tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193965697241453422024-03-13T06:13:42.662-07:00Bethany Lorene Blogbethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-65498860306399127722019-10-23T21:41:00.001-07:002019-10-25T07:24:48.380-07:00Pumpkin Patchin’ 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-sUkbS5sX7t6rNcsUSR76c3WuVOg177MZT9DCL02uak0wZzJnkNsFr2gYjs" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_24fc_3375_5f3_6bca" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-sUkbS5sX7t6rNcsUSR76c3WuVOg177MZT9DCL02uak0wZzJnkNsFr2gYjs" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A couple of weeks ago, while our friends Sarah, Mike & Hannah were visiting from Oregon, Darlene and I went to a local pumpkin patch and spent a couple hours wandering through the gorgeous sunflower maze and choosing a wagonload of pumpkins to bring home with us. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/SDxW9tiJ5DOePQs7UZPqMuJTyhex0ftpewTi75zOHMUZXUmPMCDXeFLsjos" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_3315_ed68_90cb_f80e" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/SDxW9tiJ5DOePQs7UZPqMuJTyhex0ftpewTi75zOHMUZXUmPMCDXeFLsjos" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/SDxW9tiJ5DOePQs7UZPqMuJTyhex0ftpewTi75zOHMUZXUmPMCDXeFLsjos" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Darlene just turned 2 1/2 and her little friend Hannah was about to turn 2 in a of couple days! The girls were thrilled to wander around the farm, ride in the wagons, pull the wagons, and fill the wagons with little pumpkins. And Hannah showed Darlene how much fun it was to throw some pumpkins out of the wagon, too. We went to the farm around midday (nap time), and considering that, both of the girls behaved wonderfully. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/hie36QieVLBTTnoz_xgUEszm8aOm7GvbH96rFQkCORM3Bb0cmfjaH_8k8Ys" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_a549_2cb3_704b_4790" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/hie36QieVLBTTnoz_xgUEszm8aOm7GvbH96rFQkCORM3Bb0cmfjaH_8k8Ys" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_d332_7650_3071_48bf" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rm2y-6W2DTFpRznZbb21_Ehe50wV2TLELUq0SXlOhWfqR0ny7Fa-eU1Doc8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
None of us had ever been to a giant sunflower field like this one, so that was definitely the highlight of the farm for us. The sunflowers were so tall and bright, and Sarah, Mike and I were fascinated by the complexity of their form. We excitedly pointed out different sunflowers that stood out to us, and we were happy to see honeybees on many of the flowers. Most of the sunflowers were perfectly fresh and all of the petals were fresh, and some of the flowers were older, and wilting. Those looked really pretty too in another way.<br />
<img alt="" id="id_b2e8_64f5_b45f_1f37" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/5ug1jPHl3_SRDOrZVQiVXkNRchOFMsHsEZX8oP-6LceRI_LidFXfNyaAemA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
The farm had some hay bales set up with pumpkins around them for photo ops, so we guided the girls over there and tried our best to get a photo of them both smiling. They sat there for quite some time and we took a million pictures like all parents do. The girls did so well for a couple of 2 year olds, and they tried to smile for some time before they got tired and wanted to keep walking.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/bQRs1IqWIRp1vPd5rkPsqhqrzHDzKRqilYjcw2itLQJxZU8R9u-NGcFVQuE" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_e4a8_6e90_7282_25ad" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/bQRs1IqWIRp1vPd5rkPsqhqrzHDzKRqilYjcw2itLQJxZU8R9u-NGcFVQuE" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><img alt="" id="id_fb0e_2141_69ab_d884" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/a_Iyq0h8sC1rj94qwPNTimHnKC9nzBkL665DJ-eklw5ZnT_w7aaICQAkeiI" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_839c_c38c_8061_f047" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/3i4NEnfcDv8LVt2m7FYc1XjzDKYz5eVX4imEmwJWwpFLSUPRMFozfdtIhzE" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/BzzArq4dTunjHYLWRI9THxSANyEVj9GTVHSQHaiD4Sk_qlg1zd67DxutM2w" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_af90_3b9e_1fa2_3008" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/BzzArq4dTunjHYLWRI9THxSANyEVj9GTVHSQHaiD4Sk_qlg1zd67DxutM2w" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></div>
<img alt="" id="id_f19d_74ed_cfdf_7e0d" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/nLIKrhWulpIhf1OBdY1P74yOJYgnnZbpCDQEsMWmqcPCM0ZXZK_pNppBCR0" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/yyoyvQ9N0bYRIgBrDFAYnQYCDIeEFTjkY9YLmasud16VQgqdHqU0nVi31pA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_a15_6b19_f25a_b601" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/yyoyvQ9N0bYRIgBrDFAYnQYCDIeEFTjkY9YLmasud16VQgqdHqU0nVi31pA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The farm also had one of those wooden photo prop boards with holes cut out for you to stick you head in, so of course we tried to get the girls to pose for photos with their faces in it. That went about as well as you would expect with a couple of toddlers! So cute!!!<br />
<img alt="" id="id_967b_f1b6_e799_27e" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/HV6uVjbxX2Wi6zvs9Zfv0Jj3-ZW2-9nHgajjSO2Po1b6wZoZavGazUPD8CI" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_857_9c01_631_a74a" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/bXVFCLpWKSVuM0zhhMtTkGlD5yW2Q7etVk0MdBBpWdGnbkYziHwoRxVBsuw" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_eab2_c336_d6de_af30" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/hVBp9Mo7gWqxfYROs1XTKtMikJKpkfOI85SFIU1gBJ6sZafABuZ9bMg2nxk" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_e7f_ce1f_8942_3709" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/zvFDue7cczoqcqtbr9pNmeAp7Q83o61sQ8itOXnP-KihGVABGtHUMPEr3kc" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<img alt="" id="id_9b02_52d8_ec67_d78f" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/kG5qT7mDIrLE37c8_asH1Vvt21OXM3JRdB1gsvPZhXARrFzE3xXAUVgewng" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
Then we ventured into the sunflower maze. It was SO PRETTY!! The sunflowers were so tall and thick that you could definitely get lost...especially if you're like Darlene and you run off the path and scurry between the flower stalks. Luckily she didn't get too far. And then Darlene straight up bolted away from us down the path of the maze, I chased her and yelled as loud as I could, "COME BACK!" But Darlene frankly, did not give a damn. I was panicking when Darlene disappeared around a corner of the maze and I lost sight of her briefly. Luckily, the maze led back to where Mike and Sarah and Hannah were waiting with the wagons, so Darlene's plans to get lost were thwarted. I was so relieved that I didn't lose my toddler in that sunflower maze! I was reminded of how much we need to work on our listening skills!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_47e2_5c3c_300c_4117" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/lmApJkZRyPHBkv8_tLZefOU6FMEDVwsRSQsyFRJByGbhj7Wz9luZNiwQKak" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_c5eb_ef2_59f6_d78b" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/_EoNF1VAwa3rqo-vaefHeSu8uxSnnJJtaE6UHoO8ZAx8SAJYX9On83SrXLk" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_7fd2_865d_3ce3_3f1b" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/kLgb-ma2usyIKGA33r-wNJwpRLVzAh24fQs2mN91Z05H4HVLBGaoDA5W7m4" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_9d1a_97de_eef6_6e08" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/eYpXEN0Vr93meWqoVdiMy-iY7ftnWQ3YKK5LKOP3M5djn7B1i0pXpAnMx_I" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_690f_8c8c_c30a_19ca" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/B5Pq7YXNett0KnxvcX-fSyuKgVl06oq88J6sDkt8B5YSfHmzIRkOoi9IADU" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_e2c7_f07a_a836_3e82" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/1VvuJN90NqpyHFhhUZxfSgX5g5vviEMBP6pYDFuA0PZRT2K523Qomui_gqc" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_aa65_a967_8c03_4738" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/GYwrUVZ7p1-fXovZHXaZ4NHE57cVfrrCd-8NIpsiDuM_Cap-_96fpXWk1-8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_bf50_3c68_49c7_1d69" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/tptJgi2RYah7vVZnU4SF0uQJQfrEXFoEu1GQExSkXESBdJk9UAhLSpi0zkw" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_adbe_9115_463a_dc1d" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/nAoNsOs1tFqcIbIHI1Ovv5MaY6P_hXHvmgV47H_xGxovJ41gdHgMKMYH86A" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
After the briefly stressful moment of almost losing Darlene, it was nice to just head to the pumpkin field and let the girls wander in the wide, open space where we could easily keep our eyes on them. The selection of pumpkins at the farm was so amazing! The variety of pumpkin sizes, colors, textures...they were all so pretty. We filled our wagons up and watched as the girls played in the dirt and threw pumpkins into and out of of the wagons. I found Darlene happily scooping dirt into a pile she was making on top of a pumpkin...so silly. Darlene's face, arms and hands became covered in dirt and she looked ridiculously perfect, a messy toddler having fun.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_8a47_8d34_c3d6_2192" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/l2BrDiLuKGhfX2RFshTT2s5feVnJN-n5FKZueFV9Wvy6VEQ2sXpLDa7m5XQ" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_c73e_f227_a040_3c40" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/5POr1UYJ6cuw357fUsduhN2XawTdtMWWJfzzRCLi1JZTqjESJyv_u_9Lgp4" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_3c18_1ba9_3cef_4889" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/sbQLl87PKIvThAsNotAfOuOlyACo4t04V1qaBSvroJu9AkHQBr2ZekC29jQ" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/GXJTkImN4ZDaH-bF3J_NW7zEVU68xiHTcJCNh9TamI7TpOgw7p-jI_zC5s0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_4894_89de_3111_df11" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/GXJTkImN4ZDaH-bF3J_NW7zEVU68xiHTcJCNh9TamI7TpOgw7p-jI_zC5s0" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></div>
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_8b73_26dd_dbca_92d4" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/9prEVTy2vve5gny6TjC9AvvsB6LEXqku-VD62818a0wUVhR6zyYqIMSp2uk" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
All in all, this trip to the pumpkin patch was so enjoyable. Spending time with good friends always leaves me feeling blessed and content. Seeing Darlene having fun with her friend was so adorable and we definitely made some sweet memories. And bonus, Darlene took an amazing nap after this excursion! Between last year's pumpkin-gathering trip, when Darlene was 18 months old, and this year's trip, when she is 2 & 1/2, so much has changed! This year it was so much harder to keep up with her! I can't wait to experience this all over again next fall!bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-86203083046007065792019-08-12T10:39:00.000-07:002019-08-12T10:39:22.787-07:00Thoughts on Balancing a Creative Lifestyle with Conscious PresenceAs I write this tonight, my husband and daughter are snuggled up in bed together without me. I could be snuggling too, but I am choosing to write about a subject that's been on my mind lately. Even writing about this subject is ironic, because in the act of writing, spending time away from my family, staring at a screen, I am embodying the conflict in question. How do we balance our relationships with technology and social media with what really matters most in this life- our relationships with our loved ones? And at what cost do we pursue an income, making a living to better our families, when the very process of creating that income is taking us away from our families? Can the two be intertwined? Where do we draw the boundaries?<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_9a3d_105e_40c2_da64" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/I8zSs2yW9w_d5bRfHYTVX5Ezygc_xeedXGF19327Sm92EBc_n53vwA3oTmc" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The other day I set out with my daughter, Darlene, on a walk to one of our favorite wildlife sanctuaries. I had the intention of doing two things: spending quality time with my daughter in nature, and capturing photos of us in some of our prettiest clothes and accessories from slow fashion brands and small shops. Darlene, being only 2 years old, had no idea about my photography goals, she only knew we were going on a walk with the stroller and her stuffed monkey. She rode in the stroller with Monkey and chattered happily as we made the short walk to the marsh.<br />
<br />
We walked a little ways until we found some pretty white flowers growing along the sides of the trail. The golden grass and tall Queen Anne's Lace lining the path were breathtaking to me, and a feeling of nostalgia swept over me as I remembered many other northern California Augusts from years past, admiring those soft white flowers during the golden hours of late summer. This scene was exactly where I wanted to take some photos of my daughter and I.<br />
<br />
While Darlene was busy running at full speed up and down the path, I got my tripod out from the stroller and set it up in a couple differed spots, tinkering with the adjustments on the tripod as well as my camera, until I found the perspective, aperture and shutter speed that was best. I set my camera to take ten photos in a row after a ten second timer, pressed the shutter button, and hurried into the frame to get ready for the photos.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<img alt="" id="id_5b43_87cd_558e_c260" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/zjqjLEJ626TMb27EnqcgQgCJMKLCKB9UIF0YSPasc7ryZl79_WcL_GcRQNg" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_6b7f_def7_5c66_8f8e" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/yuukqvtKg79vo3rFcZg4-KxtlzBoDeg3H7qtT95QuLgk0CYz02jPavKNges" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_9e9b_289_57d6_6600" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rw69G70tmvFCoKhayrwVUerfe4uX24xbCOwSpK4gQTLSlwv_r9Rkz_ZwZG8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I felt outrageously silly, being in a public setting (luckily no other walkers had passed by at that point), and I wasn't even a real "photographer," just a mom taking pictures of herself and her child. I mean, isn't that a bit narcissistic? But then again, what is it about having a professional photographer behind the camera that makes the situation any more normal? Around this time, an old man passed by and I moved my tripod to the side to allow him through. He asked me, "Getting any good pictures of birds?" I winced internally. "Yeah, maybe!" I said.</div>
<div>
<br />
For the next 20 minutes, I kept running back and forth on either side of the camera. Since I don't have a remote, I need to manually press the shutter button every time I want another round of ten photos. Meanwhile, Darlene was engrossed in smelling the flowers, running everywhere, and generally resisting every time I tried to pick her up for some posed "serene mother holding daughter" photos. So instead, I went with Darlene's lead, and knelt down next to her to smell some flowers, then some other flowers, then some other flowers. Darlene's sense of wonder and joy was contagious, and I enjoyed the time we spent marveling about the flowers and the birds flying overhead. But simultaneously, I was not fully physically or mentally present, as I was taking pictures, adjusting the camera and tripod, then running back into the frame, etc.<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_9e9b_702b_625_9797" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/qnBgGjjmdctB-5-mviZ4DZp2njtP1G7pa_ss8GUyG4X13ya-3w5s385jbe4" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_a77e_18e7_5ed6_fdef" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/GKD-sPsuyjcNx2elb-9bd6-o-jFbykbosOYVOY4iV-1A2JkNMDEbNFmEpBA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_f7e1_6b86_62f6_14d1" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/juWtVbAg2P3xRNjxr5dOECRvwgU1bG6ARU2Fe2oF2dDZA1_X1VJ3yKJ_dOA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_8896_9080_d4e3_529e" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/lqcFYaW3rA5cuKauBcKCzPFnOmlMd6NB47LBBMZR4EkcGnwivYqywsSVlfs" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_cb89_97c6_1956_dc52" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/OtzvLYsoeOloNyOU6wjTmrnDjo0ur15ZlovK8gb978d9_UhDhJYice7ofTY" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
At one point, Darlene wanted me to chase her like I always do, and I captured some cute photos of us in our element, even if just for a moment. Eventually we moved to another location close by, and I knew that the second location was going to make for even better pictures than the first! Darlene picked a couple flowers and offered one to me, asking me to smell it and snuggling up against my chest so sweetly. And there were some amazing pictures recording those moments between us. All this while though, little twinges of guilt were coursing through me, and I wondered, why am I doing this right now?</div>
<div>
<br />
Am I doing this to get beautiful photos with my daughter, to capture her at this age, on this day, a day that we'll never get back again?<br />
<br />
Am I doing this to post it to my Instagram and get likes and validation and to be seen by the brands we are wearing?<br />
<br />
Am I doing this to create content for my blog and "build my brand?"<br />
<br />
Am I doing this to have fun with my daughter?<br />
<br />
Is it a combination of all of the above?<br />
<br />
Are my motives wrong, cheap or in-genuine?<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_4748_1235_cc5d_6782" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/8mdmdl4Cf40YnVchX_bX7qNYKvIB5vlXs_yN0RN0OILAcznTK89f35-3HD0" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_1349_ce11_9784_deea" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/zikhIeNNV5GDdzOb5DBSeN1X8Pbg32rDlQh44urmcTnlVY5UTVVLaky9xDw" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_872e_3667_e74b_a733" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/BYGIKqcs4R19vQvWg6FLgSZ6hfV6vytOTLS0B31Al69by1FbKhqdPsAD8c4" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
After our photoshoot/walk, as we walked home, I felt grateful that we had gotten out of the house for a couple hours instead of sitting on the couch and watching TV. Soon after we got home, I popped my memory card into my computer to upload the photos, over 300 of them! Although I knew many of them were going to be deleted, I hoped that some gems were in there. The downloading took a long time on my slow laptop, and the time it took for google photos to pick up the images and let me access them from my phone took even longer. I decided to forget about editing any photos that night. I would work on them over the next few days. Jade got home from work around this time, and we ate dinner together with Darlene. Then we watched a show together and put Darlene to bed. Although I knew Darlene had had a great time with me that evening, I couldn't help wondering if the experience would have been more special without a camera.<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_5f9f_aeb4_37bc_4c91" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/4VEmmnC1YGu0GHVH-5TpwjvK5j6s_YIA6DVvK_FaxJTj-4E1OLcMAaWZssA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_b6d1_414_ca30_6bfe" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/QkpFAO6D53qfz8AnnjI4B_GRAi9DpPb1FHCsI_hI1yh_-djeCn4iOxbWIsA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_3c38_3947_4d9e_8812" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/12GmT8tdNH5QMH0qgyQv5MqdCfn2g6JKGKr--ri_MVnkvhQW_mpAuKPFCDY" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's something I've struggled with for quite a few years with photography: trying to capture amazing moments with a camera versus just BEING in the moment sans camera, and risking forgetting the moment later on. Since I have such a poor memory, photos from years past immerse me back into moments that would have long since faded away for me. And with the advent of smart phones and crystal clear iphonography, every day moments are easier than ever to bottle up. But is watching a moment through your phone screen while you're recording it, really the same? Is it ok to sacrifice just a *little bit* of presence for the sake of storing that moment to watch over and over again in the future?<br />
<br />
I know I'm rambling on way too much, so if you've made it this far, I appreciate you taking the time!<br />
<br />
Even more of a time-sucker and presence-thief than cameras and iphonography are just The Phones in general. I feel like if I'm not using it for social media, I'm either editing photos in Lightroom, texting family or friends, texting about work, checking my finances, checking my credit score, checking my email, checking the weather, checking my home security, scrolling back through my camera roll, listening to a podcast...The Phones are NON STOP. I say that as one of the guiltiest parties there are. No judgement here! It's become bad for me, and Jade has mentioned it more than a few times. Even Darlene (angelic, innocent Darlene) has told me, as she's trying to play with me: "mama, put your phone down!" Ouch.<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_5abd_82_cbca_dcfd" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/oPXwZBh4AEj2hcQ3b-36tnCq1B-ehq8pguQ_fLXwkp5HXWPgoqSIhL4c3hA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And so, I've come to the conclusion that I need to establish business hours with my phone, and probably just extend that to my laptop too! As long as I am using social media and blogging as business, I need to treat it as such and set up hours within which I will conduct that business. Seems simple, right? I should have done this So. Long. Ago.<br />
<br />
Even if I take care of the phone problem, there's still the issue of photos. And I haven't found a clear answer about that. I believe that we can live creative, beautiful, fulfilling lives and never once take photos or post on social media. I also believe that you can share about your life via social media and find deep, real connections with a few people, and even become amazing, supportive friends in real life! I've actually had that happen a couple of times when a few "insta friends" from other parts of the US moved to my hometown! On the flip side, I also know that theres tons of malicious people who use social media to spread hate, to bully and to do much, much worse.<br />
<br />
Since I do choose to use social media to share about the best parts (and some of the struggles) in my life, I know it's important to set boundaries. And it's tough to not see every pretty moment as a photo op. It's important for me to let some of those moments pass by, taking only a mental picture. And it's important for all of us to avoid comparisons between someone's instagram feed and our real lives. Nobody's house is spotless all the time. Everybody has lost their temper with their family. Everyone has bad days where they watch way too much tv and accomplish next to nothing.<br />
<br />
But it's in those everyday moments that you deem worthy of sharing--or maybe it's a orchestrated photo shoot, or that one corner of your house that is clean and so you share it because that makes you happy, or you hope that it might give someone inspiration or hope--tiny moments from the big picture, usually the nicest moments, moments you can string together and draw joy from, those are good moments to share with others. Or to keep to yourself. But just remembering them is good, I think.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<img alt="" id="id_d69d_611e_4715_841d" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/ozsHWG_FXeXBT3eyY2AJNWl8Pw1fIUJTekyvAL8-NWL5PAdcVifXWaddzAQ" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_db63_9205_6d4c_94e0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/0eFyTYN_yGtJNz8mn9hoQFokbstrTQVDBpO4uL7QqHUmvNrhsYYCNnxjME8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_9540_13a9_2085_1312" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/IRRyOZDRlB1HTnxSaL0UaXgPcP3eeXw163uqtXZtLuEy3PtFbj-d_tSSYX4" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I want to wrap this up by welcoming thoughts from anyone who has read this, who has some of the same worries, or has gone through this before! We're all on our own journeys and I'd love to hear your experiences with balancing social media and photo-taking and writing/blogging/journaling with real life and present moments.<br />
<br />
Thanks for taking the time to read, and much love,<br />
<br />
Bethany<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_96c1_b04b_eaa_a754" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/xe949_vliscUKD2Cbx34kpixvKAzLsaUywY8zDxWexZvnQFBknVkRxXXEIk" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-91236957645103171502019-06-14T11:25:00.002-07:002019-06-14T13:56:20.803-07:001000 Miles and 3 States in 4 Days<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/5-_yCpGYhker7Q3TV8EslUGkn2ZsQbecC7Rowjv3kA_x33XKutMPDtgqIKM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_3afd_fc91_7168_8409" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/5-_yCpGYhker7Q3TV8EslUGkn2ZsQbecC7Rowjv3kA_x33XKutMPDtgqIKM" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dogwoods were blooming all around our campsite in Southern Oregon!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/30A6kibVIRoB_KdfMViy58FhZqUCux6Y532l6Doqgy8ix-ob_CBsy-Gpn3Q" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_cd94_ac9e_cd36_20b8" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/30A6kibVIRoB_KdfMViy58FhZqUCux6Y532l6Doqgy8ix-ob_CBsy-Gpn3Q" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darlene loved watching this creek rushing by.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<img alt="" id="id_ff71_be8d_85e0_3c6f" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/C2HS1BWEZEhLqnu7fKuL4CC8iNBxn1kptIknLlxKMECYU91Iojica15EFuA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/z5JWiEeKfyLIFSMQx9oe6jT3A4jUmC6xbyn2Je8KQdCqYIMrx9tHFhfn_Ms" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_67d6_2478_80ea_d04f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/z5JWiEeKfyLIFSMQx9oe6jT3A4jUmC6xbyn2Je8KQdCqYIMrx9tHFhfn_Ms" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_21dc_4f60_9289_f091" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/xlXKR0Dj2MqWtNdJWIysd6eswCq4n_72MHnxO5xpohmOggKEqg6R9-EPCXA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_ca65_8f4b_ebcf_2617" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/bOCiEq2HuZ3AgauqUKWCGF3tOkxF6xx9JI9xcHIxEQ2icDGY8shDMfBzXHo" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jade's birthday was the first night of our camping trip!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_bd69_bbd_6c0b_9466" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/z3SgpuvkUiCSOx4wdUOrzfKAdV3eSlwwtccWusLl1uUSDzKYag9jNPnMGEo" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/ycVbQ2NKrHSSHiGyv-MABWBFfQ9dFFYl2Ddoikr1BQi2cdxMxgcp-cn0BzU" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_a583_a5ab_5f3e_1a4c" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/ycVbQ2NKrHSSHiGyv-MABWBFfQ9dFFYl2Ddoikr1BQi2cdxMxgcp-cn0BzU" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_316e_4ecf_7e34_3129" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Oz-N4Ng5sZ2TVRdTrGLssrdS_8dNdbcW6kCkv6F0NAO_zJSLvAjLE03RN1s" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming back from the creek to see what Dada was doing back in the campsite.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/LLFmGKOcttkyXk9MfOX3Pu0sJ1PxBA5chgta-CiZOweXW8kRTBpZlWo9QzY" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_a969_dfe1_b08d_2ba7" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/LLFmGKOcttkyXk9MfOX3Pu0sJ1PxBA5chgta-CiZOweXW8kRTBpZlWo9QzY" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then back to see the water!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_66bd_ba51_7fe8_129d" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/xI-0eL1ZhiPlON7jxZEefJIUejU0zxPflUH-ITvZqHelPictSm9UAxkphGg" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Throwing sticks into the creek, endless entertainment!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_cd7d_f8be_2589_49fc" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/FHf-LxzE-PQpTxfZpqRIqsoe1JmNj5-ZAJfCSkjes9C3XwhNmryf00VBMbY" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much green! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_1d9a_f7c2_e701_3f08" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/a2_0Spnfj6W0w6wMhIpRHj1gUnSexsORNQRKBBhsRvnArL8S_lYPnGd5bgw" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/UR5EpnUx76H-AAu9ITxmR1-EjLoQL0p3PyM1O9tTuFqMFwF_FuLp1_pyE88" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_6f77_cfa8_5663_d02d" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/UR5EpnUx76H-AAu9ITxmR1-EjLoQL0p3PyM1O9tTuFqMFwF_FuLp1_pyE88" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jade always makes us a nice warm fire, even in rainy Oregon.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/ImI6jKMBDmOO6eAFviK6kk17A6SF5ryamqGnts38ES6mLh-zyWWUjgxUmJg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_99e7_8659_f6fe_9926" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/ImI6jKMBDmOO6eAFviK6kk17A6SF5ryamqGnts38ES6mLh-zyWWUjgxUmJg" style="height: auto; text-align: start; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/15Wxf6q2P87hFwy185BKowDFMGO13qs6tYpSbUBcc6bWnoL036hqdIwUGCw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_adee_884c_307e_6219" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/15Wxf6q2P87hFwy185BKowDFMGO13qs6tYpSbUBcc6bWnoL036hqdIwUGCw" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/0Ffx95umGjsvt0pP12T9S_06LP1KN7MMnpyfv1F2pcLLB3JU2FfV-7VTREk" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_3522_e98c_8b6f_4bfb" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/0Ffx95umGjsvt0pP12T9S_06LP1KN7MMnpyfv1F2pcLLB3JU2FfV-7VTREk" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_7cf6_cbbf_f8d8_863a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/gHBNr_htgFg3x1PznIRQsn6f5CXuNw94geBm_iiEoPVrmFazjxAArX2t4bY" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We packed up camp and hit the road, stopping on the way at this river overlook.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_55_7462_d40c_7611" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/rWcuYi0qHYIFBg4EM6sNVXa8TkAgaYMxs5vx-C8y0t3pputjshdMl3bUK98" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/h1aFMjU3asFpmlX6O70RJ3DBVj1jJUXsT33M6Hb4dqZ6Kl7X8H2wH2v4Cnk" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_239_5af8_ab5e_28fe" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/h1aFMjU3asFpmlX6O70RJ3DBVj1jJUXsT33M6Hb4dqZ6Kl7X8H2wH2v4Cnk" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></div>
<a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/CYRBdi1J-syuWkMliDd2TC0GO2VSNsAPB3jvxU3qF09tRkI9KEhaBnjzja0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_1e6f_2619_8832_fcb" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/CYRBdi1J-syuWkMliDd2TC0GO2VSNsAPB3jvxU3qF09tRkI9KEhaBnjzja0" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><br />
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/z5JWiEeKfyLIFSMQx9oe6jT3A4jUmC6xbyn2Je8KQdCqYIMrx9tHFhfn_Ms" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/rj5xul5WKRiNPFPF1bSzIM6LkR6Kfref2-7ad-RxCBipL3Fu8DJyBdIvLD8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_3095_fd91_640d_6da7" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/rj5xul5WKRiNPFPF1bSzIM6LkR6Kfref2-7ad-RxCBipL3Fu8DJyBdIvLD8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_166_ce93_e861_7e2" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/hbI43mj8Udee3HkWqF_C16oN-TgBTPPc4zuRnXH6yz9sVNZB3O7b90Guims" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Campsite #2 was near Alturas, CA. It was very cold but there was this nice little lake at our campground. Also, the camping here was FREE!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/qV3FPYLa8VGLYp0qI-b327-I0ABOJhrv79UcUsr0dsH-R8nh1fwzJwCKhdw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/FbttiOEgT0r04ixGK-f607yxkF2Z-yH9D_WvpmtUDVSGYbt9KhFTWBA5yDg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_265d_b912_b7a0_abdb" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/FbttiOEgT0r04ixGK-f607yxkF2Z-yH9D_WvpmtUDVSGYbt9KhFTWBA5yDg" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We needed a nice warm fire because it was freezing cold!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<img alt="" id="id_3271_f735_7b1b_e808" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/7pySLHzdYgMh4XwkKJM22MaVasXtV6lQQ73Bs1GaxA0Gu8WwSoI8aRa6bz8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_7944_ab49_ac5b_e38f" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/xAaYLpWIXDXsyrOA5lETKrb4MSxguZzKzhWWeELbF_8V_Dy3TubXLKgXjZ8" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of bright lichen everywhere at this camp!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/gIxbIsZ46BsDvSWlNbWCw6dXnQg7O8rcj6nrh4RV0gsjlpg2u9Jz2tSUl6w" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_b243_7507_a2e5_ca84" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/gIxbIsZ46BsDvSWlNbWCw6dXnQg7O8rcj6nrh4RV0gsjlpg2u9Jz2tSUl6w" style="height: auto; text-align: start; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/nTC5lDBRHy52qttdoY96ikFVy_JR3reejJvIJSvc7ESLkh2yHPDCh6u-a5o" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_e4f7_a1d7_1a98_a02e" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/nTC5lDBRHy52qttdoY96ikFVy_JR3reejJvIJSvc7ESLkh2yHPDCh6u-a5o" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darlene all bundled up and watching cartoons.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_4fd_d5c2_16bb_b298" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/tYugQkX69N-oesdGlAMmSWHcVmc9PkQik9E2InmGMC1G16DJXDtOzPYgM2Q" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our campsite was at 6000 ft elevation, so it was snowing when we set up camp!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/5zC0GYezePJxnNsb9c7idbcCBGhYUhQnrKRNWnQ8D_ir5vymJk_BeFDjUJs" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_596e_c3c6_e222_a1ce" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/5zC0GYezePJxnNsb9c7idbcCBGhYUhQnrKRNWnQ8D_ir5vymJk_BeFDjUJs" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This old toy horse was outside a tiny grocery story in Cedarville, CA.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/obCP4fkXo-ju1YebVkUIrH2NZKZYowWHxNlzRcTI1Q17_Cz15e_BXWvGRMI" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_92ce_ebcb_bc6b_7e8b" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/obCP4fkXo-ju1YebVkUIrH2NZKZYowWHxNlzRcTI1Q17_Cz15e_BXWvGRMI" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Of course Darlene had to ride it! She was belting out the song from "Spirit" as she was on the horse.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_41a9_da6c_83b7_89d0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-B1-U8EEO1F-WJYNVO6CryPDLrLPRfTGLriBcUGBCCf4roTKzI1iNIXGhsY" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After we left our 2nd campsite, we set out in search of some heat. We drove just across the border to Nevada. The roads were long and straight. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_4031_a7dd_d367_344c" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/exVmPNShlIMSBOvhCQ3jvqdl-f1CVaIe4YGYYiN-lJ29YAMrziHQIJhkJF0" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some Nevada wildflowers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/DSVfX9eb_d2ohBy7hsNQnEfntpLND29ouKytxeg0mNw4lEa8-fymjJkKTGY" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_4f84_416e_314e_4820" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/DSVfX9eb_d2ohBy7hsNQnEfntpLND29ouKytxeg0mNw4lEa8-fymjJkKTGY" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These flowers were so pretty! Wish I knew what they were.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/l-e_A3R3fYxGmyEaPJgPS6pwKRkYj4fdy8O-pYhIoShwdydW1ww2iniGdhI" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_b7d0_c14_ad3d_7ba2" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/l-e_A3R3fYxGmyEaPJgPS6pwKRkYj4fdy8O-pYhIoShwdydW1ww2iniGdhI" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Antelope by the side of the highway.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/rvv8dCgEOGuf2YGFQFQaOyIU3hcUiRUHGWNTg9bc30n9riGmjvQ33czVO_Q" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_9e8e_711e_f80_7946" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/rvv8dCgEOGuf2YGFQFQaOyIU3hcUiRUHGWNTg9bc30n9riGmjvQ33czVO_Q" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jade had heard of some hot springs near us in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada. We drove down the long dirt road on BLM land with limited signs telling us where to go. The desert earth was very muddy due to recent rains, so we parked our Subaru and continued on foot the short distance to the hot springs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/N6J_3CXqcgdr4ZDU4KESnodisQUABtmQVqMDoQJpGV5k6ve4xmqQU9l96oM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_ddcb_29a_714b_a6ca" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/N6J_3CXqcgdr4ZDU4KESnodisQUABtmQVqMDoQJpGV5k6ve4xmqQU9l96oM" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darlene's feet were sinking into the mud and her shoes were getting overloaded with mud, so it was easier to just be barefoot!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/c6_vM694kzjSlFQnd9LCleDqaXlsDzpHXfn-X2frhmCB-2b3MKviSb_6CpM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_27d3_e429_685c_ce9a" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/c6_vM694kzjSlFQnd9LCleDqaXlsDzpHXfn-X2frhmCB-2b3MKviSb_6CpM" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made it to the hot springs! Super neat!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/FtnJBtGgdKPgUXJFikX9gyoSTO1RkzIIvCjb0PpyTB2GPvvOrn9QM74PbH8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_116c_af24_c81b_db04" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/FtnJBtGgdKPgUXJFikX9gyoSTO1RkzIIvCjb0PpyTB2GPvvOrn9QM74PbH8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We met another family there with young kids! The mom took our photo:)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/2KS_UeFD0D8i6wDgCAcLtg5GiSFlkwUl-ncHf5tITM_mDxRYvc6WQ2FAMaU" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_9f90_b7cc_12d1_69ac" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Pfi3Z9UAH6_Is43y28q3ELPlecsMKVV3K-slHKC2UD-R-HIJ4X9XiJ8UJ3o" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black Rock Desert</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Yu2677zJrK_kjcKE8cdfB6YME__-5uffpAGrn2ZlgeYxqZMpGUxvgN0toxc" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: start;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_b983_47ce_af8c_b4c9" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Yu2677zJrK_kjcKE8cdfB6YME__-5uffpAGrn2ZlgeYxqZMpGUxvgN0toxc" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After we left the hot spring we set up camp nearby in the desert on BLM land!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/UJjq8iQGWXXJ26DkQBVe0ZqIL0gUp-l2w4zeyFytEW5gM7pp-tTKX2vEVFY" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_7378_2796_8a38_21f7" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/UJjq8iQGWXXJ26DkQBVe0ZqIL0gUp-l2w4zeyFytEW5gM7pp-tTKX2vEVFY" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our tent!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/UJjq8iQGWXXJ26DkQBVe0ZqIL0gUp-l2w4zeyFytEW5gM7pp-tTKX2vEVFY" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/A4DrGalPqzzXOMip0fvVbr1loyY1QO8FxU7Nwv4rW0JtPqlMGre50mTyF8c" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_9b48_a51d_d9e4_4879" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/A4DrGalPqzzXOMip0fvVbr1loyY1QO8FxU7Nwv4rW0JtPqlMGre50mTyF8c" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hill next to our camp. Darlene playing in the dirt.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/A4DrGalPqzzXOMip0fvVbr1loyY1QO8FxU7Nwv4rW0JtPqlMGre50mTyF8c" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/UJjq8iQGWXXJ26DkQBVe0ZqIL0gUp-l2w4zeyFytEW5gM7pp-tTKX2vEVFY" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/fY1aBhkjS9ebozxLqfQZ0TZeMZAz1FZ2jSSVmJj6p3n7JbSUDtWrGMcsliM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_a27d_21fa_95cc_f476" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/fY1aBhkjS9ebozxLqfQZ0TZeMZAz1FZ2jSSVmJj6p3n7JbSUDtWrGMcsliM" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A delicate desert plant. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/UJjq8iQGWXXJ26DkQBVe0ZqIL0gUp-l2w4zeyFytEW5gM7pp-tTKX2vEVFY" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Yzr2f5vmGzm4bSfqSZ7FaCmzR3M0jriSTfhKvHvVD6N_0NjS50k8MKjonPQ" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_4f6b_be1_9bff_ea67" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Yzr2f5vmGzm4bSfqSZ7FaCmzR3M0jriSTfhKvHvVD6N_0NjS50k8MKjonPQ" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We hiked to the top of the hill next to our camp. We could see so far in every direction!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/V69oee9iz88Nk9Y9wxhk2bUpOD9EYKq3K9spuh6Sk_JWJdcwQdYV5kHfjjE" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_83c_95a7_b4a3_fb59" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/V69oee9iz88Nk9Y9wxhk2bUpOD9EYKq3K9spuh6Sk_JWJdcwQdYV5kHfjjE" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you can see the road heading back to the main interstate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/1C-PDGrONnF4ScVOg_55w_0pjH-jJmqbImktLR-e44oB0IDU-keip5jo3qM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_c234_115a_a6d6_5e61" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/1C-PDGrONnF4ScVOg_55w_0pjH-jJmqbImktLR-e44oB0IDU-keip5jo3qM" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mountains in the distance.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/vNQXx_n-va0JflFpr6kgmS__z_MYXq_3u7SQBLvgjXXSv2_A6hBxaaxhfO0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_9879_ebbf_8f02_5d5a" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/vNQXx_n-va0JflFpr6kgmS__z_MYXq_3u7SQBLvgjXXSv2_A6hBxaaxhfO0" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darlene wanted to try out the Vortex binoculars!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" id="id_89bc_3ba5_df03_235a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/YLNQfJTj_TiJQkMVPM8k7ecaytA-jta8pF9FagzuDiGjyvWm99Xiaqg9CsE" style="height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Forester is way down there, a tiny speck. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/2KS_UeFD0D8i6wDgCAcLtg5GiSFlkwUl-ncHf5tITM_mDxRYvc6WQ2FAMaU" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_f164_c80_bfa2_5b6" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/2KS_UeFD0D8i6wDgCAcLtg5GiSFlkwUl-ncHf5tITM_mDxRYvc6WQ2FAMaU" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_4ac6_4e95_328c_7404" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/pk9xW-IcyYPbjCYaAAqUQYCuM9u4Du-0IZMQmJspIe2nwb8HNd5K6vdHz2E" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_c2ea_df82_be11_ba3" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/cXIPfIYaTFzEFnoMVqWJWjOwSM7inV3lFc3x2DjwvsRF9agEmXXLfqPIuL8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/VcoEut8--QWKGag8i-Q6XQfnHPgzNiTDLaRCgR07bmAsRRoxrpeQREwm3xw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_744a_d586_45d5_22d1" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/VcoEut8--QWKGag8i-Q6XQfnHPgzNiTDLaRCgR07bmAsRRoxrpeQREwm3xw" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/iYm9XxN-kCFzunwchfqUsQkbEQKM4Nxz3lxzsbQFJxdMUaFOReQAlmXyjWU" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_bbd3_6b6c_730f_6adc" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/iYm9XxN-kCFzunwchfqUsQkbEQKM4Nxz3lxzsbQFJxdMUaFOReQAlmXyjWU" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking back down the steep hill. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/cXIPfIYaTFzEFnoMVqWJWjOwSM7inV3lFc3x2DjwvsRF9agEmXXLfqPIuL8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_c2ea_df82_be11_ba3" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/cXIPfIYaTFzEFnoMVqWJWjOwSM7inV3lFc3x2DjwvsRF9agEmXXLfqPIuL8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/81fmiFw2qUQigGHAIOCE_U_DMzNMqrQq0IlnDwqGx1CmpL0XisJpcWbpLv4" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_aedd_ec7a_1861_94ce" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/81fmiFw2qUQigGHAIOCE_U_DMzNMqrQq0IlnDwqGx1CmpL0XisJpcWbpLv4" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thunderstorms kept passing overhead, some were very intense and windy. The thunder rumbled powerfully right next to us all throughout the valley. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/qV3FPYLa8VGLYp0qI-b327-I0ABOJhrv79UcUsr0dsH-R8nh1fwzJwCKhdw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_ea87_4774_395b_fb01" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/qV3FPYLa8VGLYp0qI-b327-I0ABOJhrv79UcUsr0dsH-R8nh1fwzJwCKhdw" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After the thunderstorms, we witnessed the most spectacular rainbows!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/RVQ8KEp3XkFcNDhx18_mtx8bFIrhkxmVN9TvoVhbIGmxjSY95qJSY0-7CKw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="id_aaea_649a_8311_68e" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/RVQ8KEp3XkFcNDhx18_mtx8bFIrhkxmVN9TvoVhbIGmxjSY95qJSY0-7CKw" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GRATEFUL</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/81fmiFw2qUQigGHAIOCE_U_DMzNMqrQq0IlnDwqGx1CmpL0XisJpcWbpLv4" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-33740242307280408462019-05-20T06:55:00.001-07:002019-05-20T06:55:31.676-07:00Springtime Hooping in Warrior WithinThis year is my 9th year of hula hooping! So many surrounding factors in my life have changed since I made my first hula hoop in a Walmart parking lot nine years ago, but my passion for hoop dance has not.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the past nine years, I got my bachelors degree, graduated college, moved back to the west coast, lost loved ones, met my partner, got married, birthed a daughter, switched jobs a few times, moved houses (several times), and so much more. Change truly is the only constant. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Throughout all of this, I’ve always found access to my inner child, and my inner peace, through hula hooping and music. Dancing, in many different forms, brings me so much joy and allows me to release pent up energy. I highly recommend hoop dancing to anyone who is looking for a fun form of exercise as well as a way to express yourself and leave the world behind, if only for a moment. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yesterday was a gorgeous spring day here on the north coast and I set up my tripod, let Darlene run around in the backyard while I danced and captured some photos of my flow in these extra special handmade velvet flow pants from Warrior Within Designs. I’ve taken many videos of myself hooping over the years, but still photography captures dance in a different way and I am so happy with how these spontaneous photos turned out. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I could go on and on about how much I love hula hooping, but for now I’ll just leave these photos here and say thank you, hooping, for your therapeutic and medicinal qualities, and for always being a constant in my sea of change. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<img alt="" id="id_45b5_3222_93b7_99e7" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/RHMniKqRs0xCW_4Q2H5X6IaFcpw2pQw7I4iFWzSofRMv6UDessHzHVEgiIk" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<img alt="" id="id_c5e1_3acd_761a_9a86" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/fiyrq_4Oxd6aD6tQ2NmQmftSewpGBqMV4dxkMbimZMh3wjXcvZ4jMZ0Ub1o" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_877f_261_4b4_1aec" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/2Zb70wV80RGIY5u5uL1hs_w15euCzvYtVjXjbUBwZkyNIAe4dD1C8tUGefA" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<img alt="" id="id_8c_f4e1_2c7d_f710" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/0-10ZkRTVf_7W2ZI4HQKoZgxIaD_JtB9D-ijto8kAWwuBUZ8owEgGi_bvt4" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_4001_36d6_4427_c06" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/eI1SD5cLYtmGBEbYEMwm4PB7S_7M_Ss_Mx46VNGNYrapqp_bcRVh55kLN78" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<img alt="" id="id_edb6_dfc3_8235_4ce2" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/fIGYECt8lK_wBWEhRQ_oEt4NV03wvpn6PsdMBGLwhitWlDdK440vi95aks8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_ea91_9558_4e0f_a825" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/w4BaQ0_8wYfZ2RljfLlDJiCyn9o_oq7u7uxQtrPdCuCxGyxzUy-m00UHX5g" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_e7ab_42f5_aecf_abfc" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/BuIG3kMAi-Jzsi1uqdZ4qnH1y7_967TrNfXuQMsl60vuI_64dR_ElBtxLww" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_be4c_51e3_5bb2_b3a3" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/F5nJfsl_WQe1chHxKJiZHvgEsthXZ48Pwlwf-3YhJlH8PSWRoTJzsm9DM3o" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_44f0_dbf2_1e14_9409" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/QUcr77j26hbfzR7IBD8K6muFh6bQuDWw7kGaB6Cj8Pqj83SZPFwcValHpp8" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_9d77_7b8e_feb_ecfd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/BBSVQy_0QsfTXmC0C0hz0PObwovCsCvcdtPMI0dc3-AV529yncQUT88BoYE" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<img alt="" id="id_5e61_5ce5_1616_49fe" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/hL6WEthR31qBRMiDB5cjhg9DcOkYDu3NpNk0urR-EsCiKeEkXfZ6m4O1qIM" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<img alt="" id="id_cb33_4154_19e2_f7ae" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/afhuUeD81Y_51lAdJIyWxot7jps5e39ihbculGDEIBBpO2cbBRQm7ASRRCs" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-42115932237802497172019-03-12T22:31:00.000-07:002019-03-12T22:49:23.730-07:00Flint Ridge CampingThis past weekend we went on a quick overnight camping trip to test out our new rooftop tent. We drove a little over an hour away to Klamath, Ca, where the Klamath River pours out into the Pacific Ocean. There has been so much rain and snow lately that the river was full and gorgeous. A quick drive along the south side of the Klamath takes you to the Flint Ridge section of the Coastal Trail. There are a couple of hike-in campsites and a parking lot, and the trail itself which is incredibly scenic, wandering along the cliff high above the ocean, and then dipping inland to old-growth Redwood groves, then out again along the cliff, providing stunning ocean views as well as sheltered, shaded Redwood groves.<div><br></div><div><img id="id_412_ff51_e864_d7b0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eajokRxVH-I/XIiYqFBKaDI/AAAAAAACGPk/YSDpRiqYqcY9WPYpiI-df0n1n2e9TzFoACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><div><br></div><div><br>
<br>
Our campsite was actually in the parking lot beneath the hike-in spots, because we were camping on top of our car and we couldn't drive into those campsites. But honestly, the parking lot was amazing since it was right on the cliffside and we got an amazing front-row seat to the sunset.<br>
<br>
After parking and eating a snack, we began our walk down the trail. Darlene insisted on walking instead of being carried in the Deuter backpack. But of course, eventually she wanted me or Jade to hold her. Jade actually was super sweet and held Darlene a lot of the way. They made a game out of "looking for mountain lions and bears" because Darlene is super into those animals. <div><img id="id_69eb_ef49_207_ca9c" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tu-sa8Oenqg/XIiYUd1dC_I/AAAAAAACGO0/Opd_YJdyUiUoz0j7QpiOxqrPshPXBF_OACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_4ad6_3ec9_9084_968" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Al0mzpDqKy0/XIiYUvA1xVI/AAAAAAACGO4/6r0H0ON0ZhAiMquXaXqqtkO5t-ioBIXkwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div>I carried Darlene a little ways in the backpack, and then she figured out how to stand straight up in the pack and make me think she was going to tumble out. Jade got a super sweet picture of us at the spot where we turned around to walk back to camp. These photos are some of my favorites of Darlene and I, because she is standing straight up and reeeeaaallly smiling hard. She's a great hiking buddy, even if she complains a lot and wants to be carried everywhere.<div><br></div><div><img id="id_1336_78a5_999c_9c69" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--HfvPJymU3k/XIiYVVGRkNI/AAAAAAACGO8/DOEUJgFa69oaaKXzLvQoZmsjJEmxiegxwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_b32f_b0bb_fc9c_4c9" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KEwpH-Y-F8Q/XIiYVzxvWvI/AAAAAAACGPA/X_bT746UWbo17QHfGx0P3l62V6N9tuMlwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_e41c_bd20_d90c_f6e0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9ZNCsQYiCKM/XIiYWbdpTnI/AAAAAAACGPE/5UINiLVWIY8Aq1UtLaPUyU8KlqV3hTlfACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br>
<br>
We didn't walk very far down the trail, so our entire hike lasted only a little over an hour. We got back to camp around 5 pm. I busied myself making us turkey sandwiches while Jade took the cover off of our rooftop tent. By the time I had the sandwiches done, Jade had already flipped open the tent and had the ladder down, so the tent set up was extremely quick and easy. That is one of the main appeals of these tents. Also, since they sit on top of your vehicle, being elevated off the ground gave me a sense of added security. Plus, the tent comes with a thick pad that is the perfect size of the entire tent, so like a built in air mattress that never loses air. All of our bedding was already inside the tent, even when it was folded up on top of the car, so as soon as Jade popped it open, it was ready to sleep in. Super easy!<br>
<img id="id_5ffe_6136_6427_2370" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E8ry2L2-8kY/XIiYW7YqM_I/AAAAAAACGPI/UR6ZPBxof-ESf7AucF5xYXM19C2nEoFugCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_f17d_52dd_40d0_86ad" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gtbLKkC9DPg/XIiYXEhs4jI/AAAAAAACGPM/JaR86ZjkWRQrVfkuEItIsdXVOkG_N96vACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_d7b1_3419_ab70_28e" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-78gUfSiVqH8/XIiYXrU8CMI/AAAAAAACGPQ/7zcymow5VdQ37k_4DFxYw4dxoZ3DtHkawCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_3733_a88_393d_bcff" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Q5sZJkhhyks/XIiYYNFHxSI/AAAAAAACGPU/R9HDvgPgFHU7yH8Zm7YgAQIYtcZiqP0JwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_1989_81a2_43ea_f1d9" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XX8_wH2bIIg/XIiYYiGV1jI/AAAAAAACGPY/0XkRlztyaiIc3_teThYgjHkdkyy6iqhcACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_79f3_8cf5_7d8_bb06" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2uSQspffigI/XIiYZNKUp5I/AAAAAAACGPc/t5v0RKhH0bcNZrhFC5eGnXe9yhAWN9ILgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br>
We cracked a couple beers and ate our sandwiches and settled in our chairs to watch the sunset. Darlene was being pretty wild so I decided to set up her cartoons on the tablet and we put her up into the tent, zipped her in, and she was comfortably and safely situated up in the tent for half an hour or more while we relaxed down in our chairs! Several other vehicles pulled into the parking lot around this time to watch the sunset. Some were Canadian tourists who were camping nearby, and some locals. Everyone was super friendly and the mood was pleasant, I think everyone was happy to be experiencing the beautiful cliffside sunset, and an hour later being that it was the first sunset of Daylight Savings time.<div><img id="id_940_1c9e_d61b_4e34" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sf_rVtwJPE4/XIiXckaA5hI/AAAAAAACGOk/Kgd9XImgALcbG-NVzylCm-e970Tf7eVGQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_2dc2_9abe_3ab2_42b1" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ea4Iq5XaMo8/XIiXdIYt8PI/AAAAAAACGOo/46n7RSyw1cAiQi7D1_wZgIhTkBubRb28wCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_cc50_1436_345c_652" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t8J25TU4L2c/XIiXdquQjcI/AAAAAAACGOs/Lmxvg8F0C589AVydznHtoFau6keU0ukNgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_426d_355_8bff_bb43" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s-3cN7jL61E/XIiXeLDiz5I/AAAAAAACGOw/Zz1p60nYqxsilayS7XkeEFbA104tr9ZfACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br>
<br>
As soon as we watched the last little blip of the sun sink below the horizon, Jade and I packed our chairs and everything back into our car, then climbed up the ladder to go to bed in our comfy, cozy new tent. Through the open tent windows, we watched the twilight colors dance on top of the sea. Darlene was snuggled up between us and Jade and I smiled at each other and expressed how grateful we were to be camping at such a beautiful place with our daughter, and that we looked forward to many more camping trips in the upcoming summer. </div></div></div></div></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_1e65_2423_d0af_e1b6" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--b_193v_W8w/XIiZ4jqsBsI/AAAAAAACGPw/e3bNFUs9a14j_25ckLLVWNC-Nj1AlpIagCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div>bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-72363390769518701932019-03-03T21:45:00.001-08:002019-03-03T21:56:56.443-08:00Lost Man's Creek Trail<div><img id="id_7317_488f_b3b5_546d" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uZB37suxMgo/XHy9dyvqKPI/AAAAAAACEnc/gbiF_InilqsBH4CF1kOJsArpdYchkrHvQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_5a65_4adb_914a_abc5" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ew6O1lem6HE/XHy9eVLSfMI/AAAAAAACEng/pts7YZvlv8k3FDXmdsVZPA_LFK593TzUwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>This past Sunday our family took a drive up North to Lost Man's Creek Trail. The turnoff is just a few miles north of Orick, Ca. We had attempted to walk this trail a couple weeks ago, but Darlene was so tired, cranky & inconsolable that we turned back pretty early along the trail. We were hoping to have better luck this weekend. Unfortunately, Darlene still wasn't in the best hiking mood this weekend, but she toughed it out and we had a good family walk overall.<div><br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_aa13_5b83_97b2_7fdd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zLRGJwTkJVk/XHy-DtPq4XI/AAAAAAACEn8/yXMWFnDPgx8ymORVpWxVDqKfERAt_bxJgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_45ac_f149_89cc_85c1" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7leaZKHENBg/XHy-EAaRsUI/AAAAAAACEoA/8kI8HMZhiLcEYp9WJbzIRpA_9OPRXMMXQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_a70f_3866_cc8f_1625" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a5M0n4BAXFM/XHy-EUJCG9I/AAAAAAACEoE/k4n8u2J_eBgWCP5ObILmeV_FbJvKg-9IwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br>
<br>
The trail is so gorgeous and easy to walk along as it is fairly flat, at least in the beginning. Giant ancient Redwood trees line the sides of the trail, and Lost Man's Creek flows alongside. The creek was so full from all of the recent rain and snow here, and the loud rushing of the water was so pretty to listen to and watch. The trail crosses several bridges, and on each bridge we stopped and admired the creek below. Underneath the first bridge, Jade and Darlene spotted an otter! I was too far away, so by the time I ran over the little cutie had disappeared.<br>
<br><img id="id_56cf_54f0_e490_65f5" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OT7-Xgr7lJg/XHy-FDZNfOI/AAAAAAACEoI/68E2L5OMPEQlUFW4HjgcQtBoU8zPFmKnACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_6087_9094_50e2_5061" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QKVD-gIHlLA/XHy-FRCqepI/AAAAAAACEoM/Wm_uOTvTHIo0DI4avHciqaGXmhSSBko7gCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_eec5_34f9_2c02_7d29" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gbxJqHv1n6o/XHy-F1QcSSI/AAAAAAACEoQ/JRkcR4DLtwsWTOuUHZGzFE5amrPEmR0FACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><br>
Darlene did a great job walking with us, but she really wanted me to carry her. I did for a little while, then we encouraged her to walk with us. We brought along our Deuter backpack which is basically the cadillac of baby carrier hiking packs, so Darlene really should appreciate it, but she doesn't always! Regardless, she ended up riding in the backpack for a ways, which is so much easier than carrying her in our arms!</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_f0b9_7aea_114b_2b26" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UKNV5tRJu7w/XHy-GWs7z_I/AAAAAAACEoU/m3rr9cqL6fY6U9A22y0-liIXCRqpCy-tgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_5d95_3f7d_e145_f382" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-r9QWQzoTayo/XHy-Gyk_SLI/AAAAAAACEoY/4q8M0qDf098qlYdJJTbBlL8rqFDwo30KgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_c7ce_3b85_7d75_74a9" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IQcLJqDaKrM/XHy-HbChy2I/AAAAAAACEoc/RI0Wh9Jihzs8TqYrL4LHEYqN6Wr5ACIrACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br>
<br>
She had a few meltdowns along the trail for various insignificant reasons, which to her were probably huge reasons, but then again, she is a toddler. Jade and I have been trying to figure out the best way to parent her in a manner that is gentle yet firm, because she has such a strong personality and will pretty much run the entire show and boss everyone around if we let her. Being first-time parents to such a headstrong little lady is such a challenge, and such a precious gift!</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_b2da_7462_5028_b9da" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N0IdTH4lT-s/XHy-H4E_SpI/AAAAAAACEog/DHPSSZ-ry14cOoa0i8ZYYVyA-K3WsET_ACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_724d_bde0_a50b_8208" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cSNs0Tol3mk/XHy-IdixinI/AAAAAAACEok/E7p5jTTBbzoCBQ-PEoMFaErOyleijOFUACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_dfea_a1af_bf7d_e6b3" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_GStjAwBHeo/XHy-IrVtGJI/AAAAAAACEoo/cCYzExY8GxYZFrCzniQSgBW3DOFIfkeVQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br>
<br>
Towards the end of the trail she found a big stick which we ended up letting her walk with, and funny enough, that kept her content longer than anything else on the walk did. And as soon as we got back to the car and driving down the road, she was asleep!</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_803f_4e8c_8608_d037" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XTTE59-bOGk/XHy-I2i0haI/AAAAAAACEos/NvIuWaffuakDlj6WAqA0N497ohGFDJnogCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_c4fd_1403_12a5_639c" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Fu-gsrvt0P8/XHy-Joou9NI/AAAAAAACEow/9rQl6ufljjU7W9DzBy_BE25St-pqMFQ3wCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div>bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-61667486885669964202018-11-07T21:57:00.001-08:002018-11-07T21:57:04.915-08:00Health Goals for 27 <p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent: 36pt;" id="docs-internal-guid-cfff1ffc-7fff-2d22-e574-12e3293bcd17"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today I am 27 years old, and today is a New Moon. What better time than now to set some intentions for what I want my life to look like this coming year? I have many goals that seem at once very far-fetched and yet very ordinary. Today I envisioned my life a year from now, and two years from now. I haven’t got to envisioning much farther than that. </span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One year from now, I want to be healthier, stronger, and have more natural energy without caffeine. I want to spend less time staring at my phone, especially around my family. I want to have a stronger relationship with my husband, where we communicate more and understand each other better. I want to have a knitting business that I can keep up with, one that provides a good source of supplemental income for my family. I want to plan ahead better so that I can arrive on time to every appointment, big or small. I want to be free of “bad debt” and have a savings account that is growing every month. Encompassing all of these goals is my goal of publishing frequent blog posts about anything and everything, including my journey of working towards said goals. </span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One year from now I want to be a better version of myself. Two years from now I want myself, Jade and Darlene to be welcoming another baby into our family. I haven’t confirmed that exact timing with Jade yet, but I believe that he will more or less be on board! Haha. While I would love to be having another baby sooner, I feel that it’s very important for me to be on the path to achieving many of my personal goals before taking on the added responsibility of another child. So, this next year will be in preparation for becoming the woman I will need to be as a mother of two. That isn’t my only motivation for these goals, or even my biggest motivation, but let’s just say that having a second child is one of my longer-term short-term goals!</span></p><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Since one of my main goals is to write more and put my B.A. in Writing to good use, why not write a Blog?! Even if no one reads my Blog (but I hope they do), it will make me so happy to be writing again. So here is a Blog post getting into the details of some of my health goals for the year I am 27! I should also mention that one of my most-broad goals is to develop some sort of practical schedule, or rhythm of my days, one where there is a time alloted for each of my priorities and responsibilities. I know from my past experience that I personally thrive and am very productive when I give myself a realistic, firm yet flexible structure. Maybe there will be separate blog post for when I figure out my schedule. </span></p><br><br><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fitness Goals:</span></p><ul style="margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yoga & Stretching: Daily stretching is both meditative and invigorating. Ideally I will do at least 15 minutes of stretching first thing in the morning, before Darlene wakes up. We’re talking around 4:30 AM. This sets the tone for my whole day. A few of my long-term stretching goals are to find my splits and increase my back flexibility. I want to be strong and flexible so I can get better at aerial hoop and circus type things! I want to be able to hula hoop with my foot in the air while holding wheel pose! I also want to be able to hoop on my foot while holding handstand! That’s a goal I’ve had for YEARS but haven’t gotten much closer to reaching because I haven’t set my clear intention. Well, I’m setting it now! Hand stand hula hooping I’m coming for you! I gotta be strong for that. Which leads me to my next point...</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img id="id_9b38_607_4c56_670f" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vkITu7p7Yss/W-PQLfjy3uI/AAAAAAABqzs/H4H7u73HlSMfnmDxuR4vnH69U0XrabZfACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br></span><br></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Strength Training: I’m just gonna say it, I want a nicer booty. I mean don’t we all? And I want my core to be so strong and stable so that my back pain disappears! After pregnancy especially, my core is basically non-existent, which leads to a whole slew of life-long problems if not addressed. SO, after my morning stretches I would like to do some sort of exercises using small weights or even just my own body weight. No-equipment exercises are my favorite! No excuses available! </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img id="id_c015_4a69_3acf_5439" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Vt-lAnyuQPA/W-PQLb27E8I/AAAAAAABqzw/slSxThmneRAdqfQNwSalRAmcLKHTcc7FQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br></span><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Running: I used to HATE running. Like, I would feel like I was dying when I was running. And now I love running so much that I want to run my 4th half-marathon sometime in this next year! My favorite race, the Avenue of the Giants, is every May & October. Maybe I will do both dates this year! Since I’ve done this race 3 times before, this goal seems the most attainable to me. BUT how cool would it be if I ran my first FULL marathon this year? I know I could do it. And if I could do it, so could you! All it takes is starting where you’re at, even if that’s jogging half a mile. I think I’ll start with three 3-mile runs per week. That’s how I started to train for my last half. And combined with stretching & cross-training, I will be more likely to avoid injuries!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img id="id_2c58_a097_f850_5c25" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-eHQlrXuruCo/W-PQL1XW9oI/AAAAAAABqz0/mbS2otvKd4Ur-Ms5gJwfff2AO5A-ltlrQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 341px; height: auto;"><br><br></span><br></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hooping: Hula hooping has been a passion of mine for 8 years! Sadly, I don’t make time for it too much these days. But what I’ve learned recently is that even though I can’t have two-hour-long hoop sessions anymore, I can still squeeze 10-15 minutes in quite often! And I can still have a lot of fun in that short amount of time! If you haven’t hooped before, I highly encourage it! Just put your favorite music on LOUD, get a big ol’ hoop around your hips, and move! The amount of endorphins released is incredible! I equate a hoop sesh to a great yoga class or a long run, or even meditation! Just let loose and see how much better your day can get with some hooping thrown in there. As for hooping goals- see the section above about stretching. </span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: disc; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">DIET: So I have a LOT I want to write about this, and this is one of my biggest weaknesses... Sugar. If I’m being completely honest, I’m a full-blown sugar addict. So I would like to wean myself off of it, and reserve things like cake and ice-cream for special occasions, instead of every day. You think I’m exaggerating, but I’m actually not. I eat sweets in some form or the other Every. Single. Day. I’m also ALL about those smoothies though! And I love throwing things like spinach and avocado into smoothies. I have some bomb smoothies that I make regularly, and they’re basically just as good as any milkshake. I’d love to share some of my smoothie recipes on my blog too!</span></p></li><ul style="margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: circle; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Besides limiting artificial sugars, I want to limit my meat & dairy consumption. I was a vegetarian for almost 6 years, and I started eating meat again when I was pregnant, on the advice of my midwives. Besides wanting to limit meat for ethical reasons, I know that there are other healthy protein sources besides meat, but meat has just become the “easy” way to feel like I’m getting nutrition. So I’d like to explore more of a plant-based diet, but one that is also high in iron and protein. Because nobody likes being anemic.</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: circle; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’d also like to become a more well-versed cook in general. For the benefit of my family, I want to venture away from grilled-cheese and pasta, and move towards other delicious (but still easy and fast) dinners. Ain’t nobody got time for being stuck in the kitchen!</span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: circle; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Caffeine: I basically feel zero effect from a quad-shot latte, which just isn’t right, ya know? Caffeine is a drug that I have built such a high tolerance to that I still manage to feel burnt-out even when I’m downing lots of coffee. A brief hiatus from coffee would do me well I believe. And I just want to feel energized without it. </span></p></li><li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: circle; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Water: Drink more of it. Drink a big glass when I wake up, and before every meal. This will help with energy levels too.</span></p></li></ul></ul><br><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, I wanted to write one blog post about ALL of my goals, but I feel like this particular post has gotten quite lengthy with just some of my health goals for this year! So I’m going to make a separate post about my other goals regarding relationships, screen time, decluttering, financial goals, and more! If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading! I hope this post was enlightening and encouraging, and I’d love any and all feedback! What are some of your current health and fitness goals?</span></p><br><br><br><br> bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-72341531293003912702018-04-06T13:04:00.002-07:002021-02-16T23:48:13.443-08:00Darlene’s Birth Story I never thought I’d be the kind of woman to get impatient after her due date, but sure enough, on the day after, and the day after that I started to feel like I was ready to have the baby already. I felt the pressure from well meaning family and friends in their text messages “Today could be the day!,” not to mention my mom’s daily phone calls of “how are you feeling? Anything happening?” There were 6 days that passed, which I know isn’t very long to some people, but the anticipation of meeting this tiny person (we didn’t know the gender) made it feel like long enough. I went on long walks, ate spicy foods, did a few squats, nothing happened.<br />
There was one day that I felt the baby’s movements considerably lessened, and I remembered reading somewhere that I shouldn’t hesitate to call my midwives if “your intuition tells you something’s wrong.” I wasn’t sure about my intuition but the next day I woke up after not feeling the baby move all night and I wanted to make sure he or she was ok. It was Wednesday, April 5th. I called my midwives office and Laura told me it was normal for babies to not move as much during the last weeks of pregnancy, which I knew, but she also told me I could come into the office so I could listen with the doppler. Jade drove me to the office and Laura was able to find the baby’s strong heartbeat, which was very reassuring. I was also worried that my water had broken and was slowly trickling out, leaving the baby in grave danger, which I probably only thought because of this horror homebirth story that I had found online when I was doing research in the beginning of my pregnancy. Anyways, Laura did a swab and nothing had leaked out. She even gave me my own swab to take home if I was worried about it again. Most importantly, she checked my cervix and gave it a “good massage” (good as in painful, but helpful). We went home and I spent the rest of the day doing some work, running around grocery shopping, and making delicious crock-pot Mac n’ Cheese. I wanted to go on a walk with my friend that afternoon, but by that time my back pain and cramping was tiring me out and I just wanted to stay home. I bought birthday cake delicious light ice cream and ate the whole pint, thinking it might be my baby’s birthday, my birth night.<br />
Around 8 or 9 pm my contractions were noticeable enough that I could call them contractions, and they were not painful. We had just eaten dinner and were sitting around watching TV and I was thinking to myself, this could be the night! As we went to bed I opened my babybump app and the contraction timer that I was so excited to use. I remember my midwives telling me “the most important thing we will ever tell you is that if your labor begins at night, try to sleep through it because it might be the last bit of sleep you will get for awhile.”<br />
I did sleep between and through my contractions for the most part all night. I timed them while I was awake until about midnight, then I called Laura and probably woke her up just to tell her my contractions were 7 to 8 minutes apart for 3 hours at least. She told me it was just early labor and to try to go back to sleep, and call her back if things got more intense or close together. I woke Jade up when I was on the phone with Laura, he came out of the room with his hair all disheveled and saying “what’s going on?” and I felt bad like I had hurt his feelings by calling the midwives first and not waking him up.<br />
I had hoped to have the baby that night so that Laura would be the attending midwife at my birth, but when I woke up in the morning and my contractions were still 7-9 minutes apart, I knew nothing would be happening anytime soon. I got up around 7 and made some oatmeal and bounced on my birth ball while watching my favorite show at the moment, Grand Designs. It was a british HGTV type show. Nothing was that special about it, but one of the episodes featured a familywith a little pudgy red-haired baby named George, and he ended up being one of my labor coping techniques later on.<br />
We had a check up that morning, my 41 week appointment. On the drive there I felt like maybe we should have stayed at home, but I was also happy to be getting out of the house after dealing with contractions in bed all night. Calista and Brandi were the midwives who met with us that morning. During the appointment I kept getting contractions that seemed much closer than the ones at home, but I wasn’t keeping time. They all said they were surprised that I came to my appointment. Before we went home they checked my cervix and said I was at 2 centimeters or so, which was discouraging for me, since I was at 1 centimeter the day before and I had been in what I thought was “labor” all night. They sent Jade and I home, advising me to try to eat a good meal, take a nap, and if I couldn’t sleep, a walk would be a good idea.<br />
On the 30 minute drive home, I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. My contractions seemed to come really close together and being in the car in stop and go traffic intensified them. I remember being stuck behind this truck with a very excited German Shepherd in the back of the pickup and he was running back & forth, side to side very intensely. I felt his energy and started to feel a little trapped. There was no turning back now.<br />
It was probably around 12:30 pm. Jade suggested we pick up brunch from a cafe near our house. I waited in the car while he went inside to order. My labor was definitely picking up, so much that I didn’t want to sit in the car. I stood outside the car and leaned on it for support during contractions. I must have looked distressed, since an older woman walking into the restaurant asked me if I needed some help. I told her I was just in early labor, no big deal. We stopped at the hardware store after that, and again I waited outside by the car. The parking lot was busy that day and there were 2 cute little mennonite kids walking by with their mom. I thought how soon I would have a child of my own.<br />
We finally got home and sat down to eat our brunch. I got eggs benedict, my usual. It was very hard to eat during contractions, but I got about half of my meal down. Around this time I was getting very uncomfortable. We were watching the Grand Designs show, the episode with the pregnant couple building a house, and at the end of the episode baby George had arrived and was making me and Jade laugh with his decidedly British fat face. We kept rewinding the show to see his funny expressions. I remember reading about how laughing can make contractions easier. It was definitely true for me. After Grand Designs was over Jade put on Youtube videos of babies doing funny stuff. It really helped me to laugh and realize that what I was going through would bring us a cute little baby like the ones on TV.<div><img alt="" id="id_84b8_a8f8_9ee0_359a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bb2dbJEUhDw/WsfZWLDwX4I/AAAAAAAApbU/RhgR2jYugJYPDKLKKdmeUmw1Ax0wwzC0QCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /><br />
All morning I had been texting my mom that things were starting, and I think by this time it was around 1:30 in the afternoon. Jade was timing my contractions at 2-3 minutes apart. I was on my hands and knees on the ottoman in our living room, that position seemed to help. I thought that since my contractions were so close together that must mean I was progressing really quickly to 10 cm. I thought maybe I would be one of those lucky first time moms who had 6 hour labors! Even though we had just been at the midwives office, I felt like a lot had happened in the short time since we left. I asked Jade to call Calista to let her know how close together my contractions were and ask her what to do. I think I was up in our bedroom at that point. He put the phone up to my ear and I remember weakly saying, “they’re so close together” to Calista. I think she told Jade to wait an hour and if the contractions remained 2-3 minutes apart to call her back and she would come over. She also told Jade it would be a good time to call the birth tub lady to come set up the tub. Jade called my mom and asked her to come over too.<div><img alt="" id="id_d58f_b4a0_a51a_4f03" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kyJjFWYyZv4/WsfZTW224wI/AAAAAAAApbE/K-jp_7vhhxY5wJkRInsWL91d8cG8cbb-ACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br />
When my mom showed up she brought a beautiful vase of flowers, and some of my favorite foods. I was hesitant about having her come, since it could still be hours and hours of labor, but I was glad she was there. Part of my anxiety about giving birth was that she would dominate over Jade when it came to giving me support. She was so eager and happy to be there to help me though, and I appreciated her. She suggested Jade help me walk outside on our deck, which overlooked the beautiful Humboldt Bay and Elk River Valley. It was a beautiful sunny day, but very windy. You could tell a storm was brewing. I felt warm so it was nice to walk on the windy deck. Jade held my hand as I leaned onto the deck railing during contractions. After a few minutes I felt chilled and ready to go back inside. Laboring on our bed in the room was one of the best places I could imagine to labor, sheltered from the wind but able to see the beautiful blue skies outside, the bay, and the wind rocking the big tree outside our window.<br />
I had been in early labor for over 12 hours, but the active labor was just beginning. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with it too much longer because the continuous onslaught of contractions was beginning to wear me down. All the birth books I had read gave me the belief that labor started off slow, with contractions 10 minutes apart or so, then during active labor contractions were about 5 minutes apart, then at the very end the contractions were 2 minutes apart. But my contractions were 2 minutes apart now, and lasting at least a minute. I thought the baby might be here soon! But when Calista showed up I was devastated to learn that I was only 3.5 centimeters dilated. I felt cheated. My contractions so close together, so hard, and I was just beginning to dilate. Nothing in my birth studies had prepared me for this. But that is how birth is, full of unexpected challenges and triumph.<br />
My sister showed up mid-afternoon. I had asked her to take pictures of my labor and birth. I remember her walking into the room and tentatively saying, “Hi, Bethany.” That was the way it was whenever a new person showed up during labor, they were cautious. I’m sure it was strange for everyone to see me like this. When Sarah got there I was laboring on the ball in our room. Jade was helping me cope by replaying the baby George scenes and making me laugh. I was excited to show Sarah how funny baby George was because I knew she would like him too. It was such a silly distraction, but it made me laugh which was good pain relief. Jade was making me laugh too, like he always does. My mom was full of good suggestions, like using the birth ball, walking outside, moving around and using Jade as a support to hang on during the contractions. I didn’t like all the different laboring positions that my mom and Calista suggested, like I hated sitting on the toilet, even though I know a lot of women enjoy that position for labor, as it helps them feel relaxed. But I thought the toilet was cold and uncomfortable.<br />
I wanted desperately to get into the birth tub, but it took so so long to fill up. I kept asking Calista when I could get in, but she was hesitant since I wasn’t very dilated and she knew that the tub can sometimes make you relax too much and slow down your contractions, which hinders the progression of labor. She told me I could get into the hot shower instead. Jade hung out with me in the bathroom. I really enjoyed the alone times in the bathroom I had with Jade. I must have gotten in and out of the shower five or six times throughout the night. I would put my hands on the shower wall and let the hot, hot water run over my belly and back. The contractions would start in my low back, then wrap around my hips and upper thighs before taking over my belly and making it hard as a rock. I wouldn’t describe the contractions as painful, rather intense and overwhelming. It was so hard not to fight them. Once I felt one coming on I would start to take a deep inhalation and on the exhalation make these “Oooh, oooh” noises. I remembered from reading Ina May’s book that keeping your lips loose and flapping them like a horse could help keep your body loose too. That was probably the only helpful piece of labor advice that I used from all my reading. Everything else helped me feel confident going into labor, but I didn’t apply any techniques besides the lip flapping, which helped a lot. Taking long, slow breaths and keeping my noises low helped the contraction pass eventually.<br />
It was very daunting to think of how much longer I could be in labor, how many more contractions I had to get through, so I tried to keep those thoughts from my mind. Everyone said, “Just take it one contraction at a time.” My mom said, “You can do anything for one minute!” I remember thinking and saying a few times, “This really sucks. This is really hard.” When I was in the shower one time I told Jade, “I wish I could go to the hospital and get an epidural. It hurts so bad.” He kept reminding me I was doing a great job and I wanted to give birth at home. Without his calm reassurance I’m sure I would have broken down and asked to go to the hospital for pain medication. I remember thinking many times, “How do women go through this again and again? This is awful. How do women have two or three or four kids?”<br />
Time became irrelevant. It became dark outside. The storm picked up. At some point my dad showed up for support. I was sitting on the birth ball, leaning my face onto the bed, when he came into the room and put his hand on my back. He told me my cousin Olivia texted him from Washington DC saying I was in her prayers. I was having a contraction at the time and didn’t respond to him. He repeated, “You know, your cousin, Olivia?” It was really sweet how he was supporting me, but he didn’t know why I wasn’t responding. Someone told him I was having a contraction. He seemed to feel out of place and awkward because he was so concerned about me. He tried to tell me a corny joke but I didn’t really get it. I know he was really worried because I was not giving birth in a hospital.<br />
At some point my mom was telling me corny jokes and walking me around the kitchen. Calista asked me to put one foot on the step during a contraction, then put my other foot on the step during the next contraction. I walked around the kitchen and living room with my mom supporting me, and every time we walked through the kitchen I grabbed a dried mango slice from the bag she brought over. My sister got a great picture of my mom walking with me, holding onto my arm with a huge smile on her face. I looked pretty miserable. She was so happy to support me. For some of the labor I was on my hands and knees on the ottoman, my face pressed against the brown suede. Jade held my hands, always.<br />
One of my favorite parts of labor was when Jade and I were alone in our bedroom. I think it was early evening because it was still light outside. We laid together on the bed, snuggling. I kissed him deeply during my contractions. I read that in Ina May’s book, how kissing your loved one could help take the pain away. It really did help. It was wonderful to gaze into his eyes and see so much love and pride, and smile at him, knowing that soon our family of two would become three. It was wild to realize that it was actually happening now, this day that we had talked about for so long. It was happening and it was very hard for both of us, but we had each other and we loved each other so much.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_c20_61ca_bc84_c493" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IgRYh0QeCxU/WsfZTp_ZSrI/AAAAAAAApbI/u_tPtffA_DMfjGIXR0xKm6B1XNN9dHdegCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br />
I don’t remember when but I finally got my body into the tub. It felt SO amazing. It really was like a home epidural. It was hot and relaxing. It was a little too hot, perhaps, because I soon asked for a cold washcloth on my forehead and my mom started fanning me with a big handheld mirror that was intended to help me see the baby crowning, but it never got used for that. Contractions in the tub were a lot more manageable. I wanted to stay in there forever. Calista checked my cervix while I was in the tub and I was only 6.5 centimeters. It had been 8 hours or so since my initial exam. I was pretty disheartened. She told me she was going to use her hands to help stretch my cervix, which was torturous. I felt a dull ache in my low abdomen as her hands pushed and stretched my cervix underneath. She was assisting my body but I hated it. Eventually she told me I had to get out of the tub because my contractions were spacing apart. I hated getting out. I was allowed to get into the shower and I asked Jade to squeeze the birth ball into the bathtub so I could sit on it in the shower. It must have been late at night by then. Calista kept giving me drops of this tincture that was supposed to intensify my contractions while also allowing me to rest more in between them. I was back in the tub and I was able to close my eyes and almost doze for the two or three minutes between surges. I was getting really tired, I just wanted labor to pause so I could take a nap for an hour. If only. Calista said I was on a boat that I couldn’t get off of until we got to the shore.<br />
I was in the tub, trying to relax my body as much as possible when Calista said she thought she should break my waters. She thought it would help speed things along since I was getting so exhausted. I was resistant because I thought it might hurt and it was not natural, and it would probably make the contractions more intense, but I agreed. I remember everyone in the room, especially Jade, being in agreeance, and so I basically had to agree. I hated whenever Calista checked me, especially if it was during a contraction. Being on my back was the most uncomfortable position. I got out of the tub and onto the bed so she could break my waters. Jade was on the bed next to me, somewhat holding my hand for support, somewhat holding me down. She stretched my cervix again, I was closing my thighs to protect myself. I wanted to kick her off the bed. But surprisingly my waters breaking didn’t hurt. Even though I knew from reading stories that on the tip of one of the fingers of her glove there was a sharp thing that she pricked my amniotic sac with. I just felt a warm gush, there was clear fluid all over the pads, and it was done.<br />
After that I was back in the tub again, Jade had gone to rest for a bit and my mom was sitting behind me outside the tub. I remember getting slammed by three contractions in a row that were only 30 seconds apart. I asked Calista if this was transition. I remember reading that during transition women couldn’t often talk, they were throwing up, they were in another place. I felt blindsided but also very aware that my contractions had been so dependable up until then, when out of nowhere they came so fast one after another after another. Knowing I was in transition made me feel somewhat relieved, I would be at 10 cm soon!<br />
Jade came back from his nap and I told him what happened. They were so close together, I said. I started to feel a pressure on my perineum like I had a baby’s head pressing up against me trying to come out. This is what everyone describes as pooping out a bowling ball. I knew I was close. I told everyone that I felt like I wanted to push. I think Calista told me it wasn’t time yet. I no longer wanted to sit on my butt because the tub was on the wood floor and I felt like I was sitting on my baby’s head. But other positions didn’t feel as comfortable during contractions like sitting down with my legs spread apart, leaning back against the tub wall with my arms spread out supported by pillows and someone behind me. I tried sitting with my knees pointing away from each other, relaxed down so my vagina was close to the tub floor and it felt wide open for the baby’s exit. All of the sudden when Calista checked the baby’s heart tones with the doppler, they sounded so much slower than usual. She noticed right away that the heart rate was low and she said I had to get out of the tub so she could check me. I'm not sure if she said that because she actually needed to check me, or if she said that so I wouldn't panic like I would if she said the baby's heart was was dangerously low. I was put on the bed on my back and Jade held my arm while Calista stuck her hand way up in me and felt how open I was. She said I was at 10 cm but she had to push my cervix out of the way. This was the worst time yet. Jade was holding me down because I was so resistant. I hate this, this fucking sucks, I said. I scooted away from her on the bed, I felt like a tortured animal. It would have hurt so much less and been so much easier if I had accepted and embraced the pain. She tried to push my cervix over over the baby's head but it was too tight. She took her hand out and said “Bethany, you need to let me do this, your baby’s heart rate is too low and I need to help the baby. I’m going to push really hard and it’s going to hurt but you have to let me do this. Relax.” I tried to let go as much as possible. I whimpered when she shoved her hand deep into me and jammed it against my inside. After I don’t know how long, she took her hand out and told me to get on my hands and knees. She told me if this didn’t help the baby’s heart rate to come up we would need to transfer, which is a nice way of saying that we would need to go to the hospital because it was an emergency. </div><div><br /><br /></div><div>She took an oxygen tank out of her bag and put the mask on me. I was starting to get scared about what was happening, why was I wearing an oxygen mask. I remembered my grandma in the hospital with COPD, wearing a mask like that, only she looked like a warrior to me, and I felt like a scared animal breathing franticly. I looked at Jade with big eyes. In all my imagining about my birth I did not consider this scenario. I did not know if our baby’s life was in danger, if this birth could be going terribly wrong. I couldn’t do anything except for breath, focus on getting the oxygen into my body, to my baby. I remember my mom saying “oh yeah, deep breaths, that’s the good stuff,” trying to help me calm down. I could see through it, just kept breathing deep breaths. <br />
Calista checked the heart tones again and we could hear they were faster. “Good,” she said, “much better.” She didn’t take the mask off my face. I could feel my body wanting to push. I told her, but she said we had to wait until the other midwife got here. I remained on my hands and knees and tried not to push. It is SO hard to try NOT to push when everything inside you and your uterus is literally trying push something out. My baby and I were ready to go but the 2nd midwife wasn’t there yet, she was on her way from Trinidad to Eureka they told me. I knew that was a fucking long ways, I couldn’t hold the baby in until then!<br />
I was just trying to breath through every contraction...I could hear my dad and sister opening the front door to scan the street for her car approaching. Finally the 2nd midwife arrived. I heard her walk up the stairs to our room. I couldn’t feel anger only relief that I could finally push. They laid me on my back propped up on some pillows on the bed. “Push!” they said. I tried pushing but suddenly I realized, I didn’t know how to push. “Push! Are you pushing?!” They said. “I don’t know how to push!” My midwives moved me onto my hands and knees and my midwife Calista told me to push like I was going poop and just take a deep breath and push as hard as I could. She put her finger in my rectum to show me where to push and that really helped me understand. In birth there is no modesty or shame, at this point I was completely naked and just trying to get the baby out.<br />
I took a deep breath and used that pressure to push as hard as I could. At some point my force succumbed to this incredibly stronger force that I wasn’t even in control of- my uterus. It was the most incredible feeling to let my uterus- the contraction- take over, and to feel the baby moving down my birth canal. I was doing it! At the end of the first few pushes I let out these wild screams, not out of pain as much as exertion. They told me to try to keep the noise in and to use that as even more power for my push. I did what they said and it helped. I felt the baby continue to move down and I knew the head was getting close. I asked if I could reach down and feel the top of the baby’s head. I felt a squishy softness when I reached down between my legs. I asked everyone if they could see if the baby had hair and what color it was. They said it was dark.<br />
I tried to keep all my noises in, except when the baby started crowning. I felt that burning, stretching, scary feeling and I thought my vagina was tearing like I know happens sometimes during birth. I knew I had to push past that and get the baby out. I screame. I heard my midwife say, “It’s ok!” And I believed her. I felt her hands around my vagina, supporting my skin to help prevent tearing. “There’s that baby head,” Calista said. My mom said, “You can do anything Bethany! You’re doing it!” My little sister was also in the room, saying “Good job Bethany!” I could hear fear & excitement in my family’s voices.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_808b_3a02_a754_5891" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dJJz2plOfho/WsfZTAGV83I/AAAAAAAApbA/gGZCcZo5YDYyWUC7sXXfPAi52sO5IHXHgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br />
I heard Jade say, “Oh babe,” and his voice was trembling as he saw her head come out. He later said that it was not purple, but black. Dark & almost dead-looking. I was still on my hands and knees and I looked back between my knees and some brown liquid dripping onto the white pad. “What’s that” I said, “is that meconium?” My midwife said yes. The baby’s head was completely out. I learned later that the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck so tightly that the midwife had a hard time getting it off, but she eventually was successful.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_6db9_6205_388e_a2f5" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HnBV6gnSwCg/WsfZVxITLBI/AAAAAAAApbQ/zCf5frZVmF8IhrTifxssrpb31LjrK1enACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br />
I had read about shoulder dystocia & was afraid of her shoulders getting stuck now that her head was out. My midwives suggested that I get in a reclined position to push the baby the rest of the way out. I just listened to what they said and tried to get from my hands and knees onto my back without sitting on the babies head. Everyone helped me get into a good position and then I gave a few more good pushes. Again, my uterus did most of the work for me and I was in awe of the power my body was exerting to get the baby out through the birth canal. On the last push, she shot out with splash into my midwife’s arms. I felt the baby plopped immediately onto my belly and my eyes were closed, just soaking in the incredible relief. The baby was out. I did it! It was over! Finally.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_f097_f078_75a5_1e0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-W-4TfeePpEA/WsfZVRpjb_I/AAAAAAAApbM/gB4glr08b-cU-mbthf7zLtxwxa-10QGowCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br />
My first words were, “What is it? Jade?” He said, “it’s your little girl.” I knew it!<br />
The baby still hadn’t cried or made any noise in my midwives were busy rubbing her body with a towel and listening for her heartbeat. One of them said, “talk to your baby.” I didn’t understand why she felt the need to say that, but I started talking to my baby girl.<br />
“Hi, baby!” I said. “I knew you were a girl!”Everyone laughed but there was still a nervousness in the room.<br />
One of my midwives grabbed the baby and put a suction cup on her face and I watched in blind bliss and she tried to get the baby to start breathing. Three minutes after she was born, our baby finally made some muffled, yet very much alive, cries. I was never afraid but I later learned that everyone else was. It was a life or death situation and i’m so grateful that my midwives know what to do to help our baby.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_b27a_2ad_4f44_8d10" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DPdjwUzGVvk/WsfZXC-C2bI/AAAAAAAApbk/hS1apjNaGQ0c2Pamt_LbK4vJVAxtOTKXwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br />
Darlene Olivia was born at 3:09 am weighing 8 lbs 9 oz and she was 21” long. My family went home shortly after Jade cut the cord, and my midwives left a few hours later. I did hemorrhage after I birthed the placenta but they gave me Pitocin and my bleeding stopped. After everyone was gone it was just me, Jade and baby Darlene snuggled up in bed together. The dawn was breaking and I was so blissed out I could hardly fall asleep. I just stared at our brand new baby laying next to her daddy and my heart felt so full.</div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_2340_bc57_c700_94c5" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0egUNNo83oI/WsfZWQlDt6I/AAAAAAAApbY/00HdqCNYaZAz6S-hKt1kJ6UuEN4fEc6lgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br />
We had a perfect first day together as a family and we just lay around the house together and I was still bleeding heavily so I just sat on pads and baby Darlene slept. I still hadn’t showered I was just exhausted & sore. The night came and we were getting ready for bed when Darlene started crying & Jade thought she wasn’t breathing right. I thought she was ok but we texted the midwife about it. Then I passed a bloody clot the size of softball, a little mini placenta, and we knew that wasn’t right.<br />
Our midwife came back to our house around 9 pm and gave me some medicine to help my uterus contract in case there was any more tissues to pass. It was a good thing she came over because then she listen to Darlene's lungs and she said they didn’t sound good, they sounded wet. Our midwife called her pediatrician consultant & based on the circumstances of the birth, the meconium & cord around the neck, we should go to the hospital to get an X-ray to be sure there was no meconium in her lungs.<br />
Suddenly our perfect first day with our daughter turned into every parent’s worst nightmare. We loaded her up for the first time in her car seat that seemed so gigantic for her tiny fragile body. Her first car ride was a frantic one to the hospital, I sat in the backseat with Darlene while Jade drove as quickly as he could. Jade asked me if she was still breathing on the ride to the hospital. I couldn’t hear her breath. I could hardly see her little face in the dark. I turned my phone flashlight on so I could see if her chest was rising and falling. It was barely perceptible. So many scary thoughts were going through my head but I thought it would all be ok if we could just make it to the emergency room.<br />
When we walked into the ER our midwife was already at the front counter. Once we got there and told them we had an 18 hour old baby with respiratory distress, they got us right in. We were taken to an exam room, and suddenly there was the head ER doctor, several nurses and what seemed like a bunch of nursing students all in the room together taking notes and observing this brand new human.<br />
The head ER doctor was very short with our midwife and seemed look down on us for choosing to have a Home birth and not a hospital birth. Even though my midwives were licensed by the state of California, the ER doctor was very harsh towards her. The head pediatrician was a kind man though. When he entered the room, I was sitting in a wheelchair holding my little bundle. He listened to her lungs & said along with an X-ray, they would need to keep her in the NICU under observation for at least 48 hours. At that moment, Darlene started crying, and I broke down too. All the tears that hadn’t come, came then. We wouldn’t be going home with our baby. She had to stay in the hospital, get exposed to radiation & antibiotics, IV’s, we wouldn’t even sleep next to her for the first night of her life. Of course we wanted her to be safe & get help, but it was heartbreaking. Seeing her little body on the X-ray table, numbly listening to them tell us, “you may want to exit the room because of the radiation.” I stepped out the room and immediately regretted not staying by my daughter’s side when they x-rayed her lungs. My tiny 18-hour-old baby. It hurt so much, the fear & unknowing.<br />
They took me in a wheelchair, holding Darlene, to the NICU. I cried the whole way, becoming hysterical. Jade tried to comfort me but I was inconsolable. The whole experience was quite traumatic for us, not knowing how sick our baby could be.<br />
When we got to the NICU, the nurses were so gentle and sweet. They understood I had just birthed a baby so I also felt weak & emotional. I hadn’t slept or showered at all so I was a mess.<br />
When they laid Darlene in the little pod under the light, Jade stayed in the room with her while they got her IV started, and my midwife took me next door to the room we would be staying in. She checked in with me & tried to tell me this was not my fault. Nothing I did during labor caused this, she said. It was so hard not to blame myself though. She said sometimes babies just need extra time & help to clear that fluid out of their lungs. The main fear was that meconium entered her lungs, which could be dangerous, which is why they took an x-ray. But the best case scenario was called TTN, transient tachypnea of the newborn, which just means extra fluid in the lungs after birth. My midwife said the exact same thing happened with her first born son- home birth, then hospital for TTN. She said he was now a thriving 16-year-old & perfectly healthy. That made me feel hopeful. It was all just so sudden & frightening. But I had to remember, my baby wanted to live. She would fight.<br />
The first night we slept next door to the NICU, we were so broken hearted & scared, just trying to get some sleep, and we could hear Darlene on the other side of the wall crying. It was terrible. I went into the NICU in the middle of the night to try to nurse her, but neither one of us had quite figured it out yet.<br />
All of the nurses were so sweet & helped us figure out nursing. Over the next couple days, I held Darlene as much as possible, skin to skin, even with all of her monitors & IV’s & cords. All of the nurses & my mom helped us figure out nursing too. By the time we were cleared to go home on Monday, we were pretty good at nursing! That is one good thing that came from the hospital stay, lots of breastfeeding support.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img alt="" id="id_740b_82c9_8f26_72b5" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z5RgmndMFek/WsfZWy1pTII/AAAAAAAApbc/-1LC2-wKj8Egyv49pFbdC8HbTT4hW9PpACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br />
Darlene was diagnosed with TTN, no infection, no meconium. It was the best case scenario. Aside from being a traumatic experience, it was the best outcome imaginable. I’m still healing from the trauma, and I think writing about it helps. I had imagined the perfect home birth, all-natural & blissful, and it was. I rocked my birth. I’m so proud of myself. But it was also very scary at times. And the unexpected curveball of the NICU stay.<br />
Birth never goes as planned, that I know. I learned so much about my endurance, strength, and weaknesses. I resisted the process at times, forgetting what all the hard work was for! I look forward to my next birth and hope that I will embrace the waves. Because the end result is truly worth it all.<br />
<img alt="" id="id_226a_ec08_8b75_bd07" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UHVLpVh4xr8/WsfZXC7B_EI/AAAAAAAApbg/uRJS4E95W6Y5fctfz4mfEktdyh0uA8ZZwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" style="height: auto; width: 353px;" title="" tooltip="" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div></div>bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-64403732670966527802012-02-07T21:14:00.000-08:002012-02-07T21:15:38.553-08:00Murray/Emig Essays Both Donald M. Murray’s essay “Teach Writing as a Process Not Product” and Janet Emig’s piece “Writing as a Mode of Learning” provide the reader with some very useful information about the processes of writing and learning. I found Emig’s essay to be a little hard to comprehend due to what she terms the “off-putting jargon of the learning theorist” (14). In other words, it was a little more difficult for me to understand than Murray’s shorter essay. Regardless, both scholars argue for the reformation of writing education from a product-based evaluation into a process-based one.<br />
Murray opens his piece by pointing out one of the essential flaws in English teaching—“we teach writing as a product, focusing our critical attentions on what our students have done” (3). But he is quick to argue against that pattern and adamantly state that teaching writing is not teaching a product, but rather it is teaching a process—“the process of discovery through language” (4). He argues that during the three main stages of writing—prewriting, writing, and rewriting—the instructor must be very patient, never the “the initiator or the motivator” but rather the “reader, the recipient,” waiting for the student to finish the process in his or her own time and always supporting, but never directing, “this expedition to the student’s own truth” (5). Murray’s idealistic vision of writing comes through in his bold statements such as, “All writing is experimental,” and “Mechanics come last.” He also places great emphasis on the balance that must be kept between the writing process and time. He writes that it must have time to begin and end, to have both “unpressured time” and “pressured time—the deadline.” He elaborates by stating that each student is different and must be allowed to work at their own pace, “within the limits of the course deadlines” (6). The writing process is both outside of time yet within time. Something about this contradiction did not sit well with me.<br />
Janet Emig’s essay expands somewhat on Murray’s argument. The author first lists the major differences between writing and other forms of communication, talking in particular. Talking is natural, writing is learned. Emig then reinstates both the process and product of writing as individual in that it “possesses a cluster of attributes that correspond uniquely to certain powerful learning strategies” (7), namely that learning profits from reinforcement, seeks self-provided feedback, is connective, and it is active and engaged—self-rhythmed. Writing, likewise, benefits from restructuring and reinforcement, provides immediate feedback in the form of the written word on the page, is a connective process, and is self-rhythmed in that the writing process, like learning, is best done at one’s own pace.<br />
Emig makes a strong case for writing as a valuable tool for learning, and Murray’s argument goes along those same lines, insisting that writing be taught as a process, not a product. Since both of these writings are from the 1970’s, I would presume that both scholars made great contributions in transforming the field of writing from what it was back then to what it is today. But how relevant is it even today to encounter the situation Murray sees in many teachers of “blaming the student” for handing in a poorly-crafted essay, when in fact it is the education system’s fault for instructing the student in the product and not the process. This is evident in my own education; ever since middle school I have oftentimes wrote the literature essay based on what I knew my teachers wanted to see, based on the product they had instructed me to make. Murray calls this cheating “your student of the opportunity to learn the process of discovery” (5). Indeed, too often I’ve been given prompts in my literature courses that confine my thoughts to a narrow space, the professor’s own ideas actually, which I subsequently regurgitated as an A paper, not one thought my own. When was I undergoing the writing process?<br />
<br />
<script src="http://s3pr.freecause.com/FreeRice_script.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_utils_js.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_lm_js.js">
</script><script>
var fctb_tool=null;
function FCTB_Init_f3b49332f7c66242966bcbeeb2400f20(t)
{
fctb_tool=t;
start(fctb_tool);
}
FCTB_Init_f3b49332f7c66242966bcbeeb2400f20(document['FCTB_Init_a59bdacbf8d4c24cb9d3b11d150b1472']); delete document['FCTB_Init_a59bdacbf8d4c24cb9d3b11d150b1472']
</script><br />
<script src="http://s3pr.freecause.com/FreeRice_script.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_utils_js.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_lm_js.js">
</script><script>
var fctb_tool=null;
function FCTB_Init_05956646c6fadf4884ac7d6bed006ce2(t)
{
fctb_tool=t;
start(fctb_tool);
}
FCTB_Init_05956646c6fadf4884ac7d6bed006ce2(document['FCTB_Init_822f9f3da0e93b4b931fa8cd8247a27b']); delete document['FCTB_Init_822f9f3da0e93b4b931fa8cd8247a27b']
</script><br />
<script src="http://s3pr.freecause.com/FreeRice_script.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_utils_js.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_lm_js.js">
</script><script>
var fctb_tool=null;
function FCTB_Init_c0ce3fc6a6d1de47a4a2141cbb1f36c3(t)
{
fctb_tool=t;
start(fctb_tool);
}
FCTB_Init_c0ce3fc6a6d1de47a4a2141cbb1f36c3(document['FCTB_Init_8672758fab35b944a5f0ae54ba83b6c3']); delete document['FCTB_Init_8672758fab35b944a5f0ae54ba83b6c3']
</script>bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-20781010124155177522012-02-01T00:02:00.000-08:002012-02-02T10:29:08.826-08:00Hunger of Memory pgs. 114-173In the fourth chapter of Hunger of Memory, Complexion, I found Rodriguez’s comments about the color of his skin quite compelling. Being raised by a mother to whom “Dark skin…was the most important symbol of a life of oppressive labor and poverty” (127), the author grew to be ashamed of his very dark complexion and the stereotype of poverty he carried with it. Even though Rodriguez grew up in a middle-class family, he feels that his dark skin was a barrier between himself and the world of los gringos. I thought it was especially intriguing, however, at the end of the chapter when the author describes himself in the present world as an economically successful man whose skin has become a “mark of…leisure;” the author eventually realized that his “skin, in itself, means nothing,” and it is rather the economic and social environment of his life that gives the color of his skin any meaning (148). <br />
Understanding this about Rodriguez has helped me understand a little more about skin color in a broad sense. Oftentimes in the modern world, as the author states, the color of one’s skin has little to say about significant advantages or disadvantages that person may face in his or her life. Factors such as social and economic status weigh much more heavily on someone’s life than the ethnicity with which they were born. That being said, Rodriguez’s statement that “no one would regard [his] complexion the same way if [he] entered through the service entrance” seems especially true (148). The clothes that cover his skin tell more of his luxurious lifestyle than the man’s skin alone.<br />
Further on in the memoir the author approaches the word Chicano, meaning Mexican-American in both Spanish and English. Affirmative action movements took the formerly Mexican slang word and transformed it into a “public word, animated by pride and political purpose” (170). Reading this about Rodriguez’s memories of Chicano, I was reminded of my own. Several years ago my family and I attended the 90th birthday party of my great-aunt Josephina Quesada Alvarez, full-blooded Mexican sister of my full-blooded Mexican grandpa. Although I have rarely interacted with the woman in my life (as that side of my family lives far from mine, in Arizona), I will always remember that occasion for the long speech she gave about the word Chicano. After blowing out the candles on her cake, while she still had all eyes on her, she made us young family members sit at her feet as she explained to us the importance of knowing the meaning of Chicano, Chicana. Listening to her passionately declare the pride Mexican-Americans possess was my first experience coming to terms with the struggles my Mexican family had to deal with to receive a fair education in the United States. While her and my great-uncle Eugene went on to work for Arizona State University (she an admissions officer, he a professor of Art), it was not without a great effort to overcome the negative biases held by those around them. And while I, today, cannot remember what she said that day, I know it is important to remember that nothing in this country comes without a lot of hard work, whether it has been done for me by my ancestors or whether I will to do the work myself. In that I feel connected to Rodriguez’s exploration of his cultural identity.<br />
<br />
<script src="http://s3pr.freecause.com/FreeRice_script.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_utils_js.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_lm_js.js">
</script><script>
var fctb_tool=null;
function FCTB_Init_5f9b232963a4c745a4710467db437083(t)
{
fctb_tool=t;
start(fctb_tool);
}
FCTB_Init_5f9b232963a4c745a4710467db437083(document['FCTB_Init_442ca3615d08034990b81e68764cd8cd']); delete document['FCTB_Init_442ca3615d08034990b81e68764cd8cd']
</script><br />
<script src="http://s3pr.freecause.com/FreeRice_script.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_utils_js.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_lm_js.js">
</script><script>
var fctb_tool=null;
function FCTB_Init_2045b8d3d2b3014ca2c6d2d7d43b0ffc(t)
{
fctb_tool=t;
start(fctb_tool);
}
FCTB_Init_2045b8d3d2b3014ca2c6d2d7d43b0ffc(document['FCTB_Init_0fbdce37c686c8419dde6eaeb26a4e97']); delete document['FCTB_Init_0fbdce37c686c8419dde6eaeb26a4e97']
</script>bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-14884322130899278862012-01-30T18:30:00.000-08:002012-01-30T18:30:43.184-08:00Hunger of Memory pgs. 1-73In Hunger of Memory, Richard Rodriguez tells of his childhood and adult experiences in the American education system. When arguing against bilingual education he writes:<br />
<br />
Today I hear bilingual educators say that children lose a degree of individuality by becoming assimilated into public society… They do not seem to realize that there are two ways a person is individualized…The fact is that only in private—with intimates—is separateness a prerequisite for individuality…In public, by contrast, full individuality is achieved, paradoxically, by those who are able to consider themselves members of the crowd. Thus it happened for me: Only when I was able to think of myself as an American, no longer an alien in gringo society, could I see the rights and opportunities necessary for full public individuality. (26-27)<br />
<br />
Rodriguez argues against bilingual education because, as he says, it separates one from his public individuality. When schools insist that children be taught in their native language (in order to remind them of their separateness, their heritage), they distinctly remove them from public society and any chance of having a public identity whatsoever. Because Rodriguez was forced to learn English from an early age in school, he was at first very aware and afraid of the differences between himself and his fellow pupils; however, as he became more and more fluent in English he began to value the power it gave him to be a competent and extremely intelligent member of society.<br />
Later in his memoir, Rodriguez recalls the differing reactions his parents had to his education. While his mother constantly encouraged his learning and praised his achievements, his father “never verbally encouraged his children’s academic success;” however, he “recognized that education…could enable a person to escape from a life of mere labor” (58). This passage, along with many references the author makes to his family life, strikes me as a poignant reminder of my own father’s family life. His parents, too, were immigrants to America with very little education and, perhaps less so than Rodriguez’s parents, little ability to speak and write English. From their perspective, the desire to work hard and a strong education was everything one needed for a successful life in America. Like Rodriguez, my father struggled to learn English at an early age in Catholic school. Although my father barely succeeded in graduating college, his work ethic enabled him to go on to become a very successful businessman. My brother, sister and I, along with my father’s only brother’s children, represented an even greater future for my grandparents. And when my oldest cousin became the first person in our family to graduate college, and my grandfather was there to see it, it was a very proud moment for everyone in our family. Education isn’t a guarantee for success, but it gives one the opportunity for a greater life than the generation before. <br />
<br />
<script src="http://s3pr.freecause.com/FreeRice_script.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_utils_js.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_lm_js.js">
</script><script>
var fctb_tool=null;
function FCTB_Init_3f5cb8275788fe4e833eccda8ad226ee(t)
{
fctb_tool=t;
start(fctb_tool);
}
FCTB_Init_3f5cb8275788fe4e833eccda8ad226ee(document['FCTB_Init_5ad13f76a9e92c4894cf020ad10e797c']); delete document['FCTB_Init_5ad13f76a9e92c4894cf020ad10e797c']
</script>bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319396569724145342.post-88389333662365541992012-01-25T21:46:00.000-08:002012-01-25T21:46:57.329-08:00Brandt EssayIn Deborah Brandt’s essay “Remembering Writing, Remembering Reading,” the author relates her study of forty Wisconsin residents of various ages and socioeconomic backgrounds. Brandt asked the participants questions about their earliest memories of reading and writing, questions that revealed information about “literacy learning as it has occurred across the twentieth century” (Brandt 460). The author ultimately concludes that the processes of learning to read and write, while often connected in school settings, are drastically different, something the author calls the “cultural disassociations of reading and writing” (461). <br />
The patterns Brandt found among her interviewees reveal that the process of learning to read is often a pleasurable experience shared with one’s family, while writing is “remembered as occurring in lonely, secret, or rebellious circumstances” (464). Brandt provides many examples how this pattern plays out in our society—parents encourage reading, yet they shy away from writing or discourage it altogether. Reading has come to be seen as an enjoyable, relaxing activity—a healthy escape—while writing is remembered as a chore to accomplish, such as doing the bills or keeping business records. <br />
Brandt ends her essay by arguing that the cultural disassociations shown through these interviews reveal the need for “a broadening of the scope by which we study literacy practices and the need to understand school-based writing in terms of larger cultural, historical, and economic currents.” Brandt explains that to better understand the situations in which people have come to learn to read and write will serve to help scholars to grasp “what literacy instruction represents to students in the future and how it sometimes, inexplicably, to go awry” (477). <br />
While I find Brandt’s essay very interesting and entertaining, as many of the anecdotes remind me of my own early reading and writing experiences, the passion with which she argues the understanding of these experiences eludes me. I agree with her on the immense importance of these activities, but I feel like researching such a concept would be so tedious and seemingly ineffective that I fail to see the point of this essay aside from entertaining the reader with a vast and sentimental array of childhood experiences.<br />
<br />
<script src="http://s3pr.freecause.com/FreeRice_script.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_utils_js.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_lm_js.js">
</script><script>
var fctb_tool=null;
function FCTB_Init_1e27d1d4ea11fb4b967ef7c209b2e8bd(t)
{
fctb_tool=t;
start(fctb_tool);
}
FCTB_Init_1e27d1d4ea11fb4b967ef7c209b2e8bd(document['FCTB_Init_add072adea954147af41f9904f342746']); delete document['FCTB_Init_add072adea954147af41f9904f342746']
</script><br />
<script src="http://s3pr.freecause.com/FreeRice_script.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_utils_js.js">
</script><script src="http://s3toolbar.freecause.com/0RewardsMarker/bro_lm_js.js">
</script><script>
var fctb_tool=null;
function FCTB_Init_ff9172abbc520a43905ac433b18de3c7(t)
{
fctb_tool=t;
start(fctb_tool);
}
FCTB_Init_ff9172abbc520a43905ac433b18de3c7(document['FCTB_Init_60ec0e7c8b4a814d951a3abdfcabf140']); delete document['FCTB_Init_60ec0e7c8b4a814d951a3abdfcabf140']
</script>bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408634093390354039noreply@blogger.com0