the rocking chair...the very chair we bought just after you were born...and snuggled right up while I sang songs to you and we rocked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Snuggling you is one of the things I love the most...you are SUCH a great snuggler and you always have been. Thank you for letting me hold you so close tonight and be reminded of how much joy and love you bring to our family. You are such a special little guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-1614664530938264190?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1614664530938264190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1614664530938264190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-little-snuggle-bug.html' title='My little snuggle bug...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-1385842181371746387</id><published>2010-02-16T13:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T13:58:19.791-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Toys, Toys for good girls and boys</title><content type='html'>Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we went to the toy library and picked out some stuff to check out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is one of your favorite things to do...and I love sharing new stuff with you without paying for it. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've got to say though, that the joy I found today was in the 20 minutes of peace you gave me while you explored the new goods downstairs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you for some me time...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-1385842181371746387?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1385842181371746387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1385842181371746387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/toys-toys-for-good-girls-and-boys.html' title='Toys, Toys for good girls and boys'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-900614951297501257</id><published>2010-02-15T17:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T17:58:25.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love...</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight you asked what our Family Night lesson would be about. I told you it would be about how Jesus showed us how to love others. You were SO excited about the lesson.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You offered to say the prayer at dinner. In it you said, "and please help all the people who don't know what love is..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We hadn't even had the lesson yet! :) But it made my heart happy to know it was on your mind and you were anxious to learn...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You make me proud...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-900614951297501257?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/900614951297501257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/900614951297501257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/love.html' title='Love...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-4162850400818008490</id><published>2010-02-14T21:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T18:09:02.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Living life like a second chance...</title><content type='html'>It's Valentine's Day.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I hope you each know how much I love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You are the best gift one could ever receive...and you keep on giving year round. With your sweet smiles and hugs, and little personalities...I just love you so much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yet, there were many moments today where I felt overwhelmed and frustrated with each of you...for disobeying or for throwing fits...or some other thing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then I read a blog about a woman whose son accidentally drowned in a bathtub 2 weeks ago. He was just 16 months old...and he was announced DOA at the hospital.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But 2 weeks and a million miracles later, that same little boy was running on his own, out of the hospital. Can you imagine having a second chance at life like that? That very question is what was on my mind today, as I thought about each of you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What would I do if you were gone and then came back? What would I change? Would I do less yelling? Would I do more playing? Would we snuggle more? And how many memories would I be anxious to take advantage of?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess the truth is, I would do a lot different. I would BE a lot different. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am only human...I make so many mistakes...but yet I hope I can make the little changes to live life &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; time around like I would if there were a miraculous second time around...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is in my heart...it is my desire and what I hope I can give to each of you, the way you give so many things to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you all, my little Valentines.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-4162850400818008490?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4162850400818008490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4162850400818008490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/living-life-like-second-chance.html' title='Living life like a second chance...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5758498378729839707</id><published>2010-02-13T20:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T20:54:51.915-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chitter chatter</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today you talked and talked and talked. All day. You talked. You talked about people texting you on your pretend cell phone, and you chanted your way through playing on the Wii, and you did play by plays of every single thing that happened during our day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;IT WAS HILARIOUS.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You said so many things I can't even begin to write them all...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just love seeing how your personality is developing...it's one of the most incredible miracles ever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you little chatterbox!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5758498378729839707?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5758498378729839707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5758498378729839707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/chitter-chatter.html' title='Chitter chatter'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-868871738201182714</id><published>2010-02-12T20:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T20:51:22.603-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A good man...</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we had a great day together. I found a million joyful moments I could write about.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I wanted to write about an experience that reminded me of extreme joy...and that would be dad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight, daddy brought home some flowers--one pink, for Jenna, and one red, for me. He sneaked them inside and had Kaden and Spencer go in and sign cards for each of us to wish us a Happy Valentine's Day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then he had you boys bring them up to Jenna and I.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was so touched. I loved that he thought of Jenna too, and that he involved the boys. One thing I love about daddy is that he really wants to teach you each how to be GOOD...but especially for the boys to grow up knowing how to be good and respectful men.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope you each know that the most important reason I married your daddy is because he IS a good man...a very good one. I hope you see that in his hard work and dedication...and in the way he plays with you guys...and most importantly, I hope you see it especially in the way he treats me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-868871738201182714?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/868871738201182714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/868871738201182714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/good-man.html' title='A good man...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7151963040999259378</id><published>2010-02-11T21:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T20:42:27.995-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A little snuggle...</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was an exciting day for me....it was Jenna's last day of school for the week, and the beginning of a 4 day weekend. I AM SO EXCITED! I love having you all home...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had a nice, simple dinner and then after you each took a bath and got pj's on, we all snuggled on the couch and watched Harold and the Purple Crayon together. We laughed, and I listened to your funny comments...and I loved every moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also realized that in the hundreds of times you have watched that show, I don't think I have ever seen the whole thing through...in fact, I don't think I have watched many of your favorite shows all the way through...and that's something I want to change.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a good way to end the day...snuggling close to each of you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7151963040999259378?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7151963040999259378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7151963040999259378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/little-snuggle.html' title='A little snuggle...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-4843817966262142316</id><published>2010-02-10T20:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T12:28:36.594-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Valentine</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Dear Jenna,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Today was such a busy day for me. Running here and there in the middle of a snowstorm...trying to keep up with paperwork and stuff daddy needed done for school...I was exhausted! And after spending much of my day in the snow, I just wanted to come home and snuggle up in a big blanket.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And then I remembered that tomorrow is your last day of school for the week, meaning that it would be the day you bring Valentine's cards. I didn't want you to get to school and be crushed when other people were passing things out, and you had nothing, so we got all bundled up again and went back out into the blowing snow to go to the store.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt; I have to admit, the whole time I was thinking..."you owe me. You owe me big. You owe me for dragging myself out in the cold to make sure you have stinkin' cards to pass out...and you owe me for doing your laundry and making your lunch and bringing you a special snack after school every day and cleaning your room...and you owe me for all the times you go to the school nurse with silly ailments (like a potential loose tooth) that result in me getting called or notes sent home with instructions to give you pain medication...oh it makes me feel like such a lousy mom!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;But then as we got back in the car to go home, I listened to you count to 100 twice...and watched you tromp through the deep snow instead of the nicely shoveled path...and when we got home and you were in bed, I told you we would wakeup early so you could write you name on them. You were taken back...and crushed...because somewhere in all this you had thought you were sending Valentine cards in the mail, to everyone in the world...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;And it was then I realized that it isn't you who owes me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;It is me that owes YOU...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;for teaching me that there are more people to think about in life than just myself...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;and for showing me that sometimes the best path is the one not already taken...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;and for making me see that you are one incredible little girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I love you Jenna.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I always will.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Love, mom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-4843817966262142316?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4843817966262142316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4843817966262142316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/valentine.html' title='The Valentine'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7410394033584499241</id><published>2010-02-09T13:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T12:01:51.932-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Storytime...I have missed you.</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think that for a long time I was relieved when daddy was there to take over for stories and give me a break. It was nice to skip out and give someone else the chance to read...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But after being sick and hacking up a lung for way too long, I realized I MISSED it. I missed reading and singing and talking with you...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And so today, I read...and I read...and I read some more. You snuggled close and listened to every word, and anxiously helped turn the pages. I loved it. Lots. I hope I don't ever take something so simple as reading to you for granted, ever again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It made my day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7410394033584499241?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7410394033584499241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7410394033584499241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/storytimei-have-missed-you.html' title='Storytime...I have missed you.'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-1039534875620855579</id><published>2010-02-08T22:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T12:10:00.850-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I will obey...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dear kids,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Tonight we had a family night lesson on obedience. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want you to know I am really trying to do what's right...even though you all don't sit still and your mouths and bodies are moving a mile a minute while we try to read scriptures and say prayers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am trying. Daddy and I are trying together. But some nights it's just me. That is part of life right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kaden helped me make copies of the coloring pages, and we worked on the lesson. So when it came time to have it, we colored our little puppet people and put them on a popsicle stick so you could hold them in your hand. And we did a little role play with the puppets...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would ask things like, "Jenna, will you please clean up your room?" or "Kaden, will you please pick up the trash?" and each person would respond with their puppet, "I will obey".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We said it so many times, that to an outsider it probably sounded like brainwashing. :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want you each to know that tonight, in the little circle we made sitting on the floor coloring paper people and talking about obedience, is how I want to remember being a mom. YOUR mom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you. And I love that our family can be forever...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-1039534875620855579?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1039534875620855579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1039534875620855579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-will-obey.html' title='I will obey...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7171967153742741521</id><published>2010-02-07T19:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T20:24:06.895-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is this....?</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I worked all afternoon on a wonderful Mexican feast. I marinated the meat for carne asada tacos and put all the fresh taco toppings in bowls, and we set out together to make homemade tortillas...we worked so hard on everything and I was so excited to eat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As we sat down for dinner, you looked at the taco I had placed on your plate and picked through the delicious carne asada pieces and exclaimed, "Mom, is this poop?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While it totally crushed my hard working heart, I have giggled about it all afternoon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You always say the funniest things...and that makes me really, really happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7171967153742741521?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7171967153742741521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7171967153742741521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/is-this.html' title='Is this....?'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7883071867721963670</id><published>2010-02-06T21:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T22:00:02.104-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast in bed isn't all it's cracked up to be.</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I got up early with you all, like usual, and decided we would make pancakes for breakfast. You love it when I make your pancake shaped as the first letter of your name. And as I was making them, daddy offered to let me go back to sleep and he would bring me breakfast in bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was ECSTATIC!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I raced upstairs and back into my cozy bed. I laid there snuggled up, nice and warm, and eventually daddy brought me a stack of pancakes to eat while I read emails and such.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a moment I should have been thrilled to have...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I wasn't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead, I heard your happy voices downstairs, devouring your letter pancakes and laughing and having a great time. And every part of me wished I was downstairs with you...taking in the morning together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You guys make life more fun. You do. And I love the good times we have together...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just wanted you to know that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7883071867721963670?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7883071867721963670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7883071867721963670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/breakfast-in-bed-isnt-all-its-cracked.html' title='Breakfast in bed isn&apos;t all it&apos;s cracked up to be.'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-3779683847600760519</id><published>2010-02-05T21:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T21:53:14.339-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When?</title><content type='html'>Dear Spencer,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought about you a lot today. You are growing up so fast. Sometimes I look at you and I have to do a double-take to make sure it's really YOU!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of my favorite things is to watch when daddy takes you to the bathroom before we go to bed. You are SOOOO sleepy, and so daddy carries your body in his arms....the very same little body that used to be snuggled so small in one compact little bundle is now composed of legs that dangle down and arms that wrap around daddy's shoulders.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When, little Spence, did you get so big? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When did I blink and let it happen?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been watching you closely...watching to make sure you wouldn't grow up too fast on me. But yet, you somehow have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It just makes me want to take a full day to snuggle, and hold you so close, because every single day you seem to be THAT much older...that much more independent.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And my love for you grows THAT much more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you little man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-3779683847600760519?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3779683847600760519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3779683847600760519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/when.html' title='When?'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5165439894098299591</id><published>2010-02-04T18:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T11:09:45.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Boy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4020/4332083997_2884a7ec46.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 345px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4020/4332083997_2884a7ec46.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear baby inside of me,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I got to go for a last minute ultrasound. As the technician searched around my belly to make sure everything was okay inside, it became clear as day that YOU are a boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must say I sat in silence, mulling it all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A boy? Another boy? Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just so surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It isn't that I didn't WANT a boy...that isn't the case at all. I just don't think I have ever pictured ME having so many boys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I let that fact sink in as I watched the rest of the ultrasound...your little heart fluttering, your perfect hands and feet, your cute profile, the way your legs stuck straight up, and how you flipped right over when the technician was trying to get a good shot. I found myself in complete awe watching  you...this little person inside of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I never pictured a family with so many boys...but sweet little guy, I just can't picture this family without YOU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for being such a joyous surprise today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to meet you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. if you have any brilliant ideas for names, please send them our way. We are completely stumped.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5165439894098299591?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5165439894098299591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5165439894098299591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/oh-boy.html' title='Oh Boy!'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4020/4332083997_2884a7ec46_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-4957535759643142794</id><published>2010-02-03T18:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T06:34:36.486-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes it's not a moment...</title><content type='html'>Today as I looked for a moment of joy to record here, I just could not pinpoint ONE. There was so many little snippets of my day that flashed through my mind as I sat down to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I came to the conclusion that sometimes joy is not found in just one moment. But rather all those little moments make up the most wonderful feeling of joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hugs and snuggling, and the sibling-given nickname of best friend...it's the praise over dinner and the smiles after baths, and just looking at each child and loving that they are mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today joy was an experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I loved it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-4957535759643142794?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4957535759643142794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4957535759643142794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/sometimes-its-not-moment.html' title='Sometimes it&apos;s not a moment...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5929586573676449556</id><published>2010-02-02T20:22:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T20:31:53.452-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fingerprints</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we had yogurt for breakfast. You took it upon yourself to smear it all over your hands and wipe it all over the window by the table.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was so mad. LIVID.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked you several times to stop, and you ignored me in 3 year old style.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This made me even MORE angry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But after getting Jenna to school and coming back home to take care of stuff, I saw those fingerprints over and over....and yet I could not bring myself to wipe them away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All I could think was that someone, somewhere, was probably wishing they had yogurt smeared all over their windows. Perhaps it was someone who has lost a child, or someone who has not yet been able to have one, or someone whose child will never be able to use their hands to make messes like that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It stayed on my mind all day...those fingerprints...and you. And how lucky I am to have you, messes and all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I realized how truly lucky I am when I was making you an apron today and you ran upstairs and exclaimed, "oh mom! My favorite color! Blue stripes!!!" And you hugged me as I held up the apron against your little body and you said, "mom, you make the BEST aprons EVER!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, Mr. Kaden. I will take those fingerprints all over my window every day of the year if it means I have you here with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5929586573676449556?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5929586573676449556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5929586573676449556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/fingerprints.html' title='Fingerprints'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-4012281738918751768</id><published>2010-02-01T19:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T20:05:53.302-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One happy girl</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today you were such an angel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was your first day back to school after missing a whole week. You told me on the way to school that you were so excited to just get out of that house! I couldn't agree more. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After school you were anxious to show me all your papers and things that filled your neglected backpack. Boy do we have a lot to catch up on! You walked me through your day and talked to me while we made dinner together, and you then gobbled up every bite on your plate!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You did a workout with daddy today--which you love. You are quite the little exercise champ! And when it came time for scriptures and prayer you sat still and listened quietly and did just as we asked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It isn't that I love you MORE when you are so good, but I love seeing the wonderful girl you ARE when you behave so well. It makes me feel so proud of you and all you are becoming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a good day, my happy girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love you,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-4012281738918751768?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4012281738918751768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4012281738918751768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/02/one-happy-girl.html' title='One happy girl'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-6174342086047794784</id><published>2010-01-31T21:13:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T21:18:34.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Smoothies</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today with dinner I served fruit smoothies. Boy did you all think we had hit the jackpot! Definitely a crowd pleaser! Little did you know I was getting rid of leftovers.... :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the things that made me laugh the most was when Kaden took his fruit smoothie, straw and all, and set it by the bathtub while he soaked. Just seemed like we should plop on a pair of sunglasses and a swimsuit and move our bathtub to Hawaii. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If only. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, just a small little tidbit from a still sick day...loved watching you guys with your drinks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a feeling we will be drinking many more smoothies in the near future...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-6174342086047794784?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6174342086047794784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6174342086047794784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/smoothies.html' title='Smoothies'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-6028047632120572905</id><published>2010-01-30T16:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T16:50:04.721-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Choosing YOU</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been almost a week since I wrote. I hope you don't feel as if those days were ones I lacked any joy in being a mother. They were just days full of sickness...for all of us. And while I had lofty aspirations to make sure you knew every single day at least one joy I found in being your mom, this week proved to be an obstacle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning as I was laying somewhat lifeless on the couch, surrounded by &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;kleenex&lt;/span&gt; and sniffles and coughing, I flipped the channels on TV and came across a news station that was airing a segment on the rise of couple who are choosing to be childless. This immediately caught my attention, so I tuned in to hear WHY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One woman said she lacked maternal instinct and just had no desire from day one. Another woman said she had always wanted to have kids, but the longer she and her husband were married, the more comfortable they got with their life and realized that they always wanted it to be JUST THEM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must say that there have been times this week that I wished I wouldn't have had to take care of anyone else but me, especially being sick and still having to break up arguments, clean up messes, feed meals and snacks...but in all reality, those times are just a small part of the amazing deal I got being able to be a mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't imagine choosing not to have all the incredible experiences I have had as your mother. I can't imagine trading in the day each of you were born just so dad and I could have a nice income and freedom to go out all the time. I could never give up the time I have had watching each of you develop into a unique little person, and a combination of both daddy and I, so we could have fancy dinner parties and extended couples vacations. And I can't picture a family of 2. I just can't. Not when I have seen something so much more fulfilling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart breaks for the couples that are choosing to see so nearsighted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you know, little ones, that here have been so many funny moments this week, despite the sickness. I have learned that Jenna gets pretty loopy when she is sick (which is really funny), and Spencer asks for a tissue EVERY SINGLE time he sees someone else blow their nose, and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Kaden&lt;/span&gt; is a big time &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;snuggler&lt;/span&gt; when he's not feeling well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little things like that, are memories and tidbits I will tuck away in my heart...they make me smile. YOU each make me smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you. And I am so glad I CHOSE to have you. I can't think of a better way to spend my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-6028047632120572905?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6028047632120572905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6028047632120572905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/choosing-you.html' title='Choosing YOU'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7463855470268924961</id><published>2010-01-25T20:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T20:15:47.194-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blowing kisses</title><content type='html'>Dear Kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Every night when I am ready to leave your room after tucking you in, we have a ritual. You ALWAYS want to blow me out of the room with your kisses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You kiss your hands and blow the kiss, and I act as though I was hit with 80 mile an hour winds. Obviously &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;over exaggerated&lt;/span&gt;, I spin and fall backwards, each kiss and each step getting closer to the door until you blow the final BIG ONE and it blows me right outside the door.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is something we have done for a while now...and yet, tonight, I just realized that it is something I think I will really, really miss when you don't want to do it anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's definitely a highlight in my day...and it makes me so happy to make YOU happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Good night my little ones. Blowing kisses right back at you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7463855470268924961?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7463855470268924961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7463855470268924961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/blowing-kisses.html' title='Blowing kisses'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7408438899574581805</id><published>2010-01-24T20:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T20:12:07.291-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Play Doh</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Today we made Play Doh after church. Kaden LOVES play-doh and was THRILLED to get to play with it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was making some rolls at the kitchen table and he was sitting by me watching and rolling his little ball of play-doh in his hands. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All of a sudden he got a big smile and walked his little ball across the table to a piece of sticky bread dough. He said, "Mom, I'm a pomato (tomato)!" And as his little tomato plopped into the wad of sticky dough he exclaimed, "my pomato just stepped in GUM!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I laughed and laughed. What a creative little guy...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7408438899574581805?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7408438899574581805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7408438899574581805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/play-doh.html' title='Play Doh'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5769383668454659804</id><published>2010-01-23T20:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T20:30:28.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ice cream is such a dream...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4022/4301640253_4e80f3682a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 458px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4022/4301640253_4e80f3682a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Spencer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was our special day...just you and me and a trip to get ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your eyes got so big when you saw all the choices...and you said yes to about 8 flavors, but I got a double yes on the cake batter icecream with sprinkles in it. I think the sprinkles won you over...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your eyes and SMILE got even bigger when you saw the ice cream in the cone. YOU WERE SO EXCITED. You licked and licked and licked and hadn't even left evidence that any was eaten, except the ice cream all over your face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I sat across from each other, mostly in silence, eating our icecream and giggling over the drips that you left all over the table. I asked you questions, and got the same responses...squeals and smiles. So I left it at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had so mun fun watching you tackle a giant ice cream cone...it truly made me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you big boy...and I am so glad we had our time today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5769383668454659804?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5769383668454659804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5769383668454659804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/ice-cream-is-such-dream.html' title='Ice cream is such a dream...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4022/4301640253_4e80f3682a_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-1021471951344701899</id><published>2010-01-22T22:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T07:31:07.061-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Play</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a rough day...I have to admit it. Hard to get each of you in the right direction without fighting with me or each other. I was feeling stressed and sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But towards the end of the day we had company come over. And you guys ran to the basement to play in the toy room. One thing I love is hearing your screams and squeals coming from downstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could record those happy noises and play them back all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love hearing you happy. I do. And I hope I give you lots of reasons to feel that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-1021471951344701899?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1021471951344701899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1021471951344701899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/play.html' title='Play'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-6592981114047962219</id><published>2010-01-21T22:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T07:34:33.388-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MOOOOOOOM</title><content type='html'>Dear Spencer,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say few words right now, but MOM is top on the list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That makes me happy. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what makes me even HAPPIER is that every time we see each other, whether I've just come back from shopping, or come back upstairs from doing laundry, you open your arms SO BIG and yell "MOOOOOOOOM".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It cracks me up...and makes my heart VERY, very happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you little man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-6592981114047962219?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6592981114047962219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/6592981114047962219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/mooooooom.html' title='MOOOOOOOM'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-4407144099375455604</id><published>2010-01-20T19:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T19:24:12.012-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I still love you.</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a terrible day. I was a terrible mom. And I am pretty sure the fact that I cried all the way through reading Curious George tonight is a clue that I feel so sad about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't go back and change things from today. I can't erase the massive headache I had all morning or turn time back and make you guys have had naps or not fight or give me 2 seconds of peace. And I can't go back and respond differently when all those things didn't happen today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can still love you. I do. And I always will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am sorry about today....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-4407144099375455604?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4407144099375455604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4407144099375455604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-still-love-you.html' title='I still love you.'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-3200966422086050781</id><published>2010-01-19T07:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T07:25:32.223-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Silence.</title><content type='html'>Dear kids,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I say I liked our time best during a day because you kids were asleep. Those are the really rough, LOOOONG, endless days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today, I loved you best when you were asleep not because you misbehaved...but because I love to watch you each snuggle in with your eyes closed, in perfect peace and silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It gives me that moment (or many) to watch you and reflect on how amazing it is that you are here...that you once started off so small and have grown to something so big and wonderful. It is in those silent moments that I am shown a glimpse of how much Heavenly Father loves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gave me you. Each of you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for that, I am grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-3200966422086050781?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3200966422086050781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/3200966422086050781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/silence.html' title='Silence.'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-728939218587856657</id><published>2010-01-18T18:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T07:38:42.217-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Day</title><content type='html'>Dear family,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today there was no school for daddy or Jenna, so we decided to spend the whole day together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pizza for lunch and picking out dollar toys for each of you, and then a trip to the mall playplace filled our day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there is one thing that brings me the most joy of all, it's spending time as a family...seeing all of us together. I hope we all get very used to it, because that's where I want to be for eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you all,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-728939218587856657?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/728939218587856657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/728939218587856657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/family-day.html' title='Family Day'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-445627905140484481</id><published>2010-01-17T23:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T23:09:32.617-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SMILE!</title><content type='html'>Spencer is a boy of few words...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he is SO smart. And he is REALLY funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today he was standing next to me and started to snuggle with me. So I told him, "Spencer, you make me SO happy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked up and did his SMILE...intentionally completely squinty eyes with his teeth showing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally precious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-445627905140484481?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/445627905140484481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/445627905140484481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/smile.html' title='SMILE!'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-582086607996907056</id><published>2010-01-16T20:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T20:15:22.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Our morning PJ party</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today you woke up pretty early after hearing a weird sound...a sound that we also heard and didn't know what it was. As daddy and I were laying in bed trying to go back to sleep, I turned over to change positions and was startled by the shadow of a girl with long hair in a nightgown. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I screamed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And my screams scared you. So you crawled in bed with me and you and daddy and I laid there talking about what the noise could be and about the movie dad went and saw last night. And suddenly I got a brilliant idea that you and I should go to breakfast. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we hurried downstairs, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not wake the boys. And even though they ended up waking up, we sneaked out in our pajamas and went to Denny's.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think on many days I would have been ashamed to be seen in public in what I was wearing as pajamas...some old pink lounge pants and a teal t-shirt our landlord brought us from Hawaii. Let's just say that I was a fashion disaster...and I knew it. But I was so happy to have time with you...and to be going out for breakfast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;More acceptable than my outfit, however, was your cute princess jammie top and coordinating bottoms. However, I think that being 5 years old, you would have looked cute no matter what.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were seated at our table and pulled out the menu. I loved talking to you about all the choices--you knew exactly what you wanted. The dunkers...ball shaped pancakes with syrup hoops. It was very cute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While we waited we talked about all sorts of stuff. There was no crying, whining, complaining...none of that. Just you, my sweet girl, with your mind full of fascinating questions and cheerful conversation. I can honestly say, I enjoyed every minute with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At one point in our conversation, I asked if you were excited that you didn't have to school on Monday. Your answer was this..."oh yes! When I don't go to school, I get to stay home with my family. And I LOVE staying home with  my family. Even on days like Saturday..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You impressed me with your sincere answer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As we were finishing up, a woman who had been sitting nearby came up to us and said that you were the sweetest little girl ever, and that she was so pleased to see that a mom and daughter could have such rapport between each other.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;THAT MADE ME SO HAPPY...My heart swelled with joy to hear her say that....and I hope that we always have that special connection between us. I do. Whether it be over breakfast, or after school, or during a really hard time. I hope we have these moments together...often.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you Jenna girl...and I loved our time together today. It was the perfect way to start the morning...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-582086607996907056?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/582086607996907056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/582086607996907056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/our-morning-pj-party.html' title='Our morning PJ party'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-684712147191949280</id><published>2010-01-15T20:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T20:21:40.205-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear baby...</title><content type='html'>Dear baby,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You have been on my mind so much today...well, lately in general. I am so very aware of you growing inside, and the aches and pains I feel as a part of that. :) But I am also extremely aware of how much you will mean to our family...and how much you already DO mean to us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want you to know that YOU ARE LOVED. You are wanted, and you are being prayed for daily by daddy and I...and your brothers and sister. The thing that brings me the most &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;joy&lt;/span&gt; today, and as I have thought about how life will change when you enter this world, is that I can see Jenna and Kaden and Spencer ADORING you...loving you...cuddling you...singing songs and playing with you...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And my heart swells to think of all that love, all for you. One special little person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not know what the future holds. Sometimes I wish I did...except that then I think I would be afraid to take another step in life. :) But I do know that you have a very important role in this family. I feel that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am excited to meet you...in due time...and to hold your sweet little spirit in my arms as you join the family that is praying you here...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We love you sweet baby.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-684712147191949280?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/684712147191949280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/684712147191949280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-baby.html' title='Dear baby...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5225232026285036876</id><published>2010-01-14T22:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T23:02:31.081-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Prayer</title><content type='html'>Dear Jenna,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight you said family prayer. I love how you are including all these big words lately...utilizing every bit of your vocabulary...even if it doesn't make much sense. It is so cute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the prayer that you said tonight, along with the funny things you said (and re-said), you said "please bless mom to know I love her".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do, sweet girl. I do. And I love you too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5225232026285036876?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5225232026285036876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5225232026285036876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/family-prayer.html' title='Family Prayer'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5631605834455843268</id><published>2010-01-13T19:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T20:11:35.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The concert</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4012/4277945568_88861c9680.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 167px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4012/4277945568_88861c9680.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear kids,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight you asked if you could put on a concert for daddy and I.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We agreed and put some dance music on for you all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Within seconds you were all bustin' moves and swinging your bodies all over the place. It was SO funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Daddy and I sat on the couch together, holding hands and watching you. At one point in the song (Taylor Swift...because you are ALL fans) the words were sang "I keep thinking this is how it ought to be..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While I know the song was really referring to romantic interests between a boy and girl, I couldn't help but look at each of you crazily swinging all over the living room and think to myself, "THIS is how it ought to be..." laughing, and loving, and enjoying each other.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This IS how it ought to be. Each of you a part of this family...with room for another little spirit to come and be a part of our family....to join in the laughter and silliness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And to be so very loved....the way daddy and I love each of you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And we do. OODLES.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5631605834455843268?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5631605834455843268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5631605834455843268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/concert.html' title='The concert'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4012/4277945568_88861c9680_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-1021540990723912554</id><published>2010-01-12T19:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T19:42:17.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hand in hand</title><content type='html'>Today I had to go to the grocery store with all of the kids. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As much as I love them, shopping with all of them is not something I really enjoy. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And so, I find great pleasure in the fact that our grocery store has a free child care for kids over 3. And it just so happens that two of these children fit that category.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jenna and Kaden were SO excited to go to the Eagle's nest. It was an occasion that called for BEST BEHAVIOR...and they showed it with zest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And my heart MELTED as I watched them walk int the store together, hand in hand, Jenna leading the way and watching out for her little brother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am so thrilled that I have a family...and my children have companions to play with and love...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That brings me SUCH joy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-1021540990723912554?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1021540990723912554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1021540990723912554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/hand-in-hand.html' title='Hand in hand'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7129497058925898800</id><published>2010-01-11T14:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T20:13:28.138-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting to know you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2710/4277944758_555453db00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 332px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2710/4277944758_555453db00.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I spent some time with the boys in the toy room playing and doing puzzles and talking about letters. And at one point it hit me--&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;THEY KNOW SO MUCH!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like, Kaden is a puzzle expert. And he knows more letters than I thought he did. And he loves learning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Spencer loves to follow along and be praised for putting his wood puzzle together...and for sliding letters in the pockets of our alphabet organizer...after I tell him where to. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I found joy in observing my two little misters...and getting to know them in a different way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7129497058925898800?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7129497058925898800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7129497058925898800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/getting-to-know-you.html' title='Getting to know you...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2710/4277944758_555453db00_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5643881777733668087</id><published>2010-01-10T20:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T20:25:57.675-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hide and seek....</title><content type='html'>Dear kids...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we played hide and seek. Daddy started it. I tried to jump in on the fun, and when it was my turn to hide I jumped in the bathtub and pulled the curtain closed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was SO proud of my hiding spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until I heard you guys finish counting and come after me. All of you were yelling, "Let's go INVESTIGATORS. Let's find mom!" And just hearing all your cute little voices so excited, with all your funny little comments, trying to find me made me LAUGH SO HARD. I tried to hold it in...I tried to muffle my giggles, I even held my nose so you wouldn't hear me breathe, but I couldn't stop it. I laughed and laughed and laughed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you guys pulled back the shower curtain, you laughed too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you all. I love your giggles. And I love playing hide and seek with you...even if I am a complete giveaway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5643881777733668087?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5643881777733668087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5643881777733668087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/hide-and-seek.html' title='Hide and seek....'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-4147088362387595390</id><published>2010-01-09T16:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T16:12:14.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The way to a boy's heart...</title><content type='html'>Dear Kaden,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, after returning from the grocery store, you anxiously awaited the completion of my bringing all my bags of goods in. As I unloaded each bag, you squealed with excitement at all the things I bought. "LOOK MOM, CHEESE!" you exclaimed, along with a number of other cheers for the food that would fill our fridge. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the thing that got me the most is when I pulled out your strawberry jam--the squirtable kind--because you are a PB &amp;amp; J kind of guy. Any kind of weather, no matter what other options I give you for lunch, you ALWAYS choose a good old fashioned peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And you ALWAYS insist on putting the jam on yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So when you saw a shiny new bottle of squeezable jam, you about jumped out of your seat and ran over to it, stroking the curves in the bottle, screaming "it's my new jam mom, my new strawberry jam!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am just so happy that these kinds of simple things bring you so much joy...because watching you react to them brings ME so much joy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you little guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-4147088362387595390?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4147088362387595390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/4147088362387595390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/way-to-boys-heart.html' title='The way to a boy&apos;s heart...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-1940828178317262649</id><published>2010-01-08T01:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T20:27:53.159-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Seeing the magic...</title><content type='html'>Today we went to Disney on Ice as a family. Perhaps I took the lazy road today with my challenge, because I KNEW I would feel so much joy as a mom watching the kids enjoy something so magical.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While all the kids loved it, my moment today is dedicated to sweet Spencer, who clapped and shouted, and yelled out (with the very best of his limited vocabulary) as the characters came out and skated around. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to say, I was jealous that Brandon got to hold him while I watched from a few seats down. His smile was so big...his energy so contagious...and I just wanted to snuggle that little guy right down in my arms and watch up close as the lights danced in his eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;SO much joy tonight...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-1940828178317262649?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1940828178317262649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/1940828178317262649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/seeing-magic.html' title='Seeing the magic...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-5430797556607971532</id><published>2010-01-07T20:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T15:49:20.374-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowy Days...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4041/4263798524_cf7d3afacd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 250px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4041/4263798524_cf7d3afacd.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today when we got home from picking up Jenna from school, the kids headed straight to the backyard for some snow day fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had wanted to just send them outside to play while I went in and made dinner...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my sweet Spencer grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the back yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt so much joy watching Jenna sled down the makeshift hill Brandon put together. And I just melted watching Kaden drop down on his back in 8 inches of snow and wildly wave his arms and legs while shouting, "it's a snow angel!"...and oh, how I smiled watching Spencer make "snowballs" and try to hit me with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am becoming more and more aware of how much a few minutes can mean...not only to me, but to my children. I am beginning to see how much joy can be found in those few moments...and I am grateful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-5430797556607971532?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5430797556607971532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/5430797556607971532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/snowy-days.html' title='Snowy Days...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4041/4263798524_cf7d3afacd_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-2435839277934874928</id><published>2010-01-06T19:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T20:06:47.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Making lemonaid from lemons...</title><content type='html'>Today was such a struggle. I was pretty sure that between all the contention with the kids and messes and very frustrating post-school anger issues with Jenna, I wouldn't have anything to write today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as I was tucking Jenna in tonight, she looked at me and talked about how she doesn't like feeling angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart broke...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in those few precious minutes of talking about feelings and what makes us angry and how we can handle things better, I knew what I would be writing here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so grateful that I had those few minutes with her to discuss things. We may not have resolved EVERYTHING and things may not be 100% now, but I felt such joy in talking through things with her...listening to her feelings...and helping her know how much I love her, no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew this change in my thought process and goal to find more joy wouldn't mean a flawless home life. I never intended this goal to change our circumstances. I just hoped this goal would help me feel more peace about being a mom, especially on really crappy days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today, I think that very purpose was accomplished.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-2435839277934874928?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2435839277934874928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2435839277934874928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/making-lemonaid-from-lemons.html' title='Making lemonaid from lemons...'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-7827843417123108531</id><published>2010-01-05T19:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T20:12:57.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4002/4277198779_5470582db7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 369px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4002/4277198779_5470582db7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I started my journey of finding more JOY in motherhood...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided that would take some time out of my day...out of the normal to-do's and read with the boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I don't take time to do this more often. It was 20 minutes of stories and giggles and snuggling with my two sweet little boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I loved every minute of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-7827843417123108531?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7827843417123108531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/7827843417123108531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/taking-time.html' title='Taking time'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4002/4277198779_5470582db7_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8427690726072892973.post-2739836153588709840</id><published>2010-01-04T16:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T16:14:46.737-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Joy Journal...in the beginning</title><content type='html'>I have thought a lot about resolutions and starting a new year off...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided that this year I don't want to write that long list of overzealous ambitions that will probably not ever be checked off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I just picked one thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JOY in the journey of motherhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It isn't that I feel like I am a terrible mother or am dissatisfied with my role. But let's face it...there are "days" (you are a mom like me if you know what THOSE kind of days are without explanation) that the one thing I look forward to is putting the kids in bed. :) I get frustrated and impatient...and I lack that joy I want to feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over Christmas break we watched the movie The Nativity story. There is a point in the movie where Mary and Joseph are talking about what it will be like when Christ is born...and if they will be able to teach Him anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked Brandon, "How would it feel to raise the Son of God?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately a thought came to my mind. I may not be raising THE son of God...but I am raising A son of God...2 of them...and a sweet daughter of God. And my calling to do that is a really special thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That thought has lead me to reading and prayer...to seeing where I need to change and what I need to do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have come to the conclusion that what we sing in church, what I tell my children, and what I want them to believe about them being a child of God is the very thing I tend to forget when life is hectic or they are misbehaving...and even on days when things are going okay...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is, I have 3 beautiful children entrusted to me from Heavenly Father. And I don't always feel like I have given them my best. I don't always feel like I have remembered what a special calling I have and why it is so sacred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I think about Brandon leaving in the next few months for externships, I have felt the anxiety of being a single parent and not having him to lean on for a break or backup. And it is during those times that I WANT to remember the very thought I had while watching Mary and Joseph discuss their grand role as the parents of Jesus Christ...That I have been entrusted with these special spirits, Children of God...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because knowing that, and REMEMBERING that makes me feel more joy...more fulfillment in cleaning up messes and wiping runny noses and repeating myself 20 times when they aren't listening to me. :) I want to see and speak to my children like they are a blessing, not a burden. But most of all, I want them to know me as a mother who loves them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so my resolution with this is to have a joy journal...that I plan on dedicating just for this purpose. The purpose of writing down at least ONE joy I found each day in being a mother...and documenting it with pictures or funny things the kids say, or simply writing why I love one of them...or all of them! :) I hope this will help me see more clearly, and more often, what an important challenge I have taken on....and how rewarding it can truly be...especially on the really hard days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, all this is not to say a mother does not need breaks...or time away...or lots of chocolate sometimes...because I most certainly do! And this is not to say I think things will be perfectly smooth now or that I will dedicate my every waking moment to them, because that is just impossible. But I know and feel that FOR MYSELF, I can give more...and do more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And these sweet kids, they deserve that. They deserve my time and love and attention. And I don't want to have another week or month or year that I look back and feel like I should have done things different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read this quote a few weeks ago and really loved the message:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As a new year begins and we try to benefit from a proper view of what has gone before, I plead with you not to dwell on days now gone nor to yearn vainly for yesterdays, however good those yesterdays may have been. The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead and remember that faith is always pointed toward the future. Faith always has to do with blessings and truths and events that will yet be efficacious in our lives."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Jeffrey R. Holland, “The Best Is Yet to Be,” Ensign, Jan 2010, 22–27&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I take on this challenge...this resolution...with hope and with faith that as I do, somehow the Lord will provide these glimpses I am searching for so that He can help mold me into the mother HE wants me to be for myself, as a partner to my husband, and for my children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8427690726072892973-2739836153588709840?l=joyjournal2010.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2739836153588709840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8427690726072892973/posts/default/2739836153588709840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joyjournal2010.blogspot.com/2010/01/joy-journalin-beginning.html' title='The Joy Journal...in the beginning'/><author><name>Rachel Holloway</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XEs7j-CJCuQ/TNrbW8CzhmI/AAAAAAAAMwI/TrttuqLjA-I/S220/carter%2B3%2Bmo%2B036-2.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
