tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429339333369593842024-03-13T22:01:54.036-04:00My Little Silly LifeDedicated to the people and moments that make My Little Silly Life.. just that.Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-84102233244882672692015-12-16T08:47:00.000-05:002015-12-16T08:47:21.823-05:00You Told My Son There's No Santa<span style="color: #454545; font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">To the kid that told my son there's no Santa,</span><br />
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First, let me start off by apologizing to you. I'm so sorry that someone ruined the magic of Christmas for you at such a young age. Maybe it was an older sibling or kid at school just being mean, but I'm sure it crushed you. And, as a mom, I'm sorry. I'm sorry someone crushed your spirit. </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm sure you remember what that felt like. That feeling when your heart gets hurt, when someone is mean, for no other reason than because someone was mean to them. It made you feel good to destroying the spirit of a child that still believes. </span></div>
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You told my son that Santa was really just Mommy and Daddy that get the presents. And while that may be true, doesn't that make Santa real? My parents were Santa, your parents are Santa, I'm Santa and someday, you will be Santa and to your kids, you too, will be real. </div>
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Because of you, I had to look into my son's sad eyes. Because of you I had to lie to my son. You say that I was already lying. Lying about a man called Santa. But you see, I'm not lying to my son. There is a Santa. He may not be a fat jolly old man that rides in a sleight, but he is real. </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Santa is the spirit of giving and doing good for others. It's seeing a smile on a strangers face from a random act of kindness. Santa is the joy in your child's face when he got the special toy he asked for when sitting on Santa's lap. Santa is happiness. Santa is the way your children ooh and ahh at the houses decorated in Christmas lights. It's hearing Christmas carols. It's the sound of your children's feet running down the hall to see what Santa left under the tree. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So, you see, Santa is real. And my Christmas wish for you is that Santa brings you your spirit back. That you use that spirit for good. That you remember what it was like to believe and that you believe again. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For now, my son still believes and I hope to keep the magic alive for him as long as I can.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Merry Christmas. </span></div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-46354432106754397512015-12-09T09:35:00.002-05:002015-12-09T09:35:35.601-05:00Recipe: Mini Apple PiesMy husband loves Entenmann's Apple Puffs. But most of the time I look for them in the store, I can't find them. Then a video popped up a few times in my Facebook newsfeed on how to make these at home. I figured this was a perfect solution, I can make them anytime I want and I know what ingredients are going into them. And I'll probably get more than what I get in the Entenmann's box.<br />
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When I couldn't sleep last night, I figured, why not give them a try. I searched Pinterest to try and find the video and couldn't, but after some searching, I was able to locate the original <a href="https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10154396704563761&id=225525523760&refsrc=https%3A%2F%2Fm.facebook.com%2Ftiphero%2Fvideos%2F10154396704563761%2F" target="_blank">instructional video</a> from Tip Hero. I wrote down the directions and ingredients and headed to the kitchen.<br />
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I've made it easy for you and listed everything here. I'll add my comments and suggestions after the recipe.<br />
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<b>Mini Apple Pies</b><br />
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1 box pie crust<br />
4 c. diced Granny Smith apples<br />
1/3 c. packed brown sugar<br />
1 tsp. apple pie spice<br />
1/2 tsp. cinnamon<br />
Pinch of salt<br />
2 tbsp. butter<br />
1 tbsp. cornstarch<br />
Egg wash<br />
Frosting recipe<br />
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1. Peel, core and dice apples<br />
2. Add brown sugar, apple pie spice, cinnamon and salt<br />
3. Mix together until apples are fully coated<br />
4. Melt butter in a pan and add apple mixture. Mix thoroughly and add cornstarch. Cook until the juice is nice and thick<br />
5. Roll out 1 pie crust. Scoop cooked apple mixture onto pie crust, spacing far enough apart to allow for edges<br />
6. Brush pie crust with egg wash to help top pie crust stick<br />
7. Place top pie crust on top and use a cookie cutter to make a "pocket"<br />
8. Remove extra pie crust and pinch edges of pockets with a fork<br />
9. Brush tops with egg wash and put a slit in the top to vent<br />
10. Put on parchment paper and bake at 375 for 15-18 minutes<br />
11. When cooled, mix powdered sugar, milk and vanilla to make frosting<br />
12. Drizzle over pies and serve<br />
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I realize the many of these videos are posted by people who have made them more than once and make it look so much easier than it really is. These were not incredibly difficult, however, I have a few suggestions/observations<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My "pies"<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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- For me, 4 cups of apples were WAY too much. I have a lot of leftover cooked apple mixture, but it's gonna go great with some vanilla ice cream! When I make regular apple pie, I use half Granny Smith and half Gala, so I did that here too.<br />
- I didn't have apple pie spice and it didn't make a difference.<br />
- In the video it appears that she gets quiet a few "pies" out of a standard pie crust, I was only able to get 7 and there was a lot of leftover crust.<br />
- I didn't have a cookie cutter in this shape, but found a drinking glass was a great substitute.<br />
- While the pies were good, it really tasted more like a mini apple pie than a puff. Next time, I'm going to try a puff pastry.<br />
- She didn't give instructions for the egg wash so I just looked it up, maybe it was a different egg wash than she used, but the pies didn't brown as nicely as hers did.<br />
- 15-18 minutes in the oven didn't seem to be quite enough, could also be my oven, so start with that timing and adjust as necessary.<br />
- I also looked up the recipe for the frosting, it was entirely too watery, so I made it a glaze.<br />
- All in all, these were pretty good and an okay substitute for the original. I'll definitely be working to perfect this one!!<br />
<br />Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-2348775587252698222015-12-02T08:00:00.000-05:002015-12-02T08:00:02.664-05:00My Not-So-Traditional Christmas TreeI'm very particular about my Christmas trees. I get it from my Mom. Her trees were always (and still are) so beautiful. The ornaments are perfectly coordinated and placed in just the right spot. Every. Single. Time.<br />
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I'll typically spend the entire time it's up, fluffing, rearranging and adjusting. I prefer even numbers and things that are symmetrical. I have weird quirks like that, but we'll talk about that another time.<br />
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This year with an 18 month old running around, I knew it would be nearly impossible to have my perfect tree. I needed a Plan B. A plan that would allow me to look past the bunched up ornaments and be okay with a tree that is in complete chaos. Cause really, it's complete and utter chaos.<br />
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Then I came across a photo on Facebook. It seemed like the answer and one that I could be okay with. One that would make me set aside my quirks and have a "fun" tree.<br />
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My husband and 6 year old are huge Star Wars fans, okay, I am too. So, with the movie coming out the week before Christmas, what better way to celebrate Star Wars and Christmas than with a Darth Vader Christmas tree. Yes, we dressed up our tree as Darth Vader and decorated with plastic Christmas balls and my son's Star Wars toy figures, which he picked out with very strategic reasoning. Yup, he's got it too. To my son, in advance, I'm so sorry. LOL.<br />
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By now, the ornaments and toys have made it to the top half of the tree. As the little one takes them off, the big one strategically places them right out of the little ones reach. Smart and a little evil. </div>
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While I miss my ornaments and my perfectly symmetrical tree, I am happy that the tree is a little untraditional this year. </div>
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It's a mess and it is the most beautiful mess I have ever seen. </div>
Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-83529798072561577452015-11-25T11:23:00.004-05:002015-11-25T11:24:21.803-05:00Giving Thanks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The last few years have been tough. We said goodbye to far too many beloved family members and friends, we’ve had financial struggles, lost jobs, started new jobs, made new friends and lost touch with others.<br />
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And while I’m eternally grateful for my family and friends and all the good things, I’m also beginning to be grateful for the bad things too.<br />
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I know, who the hell would be grateful for pain and sadness? It’s through the sadness that I have learned and discovered things about myself and my world that I may not have seen without those struggles.<br />
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1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m grateful for crappy baseboard heat. It gives me a reason to snuggle close with my husband and our boys.<br />
2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m grateful for financial struggles. Watching every penny has made me reevaluate my needs versus my wants. I can tell you, the two were very different.<br />
3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am grateful for loss. It has made me realize that tomorrow isn’t promised and to treasure even the most seemingly insignificant moments.<br />
4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m grateful for lost friendships. In retrospect, those friendships were over long before they ended. They were just anchors.<br />
5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m grateful for quitting my job. Going back to work when my youngest was just 7 weeks was awful. While we have to live more modestly, I’ll will never get this time with them again.<br />
6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m grateful for the times my husband wasn’t working. He got to share in our boys growing up and I am grateful for the back up.<br />
7.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m grateful for failure. Enough said.<br />
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So, at Thanksgiving, it is easy to be thankful for the things that went right, but also, be grateful for the things that didn’t go so well. There just may be something in there to be thankful for.<br />
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To all of my family, friends and followers:<br />
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<br />Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-14482409338154710142015-06-19T10:27:00.000-04:002015-06-19T10:27:57.866-04:00A Poem for DadEarly last year, I began writing a poem for my Dad. I wanted to do something special for him for Father's Day. My father was a man like no other. He loved everybody and he never judged. Even if he didn't like you, you'd never know it. He helped anyone he could. He gave me and my brother a great childhood, we rarely wanted for anything. He took such good care of my mother. He taught me so many valuable lessons, which at the time, seemed useless. But as I have gotten older, I have found the lessons and advice prove to be more useful than, I think, he even realized they would be. I wanted to honor that and him.<br />
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He unfortunately passed away before I completed it. I was too heartbroken over losing him and too overwhelmed with a new baby that I couldn't even fathom the thought of finishing it in time for Father's Day. But over the last few months, I have given it a second look and have finally completed it with an alternate ending.<br />
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So, this is for you Dad. A little something to tell you how much you mean to me and how lucky I am to have you as my Dad. I love and miss you always.<br />
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<b>A Poem for Dad</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A little girl's daddy is her first love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He is the man that will raise the bar for all other men that come into her life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He is her first protector. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She will love him unconditionally and look up to him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She looks to make him proud. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He teaches her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He teaches her the lessons she needs to take care of her self and protect herself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He teaches her to use her hands, to fix her car and install a new faucet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He guides her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He guides her in the direction that can best protect her and make her better than him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But when she chooses her own path, he is there to cheer her on when it goes well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And he's there to pick up the pieces and set her straight when she falls. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He loves her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She will defy him, disappoint him and make him mad. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She will make him happy and proud. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Through it all, he loves her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He lets her go. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He gives her to another man with faith that he has taught her well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That she has chosen the right man. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That he has taught her as much as he can to make her successful in her own life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He watches her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He watches her manage her own life, making her own way in the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He watches her build a home with her husband. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He boasts with pride when she begins a family of her own. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He watches her raise that family the best she can with all the tools he has given her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He dies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But even in death, he will continue to protect, teach, guide and love her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He still watches her. </span></div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-47801900895794209452015-05-22T08:35:00.000-04:002015-05-22T08:35:01.829-04:00Review: 1passwordIn this age of technology and electronic everything, there is a login and password for everything. Have you ever tried to enter your PIN into the microwave, I haven't, just saying...LOL.<div>
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On a typical day, you could require a login and password multiple times a day for multiple functions. You use a login and password to access your computer, another to access your email and another to log in to a website, like Facebook. You log in to your bank account to confirm any transactions. And this is all during your morning cup of coffee. Then when you get work and you have a whole other set of logins and passwords. </div>
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Personally, I know I have too many to remember and constantly having to reset passwords can get pretty annoying. And even then, you have to request a temporary password, log in to your email to get the link, then, probably the worst part of it all, trying to think of a new password that no one will guess, that hasn't been used for the last 5 passwords, contains 8-12 characters which must include a capital letter, a number and a symbol. As if that isn't enough, you still have to log in to the website! </div>
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I hate to admit it, but there was a time when I had all of my login and password information written on a piece of paper and tucked away "safely" in my wallet. This was until my husband read about an app called <b>1password</b>. </div>
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1password is available on both iOS and Android devices for free, however, there is a pro version that you can purchase for $6.99. The paid version offers more features and if you have or plan to get an Apple Watch, you will need the pro version for it to work on your watch. </div>
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You can store all your important information, such as logins and passwords, secure notes and even credit cards. I personally have only used the login and password function on the free version, so far. </div>
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So, how does 1password work? First download the app. Seriously, this app will change your life. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsWmnRgl0qTVHvpTT9ibbob3lz_gwTRQyM1yNxhWGHWaLWuyqIN28twktlcS3uuHdT-JsX-sjZYjtrOlXNx8IZKk0qQ2cVle3VqkPODZKC8zFjWCJGf5qqMpiXFIBBFDm0a68L9BjQg/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsWmnRgl0qTVHvpTT9ibbob3lz_gwTRQyM1yNxhWGHWaLWuyqIN28twktlcS3uuHdT-JsX-sjZYjtrOlXNx8IZKk0qQ2cVle3VqkPODZKC8zFjWCJGf5qqMpiXFIBBFDm0a68L9BjQg/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" /></a></div>
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If you have an Apple device with Touch ID, you can use your Touch ID to enter into the 1password app.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1aCmq7i49WKOZdhcyjrz4cl8DOZdRrrvNloU6xcoshTwcBcqAZo3b4mK1gb7GqFZL6gewu1M4ljMp0yskXGti2Ks-MSbVx1Xx9FBCaOktwGsEIVuekhyePdXn_yvKbTc4sSmZRrdLBg/s1600/IMG_9428.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1aCmq7i49WKOZdhcyjrz4cl8DOZdRrrvNloU6xcoshTwcBcqAZo3b4mK1gb7GqFZL6gewu1M4ljMp0yskXGti2Ks-MSbVx1Xx9FBCaOktwGsEIVuekhyePdXn_yvKbTc4sSmZRrdLBg/s320/IMG_9428.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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If you have an older Apple device or Android device, you can still use this app. You have the option of setting up a master password. I recommend setting up the master password. If someone else needs to access this information, Touch ID will do no good.<br />
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So, where do you store that password? When you set up your master password, you can add hints that will automatically pop up if you forget your password. My husband uses the app as well, and we each have the other's master password stored. This is a great idea in the event something happens and we need to access the other person's information.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhlwj24Tn3izQYMLfVCKTlIYlbQKknY1kTOjsUg4kvSu6E92WP7G0DP69bS8MJ9SXyKfwaIficxFBKazZY9NzqszYJQ-ughtDW28IMGPA8ImpOUXkCbnI4pVFW-eCvo0KqqeuWfFUEA/s1600/IMG_9429.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhlwj24Tn3izQYMLfVCKTlIYlbQKknY1kTOjsUg4kvSu6E92WP7G0DP69bS8MJ9SXyKfwaIficxFBKazZY9NzqszYJQ-ughtDW28IMGPA8ImpOUXkCbnI4pVFW-eCvo0KqqeuWfFUEA/s320/IMG_9429.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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Here are your logins and passwords. If you click on logins, you will see all of your entered logins in alphebetical order or simply type the login you are searching for into the search field and it will pull it up. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjayABlFh0-0XCbjFqMYMKvvrHFBP9yoVB9Wp5SttQOjCcddzflv-QdrllES39VNxcNX2JFqKvBjkYhWa9kDUr9snnAGQt_CO9EtNbT-JH3_U557N30Lc4vLJ4_iDQnFR0fzZ6VRnOG4Q/s1600/IMG_9430.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjayABlFh0-0XCbjFqMYMKvvrHFBP9yoVB9Wp5SttQOjCcddzflv-QdrllES39VNxcNX2JFqKvBjkYhWa9kDUr9snnAGQt_CO9EtNbT-JH3_U557N30Lc4vLJ4_iDQnFR0fzZ6VRnOG4Q/s320/IMG_9430.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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You can also add your most frequently used accounts under a favorites list for easy access.<br />
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These are the categories that are offered in the free version. Again, I have only used the login category. The credit card category allows you to enter all your credit card info such as number, expiration date and secure access code. I have this information stored under the login for that account. I find having it all in one place is convenient.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz72fTyyYG7K-494mHhEh6wgxBLyGyYBo8Aqpld0FWCIu9E4vn2IT8fnhgbHKTvmtVi53pjM8BufQlf-QgN-ioLZ4aJVI33LvU30USj7ovcJUAxtAFw7yJ6H4KshtOTY0BWyNQvp6wLQ/s1600/IMG_9432.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz72fTyyYG7K-494mHhEh6wgxBLyGyYBo8Aqpld0FWCIu9E4vn2IT8fnhgbHKTvmtVi53pjM8BufQlf-QgN-ioLZ4aJVI33LvU30USj7ovcJUAxtAFw7yJ6H4KshtOTY0BWyNQvp6wLQ/s320/IMG_9432.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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Here you will want to add the login name. So for example, if I was adding my Kohls information, I would enter "Kohls" in the login name. This is how is will appear in your list.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvtHAAWDQJswIHsIw6P79wUNrSVxT0mbfRSnefYWbySWj4ovb11Gz1uUvEuic66UMaPFs_QVXArv_6cw4mjLHLWpz7h3ogWhmteYZTOlD9OQL0I9v5f5DE_cXk4UdVg7IAyFcPo9phw/s1600/IMG_9433.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvtHAAWDQJswIHsIw6P79wUNrSVxT0mbfRSnefYWbySWj4ovb11Gz1uUvEuic66UMaPFs_QVXArv_6cw4mjLHLWpz7h3ogWhmteYZTOlD9OQL0I9v5f5DE_cXk4UdVg7IAyFcPo9phw/s320/IMG_9433.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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Once you hit next, you will be prompted to enter your username or email for the account.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqH0W0UELpiHkq0k_WD7JLZu4Sr7e6f54JL34y_IpoaQPWHo1sH5YYPlmpZ_Mtm4U6i40njeFIN_-PIyV4N0AhH7LBt0dNhEYhyphenhyphenlLJmKKbiWNYQDSLMQH4NTUKFQGNlwu8SXsZs5YZAQ/s1600/IMG_9434.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqH0W0UELpiHkq0k_WD7JLZu4Sr7e6f54JL34y_IpoaQPWHo1sH5YYPlmpZ_Mtm4U6i40njeFIN_-PIyV4N0AhH7LBt0dNhEYhyphenhyphenlLJmKKbiWNYQDSLMQH4NTUKFQGNlwu8SXsZs5YZAQ/s320/IMG_9434.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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Hit next again and it will ask you to enter the password for that account. You have 2 options here, you can enter a password that you have already established,<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB1IK_WIQoGHlgELlIZd2pVwh22KfWVYzmRjZTZNvjnnGDDVja_07y6pKGiAS9YuWJJL6-kvbwnHalyF1aed_M06IRHZsVLkLpyjK7clEZnZX9d-mzEDgpfENlbT92lhqPXY4I0Q3fUg/s1600/IMG_9435.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB1IK_WIQoGHlgELlIZd2pVwh22KfWVYzmRjZTZNvjnnGDDVja_07y6pKGiAS9YuWJJL6-kvbwnHalyF1aed_M06IRHZsVLkLpyjK7clEZnZX9d-mzEDgpfENlbT92lhqPXY4I0Q3fUg/s320/IMG_9435.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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or you can ask 1password to auto generate a random password for you. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzke7LqSRYIl-x6nnqiLuJWmFYAbw9Q4tNRTqlS4tIo7KRF37slSIoJh9TUOL5LAsnZX4RSoiWx5_rvmX0JbQWhcnvbBVyMxafVo05UfzII0f-asz_GcuYKMhMJxEVG2SvL_HHxxp_Hg/s1600/IMG_9437.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzke7LqSRYIl-x6nnqiLuJWmFYAbw9Q4tNRTqlS4tIo7KRF37slSIoJh9TUOL5LAsnZX4RSoiWx5_rvmX0JbQWhcnvbBVyMxafVo05UfzII0f-asz_GcuYKMhMJxEVG2SvL_HHxxp_Hg/s320/IMG_9437.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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Now, enter the web address for the site. This is a very helpful feature of this app. If you need to access your account, simply click on the web address and 1password will automatically populate the login and password based on the information you have entered. So, even if you select a random password, you won't have to worry about remembering it. If you login from a computer and need your password, simply click on the password and hit "reveal". It will show you your password.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3F10L77GMBq4N9hIPz6QsLnfFpYBEGQgmKaNE2Czd-dakGRM6m6HSRC9c3l46Uhm9EaZdoU3o7k2_dpQ4YicWqx9vcg8hc82Zd8K8ZCMZLjmyH5lePp9GoyhCb28G9DD3crd3IyXbYA/s1600/IMG_9438.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3F10L77GMBq4N9hIPz6QsLnfFpYBEGQgmKaNE2Czd-dakGRM6m6HSRC9c3l46Uhm9EaZdoU3o7k2_dpQ4YicWqx9vcg8hc82Zd8K8ZCMZLjmyH5lePp9GoyhCb28G9DD3crd3IyXbYA/s320/IMG_9438.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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Once you are done entering login information and save, you can go into the edit field and add notes. I use my notes section to enter any information that i may need at my finger tips, like credit card number, expiration date, or CV code. I've also added account numbers.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lV0PNW7rr-TDiLMqFywm_qai9ame2ig7O8gdPirWFiQHJVoXsEMwxPDQVCFk5J7pWYPnhRAddG9e1drXb8apTyHdq2AGa0opfcyRU-ZLoJziBgiaSSbZ7gjoOxP3l2M5XR01DmL1Cg/s1600/IMG_9439.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lV0PNW7rr-TDiLMqFywm_qai9ame2ig7O8gdPirWFiQHJVoXsEMwxPDQVCFk5J7pWYPnhRAddG9e1drXb8apTyHdq2AGa0opfcyRU-ZLoJziBgiaSSbZ7gjoOxP3l2M5XR01DmL1Cg/s320/IMG_9439.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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Another really great feature of 1password is the ability to share account information. So, if you have an account, like a credit card that you share with someone, you both will have the information stored in the 1password app.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzuX9JjxIYjIotI3MAdl9qnsK2I-HWcEq36nPeFuvMLT6RLi2IvWE8kkQa7f7mHmgkxGMPL9VpdYjoSZKJUzeuQVIP4QVxodn88wwv2MpL0MhrlP-AEI3rxA53fm3oEGIHSwbN4J27w/s1600/IMG_9440.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzuX9JjxIYjIotI3MAdl9qnsK2I-HWcEq36nPeFuvMLT6RLi2IvWE8kkQa7f7mHmgkxGMPL9VpdYjoSZKJUzeuQVIP4QVxodn88wwv2MpL0MhrlP-AEI3rxA53fm3oEGIHSwbN4J27w/s320/IMG_9440.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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The app syncs across all of your devices, but only when it is connected to your home network, another great security feature. </div>
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I would definitely recommend this app to anyone that has just too many logins and passwords to remember. I find having all of my information readily available makes for a seamless workflow. </div>
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Do you have any apps that help you run your life that you just can't live without?</div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-51065899995154847682015-05-18T11:49:00.001-04:002015-05-18T11:49:55.869-04:00Mom-ents: Would You Sell Your Wedding Dress?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My Mom and I were recently talking about things that were stored at her house and how if needed, where she could downsize. I don't have much left there, but what I do have left there is my wedding dress. It's stored in the closet in my childhood bedroom. I never brought it to our home because well, in an apartment with 2 kids, storage space is highly sought after real estate and there is little room for things that don't serve a functional purpose. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ZnnntCDo7A2Av6EQgvDY1D9WLvLW8q5ZN2_BzPSdwKot7u1vgpU6UJ45SkjmCB63H3pLZFW4_dF1JywR6WaqU_GQsJ0bZWtHA1YX_icu0RXaw3n1UHwOvr8tf1CAG2-7JvrCc11v_g/s1600/0266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ZnnntCDo7A2Av6EQgvDY1D9WLvLW8q5ZN2_BzPSdwKot7u1vgpU6UJ45SkjmCB63H3pLZFW4_dF1JywR6WaqU_GQsJ0bZWtHA1YX_icu0RXaw3n1UHwOvr8tf1CAG2-7JvrCc11v_g/s320/0266.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dress hung from a ceiling fan...LOL</td></tr>
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When I saw my dress, I just knew that it was the ONE. It was the dress that I would marry my husband in. The beginning of our "forever". It was right off the rack, but it was perfect. It fit just right in all the right places, it was elegant and simple. It had just enough bling to sparkle. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBluMtRqMI-S_FUG2CavKPJQ3HA0fYMFxV5jpbAGNnqSc6cPfh1HQ0_c_3mu5o1RKIdktXorc4b2uuxK6DrCKfDCufFJbwDQfFdupDmqDt18QMomf7DNI7vWAr2zzHHwrS7-fkR6lig/s1600/SCAN0392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBluMtRqMI-S_FUG2CavKPJQ3HA0fYMFxV5jpbAGNnqSc6cPfh1HQ0_c_3mu5o1RKIdktXorc4b2uuxK6DrCKfDCufFJbwDQfFdupDmqDt18QMomf7DNI7vWAr2zzHHwrS7-fkR6lig/s320/SCAN0392.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My parent's wedding day</td></tr>
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However, my mother's dress holds so much more sentimental value. My grandmother had the gift of being able to do wonderful things with fabric and a sewing machine. She used that gift and made my mother's wedding dress. Mom always thought that maybe someday her daughter would wear it. And while it is a beautiful dress, it wasn't my style. Then she thought, well maybe it can be made into a granddaughter's Christening gown. She has 4 grandsons. So, what does she do with it now? Hold on to it, sell it, create something new?</div>
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Then I saw an article posted my The Huffington Post, originally from Buzzfeed, were <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/05/11/daughters-try-on-moms-wedding-dress_n_7259778.html" target="_blank">daughter's try on their mom's wedding dress</a> and do a photo shoot. I thought that was a pretty awesome idea! Create a new memory from an old one. What do you think, Mom? Could be fun!</div>
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I started thinking about what I wanted to do with my wedding dress. I always just thought that I would store it way for the rest of my life and someday when I was old and grey, make that choice. I also used to be a pack rat. LOL. </div>
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Did I want to continue to store it in the hopes that I would have a granddaughter someday? Chances are it would be out of style anyway. Did I want to sell it or donate it? Did I want to create something more functional? Or maybe create a new dress for a 10 year vow renewal...Hmmm, that sounds interesting.</div>
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So, I am curious to know, what did you do or plan to do with your wedding dress?</div>
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No wedding dresses were harmed in the making of this blog post. Both dresses remain perfectly preserved and stored. </div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-31759924748420358152015-05-16T06:42:00.001-04:002015-05-16T06:42:48.263-04:00Dear Dad: One Year Later<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Dear Dad, </span><br />
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It's hard to believe that you've been gone a year already. Most days, I still can't believe it. Never in a million years did I think that we'd have to say goodbye to you so soon. To me, you were the man who could never die. There was nothing that you couldn't make it through. I never considered that someday, you wouldn't be here. </div>
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That day haunts me. At the time, it went by in a complete blur. But as the year has gone on, little things come back when I least expect them to, like when I drive past the hospital or hear a beep that sounds like one of the machines. I remember staring at the flat line hoping for even the slightest movement. But it never came. I remember telling everyone that I thought you were okay and then had no idea how I was going to tell them you were gone. I don't even know how or when everyone got there, but it seemed like I turned around and there they were. I see you laying there, lifeless. The man that I called Dad for 34 years, was gone, just like that. No chance to say goodbye, no chance to tell you everything that I would have wanted you to know. </div>
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I hope that in your final moments you knew how loved you were, not just by us, but by everyone who ever knew you. We hated you being gone so much, but we knew everything you did, you did for us; to give us the life you thought we deserved. The lessons you taught me are ones that have molded who I am. When I do something around the house, I'm proud to say I know how to do this because "I'm Wally's daughter". Whether I was right or wrong, you always supported my decision. You let me learn, but we're always there to help me get back on my feet. You might throw in a sly, "I told ya so", but always with the best intentions. If we called you and needed you, you were there. If you could help someone, you did. You were the best. </div>
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Losing you has left a Dad-shaped hole is my heart. Mom is the glue that holds us together, but you were our rock. No matter what job needed to be done or what advice we might need, you always seemed to have the right tool or the right answer. You were everyone's go-to guy. </div>
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I know you are always near. And when I get that gut feeling that something just isn't right or I should make a certain choice, that's when I feel your guidance. I know it sounds silly. But I'm half of you, we'll always have a connection. I don't take those feelings lightly, I know it's you helping me through life. Then there's those times that your song pops up on my iPod, or I smell your cologne. Or when Ryan looks at your picture and smiles. I know he knows you, I don't know how, but he does. In some ways, that little boy is so much like you. When he's concentrating he puckers his lips and scrunched his eye brows, just like you did. He even has your weird toe. How I wish you were here to meet him. You would have gotten a kick out of him. You were so proud to have 4 grandsons. And they were so unbelievably lucky to have you. I know you helped make sure Ryan was okay. </div>
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Brandon talks about you a lot. Sometimes I cry and he says to me, "don't cry mom, he's always with us". He's wise beyond his years. He's growing up so fast. I'm so happy he got almost 5 years with you and I hope he always remembers you. I'll never forget how proud you were the first time you held him. And the first time we came to the boat, you paraded him all over the marina. </div>
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Nothing is quite the same anymore. There are times when I have gone to pick up the phone to call you or I'll say, "Dad would like this". I still watch the planes fly over and wonder if that one is yours. </div>
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Time is now measured in "before Dad"and "after Dad" and nothing will be like before again. </div>
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I miss you so very much. Thank you for always loving me and teaching me the things I'd need to learn through life, you just never taught me how to do this without you. </div>
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I love you, Dad. Until we meet again...</div>
Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-30128984159932659822015-05-14T11:08:00.003-04:002015-05-14T11:08:55.743-04:00My Fitness Journey: 30 Days of Challenges - Week 1<b><u>End of Week One</u></b><div>
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These challenges have been working out really great and I am pleasantly surprised. They are proving to be challenging enough for a beginner, but not too intense where I can't pick up the baby or bring groceries up the stairs. </div>
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For a little more of a challenge, though, I upped the weights to 8 pounds and added in 3 pound ankle weights and sneaking in exercise where ever I can like walking/running and calf raises while I wait for Brandon's bus. Eating healthier and making smarter food and portion choices are also a huge part of whether these challenges succeed or not. </div>
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What I really like about these different challenges is that if I need to split them up throughout the day, I can. Somedays, I get my leg challenge in before the kids are up and then finish the other 2 during the baby's nap. </div>
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<b><u>The Results</u></b></div>
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I honestly didn't expect to see much of a difference in the first week, but numbers don't lie. </div>
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Pounds lost: 4</div>
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Inches lost:</div>
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Arm: .5</div>
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Thigh: .5</div>
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Waist: 1</div>
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Hips: .75</div>
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Seeing a slight change in such a short amount is definitely motivating to push a little harder for week 2!</div>
Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-31165921081405856402015-05-11T21:26:00.002-04:002015-05-11T21:26:41.744-04:00Recipe: Fresh Homemade Tomato Sauce<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Now that I am a stay-at-home mom, I have made a commitment to myself and my family to remove some of the processed and convenience foods we eat. Most of our meals are homemade, but I wanted to make them with healthier ingredients. Getting a picky family on board can be a challenge in itself, so I wanted to get them as excited for eating it as I was preparing it. I have already gotten Brandon to eat homemade chicken nuggets (I make a huge batch and freeze) and "real" mac and cheese (elbows and grated cheddar jack cheese). He now asks for these instead of the pre-made kind. </div>
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I always had dreams of having my own garden and growing the fruits and veggies my family enjoyed. I wanted to grow tomatoes and can them for the long winter months. Someday, I may be able to do that, but in an apartment setting, it's pretty difficult. So for now, I will have to settle for fruits and veggies from my local farmers market. </div>
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Italians love their pasta and gravy and my family is no exception. At least one meal a week, usually Sunday, consists of pasta and gravy, yes, it's gravy. With tummy troubles in the family, I was inspired to make this meal lighter so we could all enjoy it and not feel awful after. </div>
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My husband and son loved it! I paired it with some veggie pasta. It was boxed pasta, but one step at a time. Lol.</div>
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<b><u>What You'll Need:</u></b></div>
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Extra virgin olive oil</div>
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3-4 garlic cloves</div>
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1 small onion</div>
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3 beef steak tomatoes</div>
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5-6 basil leaves</div>
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Salt and pepper</div>
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Oregano</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyMjHg1jMfKHcHccNM_8SsZOI09Yehn7og8cpqRT24AAUYiFaaBoa9FMglMmEqjgO4ydt2H4-Io8bgr9VPZOYN1O278dlYf2DVUXB4UY0xcYqkCoSm3skAIAiM9YgTj6VsYbxBELv5w/s1600/IMG_8801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyMjHg1jMfKHcHccNM_8SsZOI09Yehn7og8cpqRT24AAUYiFaaBoa9FMglMmEqjgO4ydt2H4-Io8bgr9VPZOYN1O278dlYf2DVUXB4UY0xcYqkCoSm3skAIAiM9YgTj6VsYbxBELv5w/s320/IMG_8801.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Sauté garlic in extra virgin olive oil until fragrant</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmN3JH7HCkc0YwvJ0PRjZP9Yucp4XPV0FYxQnOHB82k39L6vd8zPgqAzT4M12W-TkbUMWlXzcA_IF_Cwb2OGR2E_Af0O5rbMQSGzHDSv-5MoeidFA5QZ0NIPoERoT4kdGAdlbekMwV9A/s1600/IMG_8802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmN3JH7HCkc0YwvJ0PRjZP9Yucp4XPV0FYxQnOHB82k39L6vd8zPgqAzT4M12W-TkbUMWlXzcA_IF_Cwb2OGR2E_Af0O5rbMQSGzHDSv-5MoeidFA5QZ0NIPoERoT4kdGAdlbekMwV9A/s320/IMG_8802.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Add chopped onion and sauté until onions are soft</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfxm9FCa6vqqM9EKuiIIp18O9yMJvGtTkJwkNtTOWi6YzMotU1gecr62OCwGQoGMeWAxhYWNRod78tSYqw8UNpYLaA03KWTaVoZzLux-B1-jtUtXDe3aPU3XQJMiNrb22ejyWP_KXAA/s1600/IMG_8803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfxm9FCa6vqqM9EKuiIIp18O9yMJvGtTkJwkNtTOWi6YzMotU1gecr62OCwGQoGMeWAxhYWNRod78tSYqw8UNpYLaA03KWTaVoZzLux-B1-jtUtXDe3aPU3XQJMiNrb22ejyWP_KXAA/s320/IMG_8803.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Grate tomatoes</div>
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I grate them until it becomes too difficult and I chop the rest.</div>
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Add spices and basil leaves. Simmer.</div>
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Add to your favorite pasta. </div>
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I use veggie pasta to sneak in a few extra servings of veggies. </div>
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<br />Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-40669846648896126362015-05-10T12:17:00.002-04:002015-05-10T12:17:24.862-04:00Happy Mother's Day!It wasn't until I became a mom, that I truly understood the work being a mom really was. My mom always made it look so easy. What I didn't know and didn't see were the endless hours she put in after my brother and I were sound asleep in our beds. I never gave much thought to how there were always clean towels or how the toilet paper never ran out. Beds were made and laundry cleaned and put neatly in drawers. Lunches were ready and the refrigerator and cabinets were always stocked with food. She made sure that Santa never let us down. The tooth fairy came and the Easter Bunny always hid our baskets.<br />
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She worried about our safety, our health, our happiness. She worried if she was doing a good enough job. She worried if we did well in school, if we had the right friends. She worried when it was 10 minutes past curfew and we weren't home.<br />
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She supported us, picked us up when we fell and loved us unconditionally. Even when I used dish soap in the dishwasher. Oops. But through all the work, worry and support, she was silently teaching me how to be the best possible mother I could be.<br />
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When I got married, I was blessed with a wonderful mother-in-law. Over the years she has been there as a mother and as a friend. She raised a wonderful man that I am proud to call my husband.<br />
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To my boys, you are my greatest accomplishments. I wouldn't be a Mommy without you. You came in to this world so tiny and fragile, but you are growing into amazing boys. There is no greater joy than watching you grow and learn. I promise to always love and protect you. Even when you are all grown, you will always be my babies. I love you with every ounce of my soul.Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-24644434814489606372015-05-07T08:00:00.000-04:002015-05-07T08:00:12.970-04:0030 Days of ChallengesWhile you are scrolling through your news feed, or getting lost in Pinterest or even cruising the internet, you are often presented with some sort of challenge. Some challenges are for the purpose of awareness, some for social change and some for physical or mental fitness.<br />
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Regardless of the reason behind the challenge, one thing it does is make you aware of WHY you are doing what you are doing. And depending on the challenge, it can force you out of your comfort zone or have you pushing yourself further than you thought you could. Not necessarily a bad thing.</div>
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Enter my 30 Days of Challenges. Some time ago, I had pinned some fitness challenges to my Pinterest <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/kellymorga/workouts/" target="_blank">"workout"</a> board. If you search challenges on Pinterest, so many come up and they are all different. Ab challenges, plank challenges, arms, squats, the list goes on. Each makes a similar claim, "30 days to slim thighs", "get your arms tank top ready in 30 days", "banish your belly in just 30 days". So, I picked 3 trouble spots and 3 challenges to target those trouble spots. </div>
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The big question is, do fitness challenges like these work? Well for the next 30 days, we are going to find out. I'm not relying on these challenges alone to see some miracle results. I'm also incorporating healthier eating, walking and fitting in fitness where ever I can. None of these challenges mention a specific eating plan. Hey, carrying groceries and a 20 pound baby up and down a flight of stairs isn't easy and has gotta count for something, right?<br />
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I was tossed between 2 separate leg workouts, each included 5 different exercises. I chose 3 exercises from one and 2 from the other. And chose the plan that appeared it would be more successful. The arm workout that I selected was only a 21 day arm challenge, but had the arm exercises I wanted, so I followed the progression pattern and extended it to 30 days. </div>
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Before beginning, I took all my measurements so I had something to base the results on other than the fact that my pre-pregnancy shorts finally fit again. I want numbers! </div>
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Even if there is no significant change, it will have at least encouraged me to exercise more than just huffing groceries and dodging baby walkers. </div>
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Day 22 - Rest</div>
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Day 23 - 16 reps each 3x</div>
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Day 24 - Rest</div>
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Day 25 - 16 reps each 3x</div>
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Day 26 - Rest </div>
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Day 27 - 18 reps each 3x</div>
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Day 28 - Rest </div>
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Day 29 - 18 reps each 3x</div>
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Day 30 - 9 reps each 3x </div>
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I've always battled my weight, frequently gaining and losing. But I have never been at a weight or fitness level that I could say I was 100% satisfied. So, now that we are done having kids, its time to focus on myself snd getting to where i want to be. It's time to feel comfortable in my skin and happy with what I see in the mirror. </div>
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Obviously, if you are at a higher fitness level, these challenges may not be challenging enough. But if you are looking to try something new into your workout, there are so many out there and you will definitely find something. </div>
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So, I hope you will join me and take 30 days to do something just for you! </div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-55475101317258704092015-05-04T07:00:00.000-04:002015-05-04T07:01:52.796-04:00Welcome to the Relaunch<b>Welcome to the relaunch of Little Silly Life</b><br />
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It's hard to believe it's been almost a year since I've blogged. Life got in the way as it sometimes does and my focus was needed elsewhere. My husband has been presented with an awesome job opportunity that allows me to be home with our boys and finally make <i>Little Silly Life</i> everything I had always hoped it could be.For a long time, I really didn't know what that looked like. I just knew that there was something.<br />
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Losing my Dad, rocked me to the core. I grieved, every minute of every day. Everything I did was programmed. I did it because it's what I was supposed to do. I found little joy in anything. My husband and I no longer connected. I was disengaged from my kids. I ignored the things in my home that required attention. I was spiraling out of control and everything around me was coming with it.<br />
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I made a commitment to myself and my family that I was going to get back to me. Get back to the person my husband fell in love with, the mom that I always wanted to be for my kids and the woman I always envisioned myself being.<br />
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This is my journey.<br />
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I have been blessed with some wonderful woman in my life. Each has played a part in where my journey will take me as I have learned something from each of them; healthy, clean eating, fitness, clean living and so much more.<br />
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I hope that along the way, I can be as influential to someone else as these woman have been to me.<br />
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So, stick around and join the conversation! I promise it's going to be a lot of fun.<br />
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<br />Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-69425756913569523182014-06-26T12:34:00.002-04:002014-06-26T12:34:47.893-04:00Throwback Thursday - June 26, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInL6MzoE0A1cyRFDHTv1cU2YIVRXMdywusWXVzLXzcIa0D1xSu72BgojzKrYlFlmno2FjARBiT-KlldF8JLdFsJVxqLwQs49bPBYeupzUFdWld21-5P2BOQf-Yyce_zFs9TmFvdyfOw/s1600/IMG_4662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInL6MzoE0A1cyRFDHTv1cU2YIVRXMdywusWXVzLXzcIa0D1xSu72BgojzKrYlFlmno2FjARBiT-KlldF8JLdFsJVxqLwQs49bPBYeupzUFdWld21-5P2BOQf-Yyce_zFs9TmFvdyfOw/s1600/IMG_4662.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sometime in the 80's</div>
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Some of my greatest family memories have been at Long Beach Island, NJ. Every August, our family, and I mean entire family, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, the whole lot of us, would rent a huge multi-level family house there. </div>
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I remember those 2 weeks being so carefree, so fun. Not a care in the world except whether the waves would roll in and destroy your perfect sandcastle. </div>
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This picture was always one that was famous, in it's own respect, within the family. There I was, the little ham, posing on the hood of my Aunt Barbara's t-top Toyota Celica. </div>
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My Aunt Barbara, in particular, always loved this photo. She always said it was one of her favorite pictures of me. It's one of my favorite too. </div>
Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-36981902462387860652014-06-19T09:00:00.000-04:002014-06-19T09:00:04.656-04:00Throwback Thursday - June 19, 2009<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIE_Gv7GkPDd0LPvQA3HYHVBTByb3fsZJ-jozDmpi76oS1Fpk6RFRk7UzDBe1BX9w-fijisbYDWzp-BXyHtn_Uvwhsl7obQVuICn3bQCinadrWZw2vJneY_U5-LYnAOgUb-vDUjerMEg/s1600/6-18-2009+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIE_Gv7GkPDd0LPvQA3HYHVBTByb3fsZJ-jozDmpi76oS1Fpk6RFRk7UzDBe1BX9w-fijisbYDWzp-BXyHtn_Uvwhsl7obQVuICn3bQCinadrWZw2vJneY_U5-LYnAOgUb-vDUjerMEg/s1600/6-18-2009+2.jpg" height="320" width="236" /></a></div>
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Brandon 6-19-2009</div>
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Awe look at my little Brandon. This picture was 5 years ago today. It's hard to believe that this tiny little baby is the same rambunctious 5 year old that runs around my house. The same kid that is starting Kindergarten in September. </div>
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Even though I didn't plan on having another preemie baby, I saved the preemie clothes anyway. Back when Brandon was born, there was a very small selection of preemie clothes. Now it seems that everything comes in a preemie size. Those preemie clothes seemed to fit Brandon forever. And now they are all small on Ryan, even though Ryan is only slightly bigger that Brandon was at the time. </div>
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Which brings me to why I chose this picture. I often have a hard time remembering just how tiny Brandon was. I hold Ryan a think to myself, I don't remember Brandon being so small. But he was. The picture proves it. I don't know how I ever figured out how to care for something so tiny and fragile. </div>
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<br />Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-21514121345047350842014-06-17T09:00:00.000-04:002014-06-17T09:00:10.045-04:00A NICU Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXyVJYmLuf_vae0bJx84PdTRGGfBjEi1mfSLB2JfjcQwmldU-aOx1jWea5gUGi3lEE1_bL_N0F1sIeiB2AISCsLj8rzi9SqXqf5rUd7GrasE_9nnljQxQmX_VhjCRjywOfZKi6X2nEA/s1600/6-1-2009+First+Picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXyVJYmLuf_vae0bJx84PdTRGGfBjEi1mfSLB2JfjcQwmldU-aOx1jWea5gUGi3lEE1_bL_N0F1sIeiB2AISCsLj8rzi9SqXqf5rUd7GrasE_9nnljQxQmX_VhjCRjywOfZKi6X2nEA/s1600/6-1-2009+First+Picture.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1z09Vk7w7PIszoK_0IQWQI2yQDPZkffWEf0ySsnHl-PL02YfbU4gPG6AJzu15gvR4e4KbJ_sSOkHzOfCc7AQUvAO1MdLbryMvi8t52amEfHJlLr9eIFuG-gXqRLklaWPB61UEDYHvw/s1600/IMG_6536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1z09Vk7w7PIszoK_0IQWQI2yQDPZkffWEf0ySsnHl-PL02YfbU4gPG6AJzu15gvR4e4KbJ_sSOkHzOfCc7AQUvAO1MdLbryMvi8t52amEfHJlLr9eIFuG-gXqRLklaWPB61UEDYHvw/s1600/IMG_6536.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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As Moms, we've all been new. We've doubted our abilities as good moms. We rejoice in our baby's every milestone. We learn and we have personal victories and an equal amount of failures. We've all sat there and said, "I can't believe that's my baby. I made that".</div>
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But NICU moms are different. We have a camaraderie that I have seldom seen in non-NICU moms. We've gone to war and come back a different person. We swap stories proudly but can empathize with each other. I mean really, truly feel with them in that moment. </div>
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NICU moms never know the joys of lying our babies on our bare chest moments after birth. We'll never share a hospital room. We will never know what it's like to be wheeled out of the hospital while Daddy carries the infant car seat out the doors to begin your life as a family. </div>
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No. Our experience is much different than a non-NICU mom. And as I speak to other NICU moms, I learn we all have similar stories. Our bodies, the bodies that were created to conceive and grow new life, fails us. </div>
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We understand the enormity of milestones. While an ounce in weight gain may seem less than spectacular to a non-NICU mom, to us an ounce can make the difference in your baby moving one step closer to home or not. A 3ml increase in intake is always a huge deal. </div>
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NICU moms become accustomed to the dings, bings and beeps of the monitors. We know the ranges of heart rate, respiratory rate and oxygen saturation. We know what oxygen saturation is and why it's important. We become experts in our baby's medical treatment. </div>
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We change diapers amidst wires. We do this while changing our babies in what can only be described as a salad bar. Hoping and praying the wires don't land in the dirty diaper. </div>
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We know what it's like to have to ask to take your baby out of the isolette. To wait while some one else fixes your baby's bottle. To have someone watching your every move with your own baby. </div>
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We have gone through the emotional torture of leaving the hospital without that little bundle of joy. It's pretty weird, ya know. You walk into a hospital one day, and there's this little person growing inside you. A little person that only you know. You know his kicks, his rolls and even his sleep patterns. He knows what your heart beat sounds like. Then one day you have a baby and leave him behind. Not forever, but you are leaving your baby, in someone else's care. We've all experienced the stab in the gut walking into the nursery at home and staring at an empty crib, clothes that are waiting to be worn. </div>
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We often become over-protective. In our eyes, those little people living in our house, will always be those fragile little babies. </div>
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The NICU changes you. It changes the woman you are and the Mom you are destined to be. You learn how strong you are capable of being and you learn your breaking point. Do I wish that I would have had my dream birth experience? Of course! But I have learned to embrace my experience and appreciate the woman and mother that it has made me. </div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-59530072152625068582014-06-14T14:25:00.000-04:002014-06-14T14:25:08.191-04:00Just Like Riding a Bike...Right?Although yesterday was Friday the 13th, a full moon AND the weather was crap, it was a great day. Our newest little addition to the family was coming home. He spent 17 days in the NICU. Was that all it really was? Hmmm, seemed longer. <div>
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After Ryan was born, I found that I was constantly doubting myself and my abilities to once again care for someone so tiny. It's been 5 years!! I was constantly told, "it's like riding a bike, it all comes back to you". But would it really? I spent that 17 days only getting to feed him twice a day. I got told when to check his temperature and change his diaper. Reporting on the contents of his diaper and changing his shirt. I had to work around wires and when I held him, he was still connected to those wires. </div>
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I thought I knew what to expect, after all I had done this before. Sleep him on his back, no loose bedding, toys or stuffed animals in the crib. Always leave them secure in the carseat while the car is in motion, duh. Swaddle with his arms out. Wait...now it's arms out? What else was I forgetting, what else had they changed. </div>
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Once our discharge was complete, we were on our way. No more of some one else's rules, no more monitors and no more wires. PANIC! Those wires were my security, they let me know that he was okay. As the nurse peeled the leads off, well, let's just say, I was on the verge of tears. But again, it was just like riding a bike, right?</div>
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Ryan's First Car Ride</div>
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In the hospital, I rarely heard him cry. He was always sleeping so soundly. Alright, maybe this wasn't so bad. Then we came home and I was on my own. ON. MY. OWN. I thought I knew what I was doing, until I changed his first diaper in the middle of the night. I had to heat the bottle while he was crying, get the cloth ready to clean him, vaseline on the gauze, change his clothes. He was squirmy, so so squirmy and it was pretty dark. I tried to keep Ryan calm and quiet. I kept telling him that it was our first night and we would get it, we'd understand each other. Then we woke the whole house up. Brandon started calling for me, my husband woke up to console him. Cause I, of course, can't be in 2 places at once. Another thought that never crossed my mind, what happens when they both need me at the exact same time?</div>
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I woke up this morning exhausted. If I slept 2 hours combined, well, I'm giving myself a lot of credit. I kept looking into his bassinet making sure he was okay. I was cleaning spit-up from his mouth and clothes. I felt just a little defeated. </div>
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Then we went through another feeding this morning and it was better. It was just like the hospital...calm, peaceful, controlled. Then another feeding, less crying going through the changing process. And I felt better in control. </div>
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Would I agree that it is just like riding a bike? Probably not. Let's face it, the last time I hopped on this bike, the ride was missing passengers and the bike was much younger. But I do think things come back to you. You get comfortable again being a mom and having more people to care for. Would I trade it, nope, but I have learned the cliche phrase to NEVER tell my friends having baby #2. Cause the second time isn't anything like the first. </div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-77491252065109178982014-06-12T09:56:00.000-04:002014-06-12T09:56:23.004-04:00Throwback Thursday - June 12, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dad's 57th birthday dinner at Benihana</div>
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Although this picture isn't too much of a throwback, it only dates back to October 2013, it has become a picture that I hold very close to my heart.<br />
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Dad discovered Benihana many many years ago when he was working in Detroit, Michigan. Every year for his birthday, the only thing he wanted was to have dinner at Benihana and we all looked forward to it every year; the food was good and we had a great time together. And each year we took another family photo. We would joke how each year the family grew and soon, we would take up more than one table.<br />
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This is the last family photo we ever took. And ironically, we came to realize that it is the only photo of our entire family; all 4 grandsons included. In this photo, my sister-in-law was pregnant with their second child, and this was taken 2 weeks before we found out we were pregnant with our second. So, it is the only photo we will ever have of the entire family.<br />
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Looking at these pictures is sometimes hard. We were all so happy, we were all together. We were all smiling. But I am happy that we were able to capture these memories to look back on and remember the wonderful times that we have had and how wonderful of a man my dad was.<br />
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I miss him every minute of every day, but I know that he will always be here to watch over us, protect us and guide us, just like he always did. In like, he did everything he did for us and I know he will do that in death as well.<br />
<br />Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-63690078170322274132014-06-05T17:09:00.000-04:002014-06-05T21:19:43.134-04:00Throwback Thursday - June, 5, 2014To sit and write a post this week for Throwback Thursday is a tough one. So much has happened since my last post. It is nearly impossible to decide exactly what to write about, so this week is a throwback for the last couple of weeks.<br />
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On May 13th, I went in for a growth scan. Basically, the sono tech measures pockets of amniotic fluid and takes measurements on the femur, stomach and head to assess how well the baby is growing. After the tech took the baby's stats, she determined that we was a little on the small side, weighting in around 2 pounds 14 ounces. This sent me on a trip down to the perinatologist for a doppler scan. The doppler scan measures the blood flow through the baby's organs, the placenta and the umbilical cord. Although the tech there measured him around 3 pounds, he was still small. He should have been measuring closer to 3 1/2 pounds. The reason for his growth restriction was that he wasn't receiving the nutrients he needed through the cord because it was restricted. The exact same problem I had with my first pregnancy. My OB and perinatologist decided I would have a scan to check the fluid and a Non-Stress Test every 3-4 days to monitor the baby's health. The test itself was stressful because I knew what they were looking for, I had been down this road before, almost exactly 5 years ago. They wanted to see if his heart rate went up or down during movement. Up is good, down is bad. I knew what a lowered heart rate meant and during each NST, I prayed I never heard a dip. Any day could be the day and it scared the shit out of me. I was only 31 weeks when they started to monitor me, I delivered my first son at 33 weeks and 1 day gestation. I was quickly approaching that mark. </div>
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<b>I Lost My Dad</b></div>
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On May 16, 2014, I got a call from my mom just after I dropped my son off at school. Dad wasn't breathing and they were taking him to the hospital. She was watching my nephews and was waiting for my brother or sister-in-law to get there. I told her I would head over to the hospital and call her when I knew anything. My cousin had spent the night at my parents house the night before. He heard my father fall and when the dog started howling, he rushed up from downstairs and called 911. I gave the hospital as much information I could while I waited for someone to tell me what was going on. A nurse came out to talk to me and my cousin. I knew it wasn't good that she walked out with a wheelchair for me. She brought us into another room where she explained that they were still working on him and she prepared me for what I was going to see. I tried to stay calm, after all, I was 32 weeks pregnant and put on the "premature birth watch list". She wheeled me into the room where the doctors were trying all they could to bring my dad back. I held his hand and asked him not to leave us, I told him that we needed him. I told him I still needed my daddy. I asked him, I begged him to come back to us. He was our rock and we still needed him. But nothing I said worked. After 29 minutes, the doctor informed me that they did all they could do, but he had been deprived of oxygen too long. They had to stop. I wanted to be one of those people that throw themselves on the table and screamed, to shake sense into the nurses and doctors to keep going, to start CPR myself. But I knew I couldn't. I knew he would never want to live that way. I knew what he could be like if he had been brought back. I couldn't argue. I remember hearing the doctor officially call it. 9:29am on May 16, 2014, my dad died. My life would change, my heart broke. The days that followed were a complete blur. They were filled with arrangements, gathering photos, making videos, ultrasounds and NST. Praying that any pregnancy problems would hold themselves off until at least after Dad's funeral. The NST the morning of the wake was particularly, um, stressful. And of course doing my best to stay calm and rest according to doctor's orders. </div>
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I was going through the motions, but just couldn't believe it was happening. Did I really just lose my dad? My dad died. Words I thought wouldn't have to leave my lips for 20 or more years. He still had so much more to do, another grandchild to see, the rest of his life to spend with his wife, kids and their families. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I never truly considered life without him, I just assumed he would always be there. I still wait for him to call and ask for a hair cut. The pain of losing a parent, is pain I have never felt before. It felt like someone put and oozy to my chest and pulled the trigger. There was a hole. A big huge hole. Little things make me cry; a song on the radio, seeing his truck in the driveway, his funeral card hanging on my dresser mirror. He was an amazing man and we are all going to miss him immensely. But he will remain in my heart forever. </div>
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<b>We Had a Baby!</b></div>
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On May 27, 2014, I went in for my ultrasound and NST. I should have known something was wrong, but I suppose I could have been in denial. The sono tech measured my fluid less that half of what it was a week prior. Not good news. The doctor said to repeat the ultrasound after my NST is complete. So, my mother-in-law and I headed down to the hospital. They hooked me up to the monitors like every other time. I still believed that everything was fine. Then I heard it. The heart rate dropped. In the blink of an eye, there were 3 nurses in my room. Now I started getting nervous. They hooked me up to IV fluids "just in case". My MIL called my husband and he was on his way. I laid there hoping this wasn't happening that day. It was Tuesday and Saturday was my son's big Star Wars 5th birthday party. After my OB called the perinatologist, they decided it was best that my OB delivered. It was happening, I was having a baby, 33 weeks and 3 days. Here we go again. I was nervous, I was scared. I was in shock. </div>
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My husband made it just in time. Thank goodness. I got prepped and wheeled into the OR as he was getting in his scrubs. Ugh, the epidural. I was much more calm going into this one. I guess cause I knew what to expect. I laid down in the table and watched the door waiting for my husband to walk through. I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I saw him. Although I could only see his eyes, I knew everything was going to be okay. He sat by my side and we talked. We talked normally like we were sitting having a cup; of coffee. Before I knew it, I heard my baby cry. And boy did he cry. It was the most amazing sound. They took him over to get vitals and clean him up. And still he cried. Then I saw him. That little itty bitty face sticking out from all the blankets he was swaddled in. I never thought I could love another baby as much as I love my first, but in that instant, my heart was bursting with love for both of my boys. My heart was full. My beautiful baby was here at just 3 pounds 5.9 ounces and 16 inches long. </div>
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May 27, 2014<br />
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My husband followed the baby while the doctors finished up and then I was wheeled to recovery. I laid there watching the clock. 1 hour in recovery and they would wheel me down to see my boy. They rolled me down in the bed to the Special Care Nursery. He was so tiny. So very tiny. My first was smaller by 2 ounces. But time will skew your memory. I got to hold him. He was so small, so fragile. I couldn't believe this was happening again. But, as with my first, he was healthy. </div>
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The last 9 days have been roller coaster. A busy roller coaster. Managing 2 kids in 2 different places, giving both attention, but knowing that Ryan needs his rest. I'd be there all day every day if I could. He needs to grow. He is doing well. As of last night he weighed in at 3 pounds 9.5 ounces. He is maintaining his temperature in the isolette and eating well. He's up to 32ml every 3 hours, which is just over an ounce. At 4 pounds they will transfer him to an open crib and see if he maintains his temperature for at least 48 hours. If he does, he will be on his way home! </div>
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June 5, 2014</div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-39938564436342606412014-05-08T10:31:00.002-04:002014-05-08T10:31:52.431-04:00Throwback Thursday - May 8, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Mom and I on my wedding day</div>
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I chose this picture of my mom and I for this week's Throwback Thursday because Mother's Day is this Sunday. This is also one of the very few pictures that I have of just me and my mom. I know she is probably going to hate this picture, she has changed so much since then, but in my eyes, that day she looked beautiful. She was so happy and proud that her little girl was getting married.</div>
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It was also the day that my relationship with my mom began to change and evolve into what it is today. I wouldn't say that we ever had a bad relationship, my relationship with both my parents was always pretty good. But growing up, I did give them some hard times, as I am sure most kids to during their teenage years. Heck, I know adults that still give their parents heart failure. </div>
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Our relationship changed in that I understood her more. I understood the things that she did to make her marriage work. I understood what it was to maintain a home, worry about finances. I understood her as a wife. It was on this day, that we became friends. </div>
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I don't know what I would ever do without my mom, although the sad reality is one day, I will. I call her to vent, to laugh, to cry, to know that their is someone on the other end that understands, not just because she is a woman too, but because she is my mom and I am part of her. </div>
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I know I can call her a million times and ask her how to make a hard boiled egg, something I just can't commit to memory and I know she will be there to tell me how. I could be looking all over the place for something very specific and if I tell her, sure as the sky is blue, she will be the one to find it. She comes up with solutions to problems that only a seasoned wife and mother could possibly think of and most times, they are positively genius. </div>
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Not only is she a fantastic mother, but she has morphed into the most amazing grandmother to all her grandkids. They are her life. They keep her going when sometimes she feels that the cards are stacked up against her and things aren't going right. They are just as lucky to have her as I am.</div>
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I just hope that my mother knows just how much she means to me and that I wish her the most wonderful of Mother's Days, this year and always. </div>
Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-50298914066102774342014-05-01T13:02:00.000-04:002014-05-01T13:02:36.962-04:00Throwback Thursday - May 1, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Me, Mom and Dad </div>
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This picture was either from the Fall of 1980 or the Spring of 1981. </div>
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My Mom and my Dad are 2 of the most amazing people that I know. They taught me many lessons throughout my life. At the time I don't think they knew that they were even teaching me. I also didn't fully understand these lessons until I became a parent myself. </div>
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My parents were married very young, just 19 and 22 years old. And no, it wasn't because of me, LOL. Just 3 years later, I was born and 3 years after that, my brother. They were in their late 20's and early 30's when they packed us up and moved us an hour away from family to our very own home. Back then, for some reason, an hour away seemed like an eternity. They did this to provide my brother and I with the life they felt we deserved. A home of our own, a yard to play in, our own bedrooms, a good school. </div>
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I've been told there were nights my parents went without so we could eat. They both worked hard to give us everything we needed and as much of what we wanted as they could. We were their world and every step and every breath they took was for us. </div>
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Now that I am a parent myself, I understand them more than I ever thought I would. I understand the long hours they put in beyond their jobs and long after we had gone to bed. I never understood how they seemed to get everything done. Now I do. </div>
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I understand now the desire to give your children the very best of everything and the frustration that comes with not always being able to deliver. </div>
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I understand the worry they felt when we got sick or hurt. And I'm sure one day I will pace the floor worried when my babies haven't come home yet. I will understand that their worry was projected as anger and that's why they yelled. </div>
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I understand why I was given the freedoms to choose my own path, even when they thought it was wrong and I am grateful for all the times I fell and they were there to pick me back up again. I'm also thankful to have them there to celebrate with me when things went right. </div>
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And now that I am married and have my own children, I think they understand me better too. They are finally able to see what all their hard work has done and the adults that those little babies have turned out to be. </div>
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I will never be able to fully express how grateful I am for my parents and everything they have done for me, everything they have taught me and everything that they sacrificed the last 34 years of my life. All I can hope is that I have made them proud and I have lived up to all the hopes and dreams they had for me from the very first time they laid eyes on me. </div>
Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-5241400630394616292014-04-24T13:40:00.000-04:002014-04-24T13:42:23.632-04:00Throwback Thursday - April 24, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Aunt Marji and I at the Mousetrap Bar (no idea who the creepy guy in the background is). </div>
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This weeks Throwback Thursday is dedicated to my godmother, Aunt Marji. We lost her just 2 short weeks ago. </div>
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I always admired my Aunt. She was so strong. In her early 20's, she had a kidney transplant, she was born with only one kidney. Doctors at one point told her that she would never have kids. She went on to have 2 beautiful children, one who literally became a rocket scientist and the other a teacher. That first kidney lasted for many years, until she once again began the process of regular dialysis until another kidney was available for her. </div>
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In 2012, our prayers were answered and she got the call that a match had been found. However, our joy was short lived when in June of 2013, she found out that she had ovarian cancer. The same cancer that took her mother's life (my grandmother) in 1996. With advancements in cancer treatments, we were always hopeful that she would beat this thing. She endured round after round of chemo, all the while hoping her new kidney would withstand the stress. After the cancer had shrunk enough, the doctors performed a hysterectomy and again we were hopeful this was all over. But the cancer had made its way to other places. Attacking other organs in her body. She lost weight, a lot of weight. She lost her hair. But she never lost her spirit. </div>
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Unfortunately, the cancer won and she passed peacefully surrounded by her family. </div>
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She fought hard. She endured more than anyone that I have ever known, but she always smiled. On the surface, she had a "thems the breaks" type of attitude. Just like my grandmother did. </div>
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I always felt a kinship with my aunt. Although I didn't go through anywhere near what she did, we both had c sections. Both our first born were preemie, although hers a few weeks sooner than mine. Whenever I was concerned about Brandon, I thought of her son, who was born at 28 weeks, he is the rocket scientist.<br />
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And as with my grandmother, I never understood how someone could face so much uncertainty and endure so much and still stay positive and be grateful for the things that they do have. However, it's people like my aunt and my grandmother that have taught me no mater what, there is always something to be thankful for, even when the situation seems hard and bleak.<br />
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I love my aunt dearly and will always miss her. But I know she is no longer living in pain and she is at peace. </div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-28568749054656179342014-04-17T17:04:00.000-04:002014-04-17T17:04:05.038-04:00Throwback Thursday - April 17, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYR-45zOwjO5yg10jqQ0KEEtDVecW-WqIGTVgzlgWCftR0RMHKUBFgeKzV3Zzna6o2J9mk2oE3y-lb-nEw5zqjrC2Rt-oejj2UHTAr04j9GdYiL1Jtjr-pKuA0tSIYJYR2y1uYbkaWQ/s1600/SCAN0290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYR-45zOwjO5yg10jqQ0KEEtDVecW-WqIGTVgzlgWCftR0RMHKUBFgeKzV3Zzna6o2J9mk2oE3y-lb-nEw5zqjrC2Rt-oejj2UHTAr04j9GdYiL1Jtjr-pKuA0tSIYJYR2y1uYbkaWQ/s1600/SCAN0290.JPG" height="237" width="320" /></a></div>
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Our Wedding Day - April 19,. 2008</div>
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This Saturday, Chris and I will celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary. So much has changed in our life since we said "I do". We've moved to a 2 bedroom apartment, we had a beautiful little boy that has brought more joy to our lives than we could have ever imagined possible. We've got different vehicles, we've got more debt. We've even changed jobs a few times. We've loved, we've lost. We've fought, we've made up. We've tried and given up. We've succeeded and we've failed. We have a new little boy on the way. </div>
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But through it all, we have loved each other. We have made it through things that would otherwise tear people apart. When others thought that there was no way that we could ever possibly make it, we did. When the cards were dealt against us, we always managed to come out on top. </div>
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We are polar opposites, but we are exactly the same. He is the other shoe that makes my perfect pair. When I fall, he picks me back up. When he falls, I laugh. LOL, no just kidding. Okay, maybe only partly kidding. Humor is something that is never lacking in our lives. We laugh at ourselves, we laugh at each other. But we are always laughing together. </div>
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We live a simple life. When we were dating we used to always dream about the huge house we would have and the fancy cars we would drive. But as we have moved through life together, we have come to realize that those things aren't the things that make a marriage. Having dinner together after a long day, even if it is pasta for a second night in a row. Sitting on the couch watching our favorite shows, even if we don't say a word. Snuggling at night while laying in bed and him waiting for me to fall asleep before he rolls over to face the other way. A simple text message to say "hi, how's your day". A hug when nothing is going right. A pep talk when you feel at your lowest. Knowing that no matter what you do, there will always be someone in your corner. Having someone to come home to, a home that no matter how small or messy at times, is ours that we have built together. Having someone to tell you you're right or wrong. Honestly. </div>
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The last 6 years have been some of the most rewarding and challenging times of my life. But I wouldn't trade them for the world because I know I am going through them with my best friend. </div>
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Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-77386498535414222332014-04-10T12:41:00.003-04:002014-04-10T12:41:46.655-04:00Throwback Thursday - April 10, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwPfli3FJmd4AITom3GNFPjjnqGMcesr4jeosHyHJpcCsuOXuGXZsIcq3Zx5-zUOLbtyWQ_W6t-aJLvROSVU4nb6KbxKwJnQABWFw5IzlRGBY0X3fMpJLv0YTiR1GEzbXtEhFhdB3tnA/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwPfli3FJmd4AITom3GNFPjjnqGMcesr4jeosHyHJpcCsuOXuGXZsIcq3Zx5-zUOLbtyWQ_W6t-aJLvROSVU4nb6KbxKwJnQABWFw5IzlRGBY0X3fMpJLv0YTiR1GEzbXtEhFhdB3tnA/s1600/photo.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Painting my closet</div>
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Happy Throwback Thursday! </div>
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This is a picture of me from around 1984 or 1985 when I was probably about 4 or 5 years old, the same age my own son is now. Can you tell by the outfit? </div>
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We had just moved into our new house at the time, and I wanted to help paint the closet in the room that my brother and I shared for a few years. We had a pretty cool room. It was small but complete with bunk beds. I, of course, being the oldest, got the top bunk. We had a small toy box in there too and even a record player, yes, record player. LOL.</div>
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I still have those same crazy curls! But thankfully not the same clothes. </div>
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<br />Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-442933933336959384.post-5012452993249766152014-04-03T14:32:00.000-04:002014-04-03T14:32:57.194-04:00Throwback Thursday - April 3, 2014It wasn't until recently, and by recently I mean like last Thursday, that I jumped on the Throwback Thursday (#TBT) bandwagon on Facebook. I enjoy seeing all the gems that others post, tagging people that they have reconnected with from their past or others that they have remained friends with all along.<br />
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I honestly didn't even go into today thinking about what picture I might post. But as I sat at my dining room table going through mementoes from when my son was born nearly 5 years ago, I came across a picture that when it was taken, I didn't realize that one day, I'd treasure it so much.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-w8Fb5y3ASWVQLU-yl3hswtQ8uc0qlzbK7ilVyRYyYlmHHkk16ShA4XdHFGcM7THfjOA59IW9NWuNwuZ-Bc13-Rf68RrwEAK57W_VuVjuk7INEZYzLv0B-nOK3ROVivbtYtE_UZF2A/s1600/IMG_6226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-w8Fb5y3ASWVQLU-yl3hswtQ8uc0qlzbK7ilVyRYyYlmHHkk16ShA4XdHFGcM7THfjOA59IW9NWuNwuZ-Bc13-Rf68RrwEAK57W_VuVjuk7INEZYzLv0B-nOK3ROVivbtYtE_UZF2A/s1600/IMG_6226.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Aunt Barbara and Brandon<br />
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This is my dear Aunt Barbara meeting her great nephew for the first time. She passed away last August and the void that has left in all of us in indescribable.<br />
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But on this particular day, she was so excited to see him and hold him. Her and my Uncle never did have kids of their own, but all their nieces and nephews were like their own. She loved us like a mother would and was so immensely proud of everything that we did. She bragged about us to her friends and co-workers, called for every birthday. She celebrated all the special moments in all our lives. She was one of the most thoughtful and kind people I have had the honor of knowing. <br />
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I remember on that day that we couldn't get down to the nursery fast enough for her. She was so excited she was practically shaking. She took a bunch of pictures that day and put them into a little album for me.<br />
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The beach was always her favorite place to be and she was thrilled that my room had a beach view. So thrilled that one of those pictures is a view of the beach from my hospital room window.<br />
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This picture and the album she made me are something that I will always treasure. I miss her dearly, but I know that she is with all of us, always.Kelly Morgahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15854218425351254077noreply@blogger.com0