<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477</id><updated>2012-01-21T09:53:32.850-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sublett Craziness</title><subtitle type='html'>...thoughts and feelings about being a woman, wife, mother, friend and teacher...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>46</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-1368765396767183020</id><published>2012-01-21T09:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T09:53:19.239-05:00</updated><title type='text'>relinquish</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;I have always been an only child. I had no sibling rivalry. I shared with no one. I stood alone, fought my own battles, carried my own weight, trusted VERY few, had my own thoughts and opinions that were rarely changed....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think is why I struggle with faith... to be able to trust God for things that seems to be out of my control. I know &lt;em&gt;in my head&lt;/em&gt; that the Bible is right. I know that He can take care of things, work everything out, keep me safe, protect my children, provide for our family....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but &lt;em&gt;in my heart&lt;/em&gt; - I still struggle&amp;nbsp;with wanting&amp;nbsp;to take over and do it myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not need a "&lt;strong&gt;co-pilot&lt;/strong&gt;". I need to get into the baggage section of the plane and relinquish control completely... see, down in the baggage section, I would not even have windows... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not relinquish very well....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; trying&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-1368765396767183020?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/1368765396767183020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/relinquish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1368765396767183020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1368765396767183020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/relinquish.html' title='relinquish'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-9043052393234204208</id><published>2012-01-21T09:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T09:45:46.898-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i know</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know you are a nice kid&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know you are only 13&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know that you have hopes and dreams and plans&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know that you make good choices and hard choices&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know that you go to church and seem to be a good Christian boy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know that you are a kid and this will probably be a short-lived romance&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but, today you are taking my daughter out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;so be careful&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;or&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I know you will be a &lt;strong&gt;dead&lt;/strong&gt; kid&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-9043052393234204208?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/9043052393234204208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/9043052393234204208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/9043052393234204208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-know.html' title='i know'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-3263240588346181963</id><published>2012-01-19T17:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T17:24:59.141-05:00</updated><title type='text'>finally</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my daughter is compassionate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my daughter is sympathetic. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my daughter is over dramatic. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my daughter has a strong desire to be liked and accepted by everybody. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my daughter desperately cares about what everyone thinks about her, her clothing, her hair, her everything...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;she could not possibly be my kid&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;if she did not look exactly like my husband and myself, I would swear that she was &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;not biologically mine...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;over the years, Jess has had kids take advantage of her. she is always the kid offering to bring all of the supplies for all group projects. she takes on more than her share of the projects. she is talked down to or made fun of, and yet quickly forgives and remains "friends" with the brat...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;on Friday, Jess had an incident with a girl who has been a brat many times before. their friendship has been a rocky roller coaster at best. on Friday, the girl told Jess to do something but Jess refused. the incident escalated to the girl &lt;em&gt;smacking &lt;/em&gt;Jess and calling her a baby... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;normally, this would end with Jess crying, me furious, and&amp;nbsp;Jess forgiving her within 24 hours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;HOWEVER&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;on Friday, Jess punched the girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was thrilled. I was proud. I was relieved.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jess has seen several girls around her change this year.&amp;nbsp;Girls who she has been friends with, have not been friendly. Girls who have been rude&amp;nbsp;for years, have started to grow up. I think the changes around her have caused Jess to step back and think about just who she wants to surround herself with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Now, understand, she will spend two days in ISS because she committed "physical aggression"... the girl also has two days (they will not serve time on the same days). I told the administrator that as an educator, I get it. I understand that they elevated their argument and have to be punished....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As a parent, I will not spend 30 seconds worrying about it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jess will not spend 30 seconds having any penalty here at home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Instead, I am encouraged that my daughter is learning to stand up for herself and choose friends a little more wisely....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;finally&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-3263240588346181963?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/3263240588346181963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/finally.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/3263240588346181963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/3263240588346181963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/finally.html' title='finally'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-4046340323008678044</id><published>2012-01-17T18:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T19:07:24.335-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Customer Service</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I do not have a lot of money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am picky about where I will spend it... so, if I go into a store and the items they have are priced well, but the service is horrible - I will walk out with nothing. If a store has moderately priced items, but they bend over backwards and help me - I will walk out with a cart...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This past Saturday, due to advice from my beloved Tracey, I made an appointment at a store for my daughter.... yes, an appointment. We arrived right on time, and her salesgirl was waiting for her. All of the employees knew Jess by name. Each of them spoke to her by name. Amanda, her salesgirl, gave Jess her undivided attention for one hour and 15 minutes. She helped no one in the store except Jess. She brought Jess jeans, shirts, cami's, shoes, and even offered her a bottle of water while we were there... There was no charge for this attention... Jess felt like a princess and was treated as such.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had planned to buy one pair of jeans... &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I did not.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I bought three...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and four shirts...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and two cami's...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and a pair of shoes...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It is important to me to be treated well while I am shopping... it is even more important to me that my family be treated well...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I highly recommend Buckle at Southpoint. They were wonderful to my child... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;and to me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-4046340323008678044?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/4046340323008678044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/customer-service.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4046340323008678044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4046340323008678044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/customer-service.html' title='Customer Service'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-7055681780542238879</id><published>2012-01-10T22:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T22:22:30.692-05:00</updated><title type='text'>change</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My friend got a new job. That is awesome for her. She will get more money. She will be challenged in a way that she desires. She will have good hours and will still be able to be there for her family. She will be teaching children who need a good teacher and strong influence. This will be a great change for her. Her change rocks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My friend got a new job. That sucks for me. I will miss her. She will no longer be in the same building as I am. She will no longer come into my classroom each day to give me pearls of wisdom. She will no longer be able to tell me about all of the sales on landsend.com/overstocks every single morning. She will no longer be there to laugh at my daily jokes or drama. She will no longer&amp;nbsp;be there to help me solve all of the the problems of the world. This will be a bad change for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My change sucks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am thrilled for her. I love her. I know in my heart that this is good for her. Her man is happy. She is happy. Sooooo, therefore, I will be happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-7055681780542238879?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/7055681780542238879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/change.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7055681780542238879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7055681780542238879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/change.html' title='change'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-156572028922387810</id><published>2012-01-09T14:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T14:35:07.764-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HE can handle it</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have a special child - okay, all three of my kids are special. You know that is not what I mean. One of my children is diagnosed with a few things. This child has ocd, adhd, and a frontal lobe disorder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It is hard. I spend a lot of time dealing with doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, pharmacists, teachers, IEP's, homework reviews, sibling struggles due to special needs, and many other aspects for this child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Almost all extra money goes toward something for this child. &lt;br /&gt;A large part of the monthly budget goes toward the medical needs of this child. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Would I change it if I could? Well, this is where I would say, "No, I love my kids just the way they are. God is teaching me so many things thru all of this..." But, I am not nearly as holy as I would like to be. So, I will be honest - I would love to have my child healed. I would love to see my child be just like the average child and have average problems and joys... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have often heard "God won't give you more than you can handle"... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I really do think that is crap&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I believe instead &lt;strong&gt;"GOD won't give you more than HE can help you through."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;In the last 6 weeks, we have started new medication that has changed our lives. &lt;br /&gt;We have more laughs, more joys, less sibling warfare, more peace. It has been nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Over Christmas break, we had one horrible day. We had a adverse reaction to one pill... &lt;br /&gt;It changed everything. We could not get away from it nor could we fix it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thankfully, I have a wonderful friend who walked us through it. She pointed out the manic episode had to be due to a medication. She met with me, cried with me, prayed for me....&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;then she met with my child, talked with my child, prayed over my child....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;God had my family to go through a &lt;strong&gt;HORRIFIC&lt;/strong&gt; ordeal with a child of mine. I could not handle it. I lost my mind. But, God helped me through it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So, if you are going through a rough patch... and someone tells you that God wouldn't let you go through it if you can't handle it... please&amp;nbsp;know that it may not be true... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;HOWEVER&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;HE&lt;/strong&gt; will help you through it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HE&lt;/strong&gt; will guide you, comfort you, assist you, and can handle it for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-156572028922387810?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/156572028922387810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/he-can-handle-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/156572028922387810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/156572028922387810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/he-can-handle-it.html' title='HE can handle it'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-6920138912536322523</id><published>2012-01-08T16:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T16:03:54.748-05:00</updated><title type='text'>looking at youth groups</title><content type='html'>I need a good youth group for my kids. I want a youth group that does Bible Studies and small groups. I want a youth leader who will be invested in my kids. I am looking for a youth group that meets each week, but also does fun activities together that build a sense of community... amusement parks, bowling, skating, sleepovers, water fights, overnight trips, mission trips, community service... not just one week of summer camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking for a strong community for my kids to belong to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can teach them right from wrong. I can read to them the scripture and try to live a life that demonstrates the Godly way. I can be there to answer questions and talk about the hard subjects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I cannot give them Godly friends, only provide a place for them to hopefully find them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I cannot give them a community, only provide a ride to the event and hope that someone reaches out to them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I cannot be a mentor to them, only ask a leader to please reach out and take my child under his/her wing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes teens need to talk and they don't want to talk to their parents - a good youth leader would be great!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes teens need help making friends - a good youth leader or small group leader would draw them in and encourage them to make relationships.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes teens need to be accountable - a good leader and youth group can provide accountability when parents can't always be there.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My children are in a youth group right now... but it is too huge. They are out numbered. They are not super sporty or super popular personalities. They are normal, average, nice kids. They get overlooked or missed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;are your children in a great youth group? Please Please PLEASE give me some feedback....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-6920138912536322523?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/6920138912536322523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/looking-at-youth-groups.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/6920138912536322523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/6920138912536322523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/looking-at-youth-groups.html' title='looking at youth groups'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-6279592328208492830</id><published>2012-01-08T15:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T15:25:17.525-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i've decided</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I've decided that I am not nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I speak my mind. I am honest. I am too blunt sometimes. I tend to be passionate about my opinion. I may listen to other views but rarely change my mind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am not nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am not very compassionate. If your head hurts, take a painkiller... if it still hurts, I will talk more quietly and try to help... if you are not willing to do anything about it, shut up. If you hate your job, look for a new one or ways to change the one you are in. If you continue with the way things are, shut up. If your husband or wife treats you horribly, let's find a way to make it better. If you continue to be a floor mat, shut up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am not nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I really do not know how or when I became this way. I do not think I have been mean forever... but when I think back, I truly cannot remember being nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My husband tells me that I am a nice person to "those who are on my top 10 list. But if you are not on the list, watch out." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;that makes me sad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I guess if I want to be nicer, I should do something about it or shut up!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-6279592328208492830?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/6279592328208492830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/ive-decided.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/6279592328208492830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/6279592328208492830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2012/01/ive-decided.html' title='i&apos;ve decided'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-5291575690158343311</id><published>2011-12-24T12:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T12:02:49.025-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HE was born</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I understand that Jesus was probably not born on December 25, 0000... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but &lt;strong&gt;He was born&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I cannot fathom my Lord choosing to leave heaven and all of its wonder. I cannot imagine looking into the eyes of God, the Father, and being willing to leave Him to come to earth. I wonder why He was interested in coming to help a horrible sinner such as myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but &lt;strong&gt;He was born&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As I was growing up, I would love to tell you wonderful heartfelt stories about my childhood Christmases... I would love to tell you that we prayed each night and re-told the Christmas story. I would love to tell you that Christmas Eve we read the story from Luke and were teary as we thought about Christ coming to the earth to save us from the depths of hell... but we never did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Christmas was all about Santa. I loved him. To this day, I collect Santas. I know that many Christians are against Santa and some have a fit when they discover that I have a ton of Santas. Santa loved me regardless of my behavior or attitude. Santa always wanted the best for me. Santa always brought me the most wonderful surprises and gifts. He was an amazing man, a forgiving man, a loving man&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but &lt;strong&gt;HE was born&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Jesus is the reason that we celebrate. He is an amazing GOD. He is a forgiving GOD. He is a loving GOD.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He was born... a couple thousand years ago... just for me... well, I know that it was for all of us... but as an only, adopted child... I like to think that all Jesus did, went thru, and died for was for me... cause I need it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He was born of a virgin. He left heaven to come to a smelly stable. He grew up in a social class that was far beneath the King He should have been. He died in a horrible, gruesome way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He was born&lt;/strong&gt; for me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Merry Christmas - and Happy Birthday to Jesus... I pray that I can remember and concentrate on the true meaning and reason to celebrate Christmas... and I pray that my children will have wonderful memories of Christmas just like I did... but &lt;em&gt;different&lt;/em&gt; memories...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;because&lt;strong&gt; HE was born&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-5291575690158343311?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/5291575690158343311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/he-was-born.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5291575690158343311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5291575690158343311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/he-was-born.html' title='HE was born'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-5160905521596451797</id><published>2011-12-24T11:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T11:49:02.459-05:00</updated><title type='text'>but I love Christmas</title><content type='html'>I love Christmas... I really really really, truly LOVE Christmas... I know it is stressful. I understand that it is depressing to some who have lost loved ones or who are alone during the holiday... I get it. I have lost some amazing family members as well. I have friendships that have been lost or lessened greatly over the past year. I have family that is far away and who I cannot hug or love on this weekend. I have a husband who is not a fan of Christmas. I work myself to death in the kitchen and at the mall to prepare. It is exhausting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I love Christmas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love giving gifts to my family... I want NOTHING... ask them, it is true. I get frustrated if I have to open presents... I really do. I don't want birthday gifts. I don't want Christmas gifts. Write me a letter from the heart. Paint or draw me a picture. But I do not like opening presents at all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I love Christmas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to think and brainstorm over what would bring a smile or better yet a SQUEAL from my children. I love to think of a surprise gift for my parents and my husband. Scott and I rarely buy for ourselves. So, I like to try to get one "OMG" gift for him each year... not a big price tag, just something he wants, not needs... I love to get the best deal on the gift. More than anything, I love to stay up late Christmas Eve getting Santa ready... to anticipate the screaming as they RUN into the bonus room in just a few hours... I get no sleep Christmas Eve&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I love Christmas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to watch each child take turns opening presents (youngest to oldest, one gift each round). I like to hear the joy and the laughter. I love to see them try to act happy over the pair of jeans, and then squeal when they find a special surprise in the pocket of the jeans... I love to get tackled by the happy child who could not believe that I found it, got it, or actually bought whatever that gift was that they so desperately wanted and had opened. Then there is the cleaning of all the mess spread out all over the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I love Christmas....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it so much that I just can't wait till this evening... I love it&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-5160905521596451797?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/5160905521596451797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/but-i-love-christmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5160905521596451797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5160905521596451797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/but-i-love-christmas.html' title='but I love Christmas'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-3070355767174243612</id><published>2011-12-19T12:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T12:22:35.958-05:00</updated><title type='text'>silly kids</title><content type='html'>my kids find funny ways to humor themselves... and me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now my kids have ipod touches, PS2, Wii games, computer games, a trampoline, two golden retrievers, bikes, scooters, skateboards, balls, Frisbees, Lego's, puzzles, books, etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what are two of my kids doing? they have taken the lid off of my wrapping paper box... (under the bed storage sized)... they perch themselves on it, precariously on the top of the carpeted steps and SURF down... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm headed to the mall - if they are this easy to entertain, I am returning a ton of stuff!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-3070355767174243612?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/3070355767174243612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/silly-kids.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/3070355767174243612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/3070355767174243612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/silly-kids.html' title='silly kids'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-5215813459659517442</id><published>2011-12-19T12:17:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T12:17:58.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas from Caleb</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;It has been another crazy year in our house! Mom is sobusy with all of our Christmas activities that she has asked me to write thisyear's letter once again. I got a lot of great feedback last year, so I am sureyou will not mind hearing from me again!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Spring 2011 brought some fun for my brother andsister. Jessica competed in three separate dance competitions. She did a greatjob. She looked so pretty, and I was very proud of her. Alex joined Boy Scouttroop 400. He has loved it. He camps almost every other weekend. I think heslept in a tent 5 out of 7 nights a week during the summer - even through somerain storms. He let me join him a few times. I can't wait to join Cub Scouts inJune 2012&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Dad is still liking working at SAS. He has a reallycool building. My favorite room is the snack room. Alex likes Mr Goodnight's(the owner of SAS) rock and mineral collection. Jessica likes all of the coolartwork and structures around the campus. Mom says that the benefits areamazing, but I have no idea what she is talking about. Mom goes to the doctorthere, but me and my brother and sister really just like to go to family daybecause they have a huge celebration.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Mom still works at my old preschool. I don't know whyshe didn't come with me to big school, but I keep telling her that she needsto. I ride with her to work &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;each morning and set up her classroom for her before Ihop on the school &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;bus. I am thefirst Sublett kid to get to ride the bus. I really like it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Alex and Jessdon’t want me to ride it, but I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;begged and I'mmom's favorite!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;I hope you have a great Christmas - okay, truthfully,I do not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;know who you even are - but I tend to be a nice kid,so I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;hope yourChristmas is great!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Merry Christmas, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Tall Paul&amp;quot;; font-size: 55pt;"&gt;CALEB SUBLETT&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;(and Scott, Amanda, Alex, and Jessica Sublett too)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-5215813459659517442?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/5215813459659517442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/merry-christmas-from-caleb.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5215813459659517442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5215813459659517442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/merry-christmas-from-caleb.html' title='Merry Christmas from Caleb'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-7549654668645093906</id><published>2011-12-09T17:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-09T17:49:48.439-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hurt me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;talk about me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;ignore me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;walk past me and do not speak&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;better yet, walk past me and mutter something ugly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;talk about me behind my back to people I love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;criticize my life, my weight, my parenting, my choices&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;but do not hurt my children&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;period&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1J7leCpSdts/TuKPpBIYnuI/AAAAAAAAANw/M8UZRW0cDSM/s1600/100_0602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1J7leCpSdts/TuKPpBIYnuI/AAAAAAAAANw/M8UZRW0cDSM/s320/100_0602.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;do not enjoy seeing my children have their feelings hurt... I know that it is normal and expected over their lifetime. I know that some of their friends will be friends forever. I also know that some of their friends will move on. I know that they will say ugly things about people and that people will say ugly things about them. I understand that life will not always be a bed of roses for them. I also understand that even beautiful roses have nasty thorns&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;knowing all of this does not make it any easier when they are hurting&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-7549654668645093906?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/7549654668645093906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/hurt-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7549654668645093906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7549654668645093906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/hurt-me.html' title='hurt me'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1J7leCpSdts/TuKPpBIYnuI/AAAAAAAAANw/M8UZRW0cDSM/s72-c/100_0602.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-4494941626366684694</id><published>2011-12-03T11:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-03T12:17:02.332-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sense of value</title><content type='html'>as parents we have a lot of jobs... we cook, clean, discipline, love, fix, drive, teach, help, hurt, model, influence, nurse, minister....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one of the many jobs that I need to improve on is giving my children a sense of importance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we need to value our children. we need to love them and treasure them in such a way that they feel how important they are. they need to know that they have sincere and deep value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we should carve out time that is specifically for them... doing what they enjoy with them. this is not watching them play ball or going to their concert... this is sitting together watching a movie, enjoying a meal out on a date, playing ball together... ACTIVELY doing something WITH your child...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i get too busy. i have got to set aside the crap that takes my attention away from my kids. i need to make them more important in my daily life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;last night my daughter got asked out to the movies by an 8th grader... she was thrilled. he wanted to take her out and spend time and money on her... then an hour later, he told her that his ex-girlfriend was jealous and may want to go with them "just as friends"... this made my kid uncomfortable, but she was actually willing to go through with it because she just wanted to be "wanted"... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;what the heck? i had failed. she was willing to put up with being treated like second fiddle to a kid who was either passive aggressive and unwilling to take a stand&amp;nbsp;or unwilling to make a choice so he would just take two girls to the movies. i told her to put her phone down, and think about it. give it the night and wait till morning to make a decision...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;this morning, she came out of her room and texted him.... (paraphrase) "my mom pointed out to me last night that you asked me to the movies, but also your ex. this is only showing me that either you are not completely interested in me or that you are not able to take a stand when someone is upset. either way, i am not interested in anyone like that. i will not be going to the movies today with you. have fun."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;there we go&lt;/strong&gt; - she has value. we do not lower our standards of what we will accept or how we will be treated just in order to get a date.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let's empower our children that &lt;strong&gt;they are worth more than anything... they are worth fighting for and waiting for...&lt;/strong&gt; so, fight for your kids and give them your time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;if WE do not teach them this... what will they learn by our &lt;em&gt;non-actions&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-4494941626366684694?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/4494941626366684694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/sense-of-value.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4494941626366684694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4494941626366684694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/12/sense-of-value.html' title='sense of value'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-4773435282259977711</id><published>2011-11-24T13:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T16:37:41.655-05:00</updated><title type='text'>new holiday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;things are different this year - some things are different in great ways and some are just different...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It is weird to be up in PA for the holiday and not have my in-laws with us... Rusty is still in a couple casts from his accident on the football field... MawB is still moving slowly from a very serious surgery. I have not celebrated Thanksgiving in TWENTY years without them... it is weird different... Stacy was just cutting the turkey. Rusty and I always fight over the skin - we love it... It was not nearly as much fun without him to fight with and without Judy hollering at us to quit while MawB watched with a small smile....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It is different to hear all of the language at the table... we have English. We have some Chinese. We have baby talk. And then we have the odd mixture of all three being spoken all through out the house. It is beautiful to hear. It is different, but it works. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My kids are finally at that age where I do not have to help them... They get their business taken care of in the restroom. They are dressing and packing their own suitcases and bodies... as a matter of fact, Alex forgot socks, but I think it is funny. They do not need help fixing their dinner plate. They can handle it all on their own. It is nice to see. I can actually eat WARM food this year... no running around fixing plates and drinks and cutting meat in to bite-size pieces...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We are in a hotel. We are now such a big family that it is difficult for all of us to be under one roof... now, I am sure we could make it work... but, we are staying in a hotel. With a total of 14 people here (remember we are missing three this year), it makes for a line at the restrooms and a line for a seat on the couch!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;there is a baby in the house... my little three month old nephew, Charlie, is PRECIOUS. It has been 6 years since there had been a baby Sublett. What fun he brings to the table - we are all fighting over who needs to change him, who gave him the last bottle, who gets to play with him, cuddle with him... with 10 kids and four adults here, that little baby hasn't had to be put down once!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Different is not always bad, sometimes it is just different...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;it is bad that we are missing three&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;it is wonderful to have new faces on Team Sublett&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;thanksgiving has been a good time all around&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-4773435282259977711?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/4773435282259977711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/11/new-holiday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4773435282259977711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4773435282259977711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/11/new-holiday.html' title='new holiday'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-7596402107670171990</id><published>2011-11-20T18:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T18:28:32.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'>good friends and good fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Last night a group of my dear friends came together to help a friend. We all worked hard to put together a fundraising BBQ dinner in order to raise money to give to her to help with the medical expenses from her young son's leukemia. Several leaders took control and really put together an amazing dinner. A wonderful group of firemen came together and volunteered their time and did a TON to help as well. We also had a group of girl scouts come and help sell items for more money for our friend. We even had a local band come and play awesome live classic rock and donated their time for the cause as well. It was a night where a bunch of my friends worked hard, together, in unity... and we laughed a lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had my daughter baby-sitting a bunch of the volunteers' kids (my youngest being one of them as well). I had my oldest son volunteering at the dinner. It is important that they witness how friendships should work... good ole "I would do anything to help" kind of friendships.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I started around 8:45 am rounding up items for the dinner. Some of the workers had been working for weeks... I was not home for more than 30 minutes at a time on Saturday... Once we got to the community center, we all turned it on into high gear. It looked great. The food was great. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but what was really great....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had fun. I laughed. I danced. I talked. I got to see a ton of people who I haven't seen in awhile. I was able to hug a few. I served a ton of people. But, I really had a great time. At the end of the night, we were exhausted and had raised a ton on money for our friend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;so -this afternoon, I am talking about the dinner with my oldest... and he looks at me and says,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"You have really good friends to have fun with, mom. I hope one day I can have friends like those."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;truer words have never been said...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I pray that he finds them too... and I pray that it does not take him the 40 years that it took me to find a circle like I have. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thanksgiving is this week... and I have so much to be thankful for - I am truly thankful for my circle...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;it is good&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-7596402107670171990?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/7596402107670171990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/11/good-friends-and-good-fun.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7596402107670171990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7596402107670171990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/11/good-friends-and-good-fun.html' title='good friends and good fun'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-8253454458553860920</id><published>2011-11-12T21:24:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-12T21:26:58.742-05:00</updated><title type='text'>yesterday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It seems that yesterday I was thrilled to have a little baby girl...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It seems that yesterday I was trying to figure out how I gave birth to a girlie little thing who loved pink, dolls, and giggled a lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It seems that yesterday I was changing diapers and chasing around a little girl who was her daddy's special girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It seems that time has flown by when I was not paying attention...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PMJIyVZVEug/Tr8qsrImnUI/AAAAAAAAANo/95gpaM7ZF-Y/s1600/100_0561.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PMJIyVZVEug/Tr8qsrImnUI/AAAAAAAAANo/95gpaM7ZF-Y/s320/100_0561.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It seems as though my baby girl became a young lady... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am more proud with every day that goes by...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-8253454458553860920?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/8253454458553860920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/11/yesterday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/8253454458553860920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/8253454458553860920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/11/yesterday.html' title='yesterday'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PMJIyVZVEug/Tr8qsrImnUI/AAAAAAAAANo/95gpaM7ZF-Y/s72-c/100_0561.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-1176511569332819033</id><published>2011-11-12T13:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-12T14:03:07.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'>one job title - MOTHER</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Over the years, I have struggled as a mother... all mothers do, and I am no different. We are referees, nurses, tailors, taxi-drivers, teachers, chefs, and many other professions.... all rolled up into one!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Lately, I feel as though I have been a police officer... locking up toys/items for punishments, jailing children while grounding them, serving meals that may not be as wonderful as they desire to remind them what jail will be like... separating the prisoners when they fight... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;laying down the law constantly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am tired. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have given up that role of officer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;In my "epiphany" over the last year, I started trying to teach everyone around me that ALL choices have consequences. I am now enforcing that logic in my household.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I will no longer nag about homework. I will provide an environment where it can be done. I will only assist when absolutely necessary (but will do, type, tape, draw NOTHING). &lt;strong&gt;Your &lt;/strong&gt;grades that &lt;strong&gt;You&lt;/strong&gt; earn will be &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yours&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I graduated from high school. I graduated from college. I have my degree and I have my job.... it is &lt;strong&gt;your&lt;/strong&gt; turn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I will no longer nag about rooms being clean. You know the rules. Things that are left on the floor will be thrown away.... if you do not care about them, I certainly do not. I am a minimalist.... if you are not using it, then you do not need it. If you do not care for it, then neither do I.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I will no longer yell or argue. If you need me or want me, come to the room where I am. Let's talk. I am happy to hear about your day and discuss anything that you need... but I will not be screamed at throughout the house like I am your maid or servant. You will respect me, and then I will respect you... but because I respect myself, these are&amp;nbsp;my rules.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am happy to negoitate my terms. I will talk with reason and with reasonable people... if you have reason and are reasonable, please come to me... otherwise, you would be wise to stay back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The choices of all of the people in my home will have consequences. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;No guilt, no threats, no manipulation, no whining will be found.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love my children dearly&lt;/strong&gt;.... so much so that I want to empower them with power to do great things in life for themselves and for others. If I continue to fight their battles for them, they do not learn to stand up alone. If I do their projects or type papers, they will fail in college or at their job when I can no longer do it for them. If I police their every action and arguement, they will not have the social skills to maintain relationships and work through problems.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am their mother. I will love them through it.... but they will start making some tough choices around here... and every choice they make will have an equal consequence... some will be wonderful, and some may not be so swell... but they will &lt;strong&gt;own &lt;/strong&gt;their choices... because all of them will be their own.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Amanda Sublett&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;-mother since August 12, 1998 (the afternoon that I received the call that there was a little boy in Russia waiting for me and my love)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-1176511569332819033?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/1176511569332819033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/11/title-change.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1176511569332819033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1176511569332819033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/11/title-change.html' title='one job title - MOTHER'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-1601864197008472959</id><published>2011-10-29T16:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T16:16:05.913-04:00</updated><title type='text'>hobbies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;where did all of my time go? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I remember a time when I was scrapbooking like an animal... I was not only caught up, but I would go to crops and laugh&amp;nbsp;because I had nothing to do... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;okay...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am now officially one year behind. It is very frustrating to me. It is not fun and is driving me crazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I need about a week with&amp;nbsp;my family gone out of town and paid vacation from work for me... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;... yea... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I guess I am going to have to get comfortable with being a year behind...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'll live thru it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-1601864197008472959?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/1601864197008472959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/10/hobbies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1601864197008472959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1601864197008472959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/10/hobbies.html' title='hobbies'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-2998655429021047895</id><published>2011-10-29T08:51:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T08:51:31.771-04:00</updated><title type='text'>so much</title><content type='html'>so much time has passed since my last entry...&lt;br /&gt;so much has gone on in the lives of our household since my last entry...&lt;br /&gt;so much has brought me joy and &lt;br /&gt;so much has driven me nuts...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love the chance to hit the "pause button" sometimes just to sit back and take a breath...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been told to "slow down and smell the roses" but sometimes your life does not give you that opportunity. Life with three kids, a workaholic husband, family all over the place, work, appointments, friends, tragedies in friends' lives, and simple errands seem to control my existence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to slow down and reflect... even if just for a moment&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-2998655429021047895?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/2998655429021047895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/10/so-much.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2998655429021047895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2998655429021047895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/10/so-much.html' title='so much'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-4846676573210984345</id><published>2011-10-09T11:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-09T11:02:35.901-04:00</updated><title type='text'>friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I understand that all friendships change from day to day... As we travel down life's road, we become closer and grow apart regularly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Growing up, I had maybe two close girl friends. I never really felt like I was a part of a community of friends. If I needed someone, I called either my best friend (a guy) or my boyfriend. It is a different kind of friendship with a male. They try to fix your problem or do not really get it - so in the end, I kept most of my "stuff" to myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Now, in my old age (haha) I am learning about friendship. Since having children, I have developed some amazing friendships. Some are based on our children, some are based on common ground, some are based on relationships at work... but all seem vital to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It is wonderful to experience that intimate friendship where you are free to express yourself however you need. It is hard to experience a close friendship start to fade. I believe that God has brought some very valuable ladies into my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This week has been difficult for me. I am experiencing the threat of a loss of the only great grandmother my children will ever remember. We cry at the thought of losing her. We hate the idea that she is not close by and we can not see her right now.... yet, this week has also been a testament to the many friends that surround my heart. The texts, emails, phone calls, and visits from friends to check up on me, how Scott is taking it, and my kids... it is overwhelming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I spent 25 years of my life with basically two friends and a boyfriend. I felt alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am now relishing the many wonderful people who I am choosing to share my life with. I am surrounded by friendships and love. I may be experiencing heartache, but I am in a very good place...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;I am not alone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-4846676573210984345?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/4846676573210984345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/10/friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4846676573210984345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4846676573210984345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/10/friends.html' title='friends'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-404866187245377623</id><published>2011-09-24T16:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-25T09:02:22.808-04:00</updated><title type='text'>christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;yes... I know...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Christmas is three months away&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But can I please tell you how much I LOVE CHRISTMAS?!? Being a part of my husband's family means that we celebrate Christmas at Thanksgiving. Scott's brother is a pastor and that makes traveling around Christmas more difficult. Scott's mom is the music director of her church as well, so Christmas is a hard time for them to be away as well. This all means that I get to celebrate Christmas twice a year... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I LOVE CHRISTMAS&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rW5uWUuYHoI/Tn45rOIHICI/AAAAAAAAANg/JRcGrNN6BOk/s1600/all+subletts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rW5uWUuYHoI/Tn45rOIHICI/AAAAAAAAANg/JRcGrNN6BOk/s320/all+subletts.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I guess you are sitting there thinking that I have lost my mind... writing about Christmas on September 24th... I know... but...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have been Christmas shopping!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;With four nieces to shop for and two nephews so far, I have a lot of kids to make happy! I have started looking around and trying to find something that is "child specific" for each of them... I do not want to just buy something that happens to be on sale... although sales are great... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I want to buy something that will show them that I thought about them... I love them... I know them... I want them to feel my love and then remember my love when they see their gift for months to come.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NuyhWSSndEQ/Tn8mRJtKusI/AAAAAAAAANk/AR74dR963ts/s1600/all+sublett+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NuyhWSSndEQ/Tn8mRJtKusI/AAAAAAAAANk/AR74dR963ts/s320/all+sublett+kids.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know Christmas is not supposed to be all about the gift... but in my mind it is...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;See, God gave a gift to me in His Son. Every time I see a cross, read the Bible, sing a worship song in church, hear a great sermon or talk about Jesus with my kids, I am reminded about that gift. I am reminded that God loved me so much that He wanted me to spend eternity with Him. I am reminded that He turned His back to His own Son so that He would be able to turn &lt;em&gt;towards&lt;/em&gt; me. What a gift. This gift was the ultimate gift. I did not deserve it. It was given out of His love for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;On a completely different scale - I understand, I truly do - I want my family to look at the things that I do for them or the gifts that I give them, as gifts given&amp;nbsp;out of&amp;nbsp;my love for them... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;God knew exactly what I needed. He had the right size, the right timing, the right gift....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love Christmas more than any other time of the year... I may just have to go get my iPod... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I may need a Christmas tune or two... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have gifts to wrap...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Did I mention that I have finished all my shopping for my nieces and nephews?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hee hee&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love Christmas!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-404866187245377623?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/404866187245377623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/christmas.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/404866187245377623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/404866187245377623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/christmas.html' title='christmas'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rW5uWUuYHoI/Tn45rOIHICI/AAAAAAAAANg/JRcGrNN6BOk/s72-c/all+subletts.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-2775016978680386095</id><published>2011-09-21T16:04:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T16:04:06.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>21 hours</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;... continued...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I got started on the meds... then there would be an emergency c-section... then the doctor would come give me more meds... then there would be... all in all there were 3 c-sections that night. After the third, I grabbed hold of my sweet Dr Gunter and "quietly and subtly" explained to him that I was next... I did not care if I gave birth, had a c-section, or someone pulled out a magic wand from their back pocket and "poofed" him out... I was exhausted and hurting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My friends and people who have met me since this event never believe the following statement... but I SWEAR to you that it is true... &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I never yelled during labor.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; More than that, I actually whispered the last hour and a half of my labor. Scott would keep his head right up to my mouth. I would barely whisper to him, "it hurts", he would turn and say, "she said it hurts"... (whispered)"I want drugs", Scott - "she says that she wants drugs." And so on and so forth for over an hour!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;I was exhausted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;At about 12:50 the following day, after over &lt;strong&gt;TWENTY ONE HOURS&lt;/strong&gt; of labor, the nurse called the doctor in and they decided to start setting up the room for delivery. They had laid me back, my mother had one knee, Scott had the other knee (after a few other tactics that will be discussed at some other time and place!), and they said that&amp;nbsp;I was almost ready to push.... I let them know I was ready - they said hold on one moment while we... and I pushed.... I really couldn't help it. My boy was ready to share his knowledge with the world, and I could not hold him back any longer! The nurse turned around to ask me something and screamed - so much for the room being ready.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Caleb Walker Sublett came into the world at 12:56pm. His room had no lights set up, no stirrups set up, and yet - he did not care... He screamed his way into our hearts... Now, I was exhausted. The sweet nurse Bonnie, who had started the time with me the day before and was amazing, held my 5 pound bundle up for me to see... I laid back with my eyes shut, tears streaming down my face, and said, "please clean him up before I look at him - I worked too hard to see all of the gunk!"... I know - I am an idiot... sorry - I was tired, emotional, and hurting.... I am sure he was the most beautiful, gunk-covered baby to ever be born - but I am just going to have to take my mother's word for it. I did not see him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Bonnie cleaned him up, weighed him, put footprints on a baseball hat for my father that said "proud papa", and handed him to Scott... the proudest daddy in the world. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My mother cried and laughed through the entire event - see, I am adopted, so this was her first birth ever to witness or experience. (this should be a topic for a future blog...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Scott handed my baby to me .....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;...the world stopped...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;just for a moment&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He was perfect. He was so flipping tiny that he looked like a glow worm - 5 pounds 1ounce and 20 inches long... he was a worm. But he was a beautiful worm!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Caleb's birth was&amp;nbsp;more than&amp;nbsp;a month earlier than it was supposed to be and one day later than I thought it would be. This has been our experience with him every day - You do not know what you will get with him. He says what he thinks (yes, he gets it from me). He is smart as a whip. He has a heart for the underdog. He loves his family intensely.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Caleb had to stay in the hospital for a week due to some medical issues. In addition, he was deaf. We had him tested by two hosiptals. We were told to learn sign language and start preparing for his future. I cannot really explain this to people, but I was not upset by this at all. Scott was devastated. It bothered him to think about Caleb's future. We are both musicians, and Scott had a hard time dealing with what Caleb was going to miss out on by being deaf... however, I just went with it. I thought my kid was perfect. I can only explain it by saying, I knew he was okay. I am not saying "I knew he would hear" - I am saying that whether he could hear or not, I knew he was okay. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I had a peace.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;One evening, my father had stepped over to visit,&amp;nbsp;a plate was dropped&amp;nbsp;accidently and Caleb started screaming. We were shocked. We did a few simple tests (clapping, startling, yelling) and saw that he could hear us. I took him to the doctor, and they could not explain what had happened. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"He should not be able to hear", is all they would say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I tell you Caleb's story to let you know that &lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;watch out world&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;... My boy has been through a bunch. He is tough as nails. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;He will move mountains when he grows up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;He has already conquered my heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-2775016978680386095?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/2775016978680386095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/21-hours.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2775016978680386095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2775016978680386095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/21-hours.html' title='21 hours'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-602463669079134726</id><published>2011-09-19T14:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T14:29:02.685-04:00</updated><title type='text'>6 years ago</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Six years ago I was checking into the hospital... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;I was not due until October 26th. It was a crazy day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let me start at the beginning... Scott and I got married in August of 1993. We wanted three boys... We actually started trying to have kids in February of 1994. By April, we were not pregnant and I headed to the doctor. We had a plan, I was a teacher, we were on a schedule, and I was in a panic. So, we started fertility treatments that summer. It was a roller coaster of emotions and experiences.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; In May 1997, I had a miscarriage over Mother's Day weekend... it was horrible, like all miscarriages are.&amp;nbsp; I had gained over 45 pounds while on fertility treatments, emotionally was nuts due to all of the drugs and hormones, and had a student in my class (in the 8th grade) who had an abortion the very same week.I was devastated... Then our doctors sat me down and said the most horrible words, "Mrs Sublett, we do not know how to help you. You have poly-cystic ovarian syndrome. 96% of the women who come through here are able to be helped, but we can not help you. I'm sorry..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I was an utter failure (know, that I understand&amp;nbsp;now that I wasn't, but this is how I felt)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So, fast forward - In the Fall of 1998, we traveled to Penza, Russia to pick up our sweet, little boy. After all of the years of fertility, I went on "the pill" to regulate my body again, and yes... I got pregnant before we left... we returned from Russia, and I gave birth to girl six months afterwards.... It was crazy. After all of this craziness, we were thrilled and happy... AND DONE. Two kids. Both healthy. One special needs in some areas. Two perfect children, two sleep deprived parents, one beagle.. life was as good as it could get...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;...or so we thought...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So, in 2005, my hubby decided to have a vasectomy... We knew that we were unable to have children, but I needed to KNOW that no more kids were coming into our household. We scheduled it. We were ready. And then... eleven days before his appointment, I took the last pregnancy test from under the bathroom sink... decided it would be a shame to waste it, so I took it. But please understand that it was only as a joke. But it seems that the joke was on me. The test came up positive immediately. No five-minute-wait for a sign. It was immediate. I took seven tests before lunchtime.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well, it took me a few months to understand how this would be a blessing.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So, on Saturday, September 17, 2005, some great friends hosted a wonderful shower for me. I was uncomfortable and huge... I was the size of a barn. I was retaining water like you cannot imagine. I could not eat at the&amp;nbsp;party because I was hurting. My baby was dancing, playing soccer, or just trying trying to kill me from the inside-out... My girlfriend, Tracey, took one look at me and said, "You have edema. You need to go to the doctor"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Monday, September 19th I&amp;nbsp;decided Tracey had a point, so I headed to the doctor... My blood pressure was 210/170... borderline stroke. I had pre-eclampsia. The doctor said, "It's 11am, you need to drive straight across the street. I will meet you at the hospital. We need to get this&amp;nbsp;baby out of you." I sweetly explained to her that I had a baby shower scheduled at work at 12... so, I would&amp;nbsp;meet her there around 1:30! I proceeded against her will, &amp;nbsp;and enjoyed my shower. I considered it to be my last meal, so I enjoyed myself. After the shower, I called Scott to let him know that&amp;nbsp; after he got off work, he should drive over to the hospital because we were going to have our baby 5.5 weeks early. I also mentioned that he would need to drive my car home from the hospital due to it being full of baby presents!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I was checked into the hospital at 1:45pm. I was taken to my room in a wheelchair. My nurse, Bonnie, was amazing. I had a nursing student attempt to put in my IV... she tried three times... my arm looked like a PIN CUSHION... now, remember that I was hormonal and miserable... I "pleasantly" let her know that she was done and could send my Bonnie back in and she did not need to come visit me again! I started my round of drugs to start labor, and began walking my laps between contractions.... I think that I had to have created ditches in the hallways due to the huge number of laps I made that afternoon and night...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It was a crazy day. I was thrilled at the thought of meeting my baby... I was terrified to know that he was going to be tiny and premature... I was hurting like crazy.... I was happy... My mother had asked to be in the room and was loving every moment and walking every lap with me... It was going to be an event of a lifetime...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;...to be continued tomorrow...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-602463669079134726?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/602463669079134726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/6-years-ago.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/602463669079134726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/602463669079134726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/6-years-ago.html' title='6 years ago'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-6705707874103581257</id><published>2011-09-12T19:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T19:12:22.262-04:00</updated><title type='text'>yummy goodness</title><content type='html'>just wanted the world to know... that Starbucks has created a small morsel of yummy goodness...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;cake pop&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; is a wonderful invention... 150 calories, three bites... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just enough to satisfy your sweet tooth...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could eat twenty of them... but I guess that would defeat the purpose...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-6705707874103581257?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/6705707874103581257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/yummy-goodness.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/6705707874103581257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/6705707874103581257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/yummy-goodness.html' title='yummy goodness'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-8908078073778443206</id><published>2011-09-11T19:12:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T19:18:23.854-04:00</updated><title type='text'>pets</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJkkPOLbfyE/Tm1ADyzvdWI/AAAAAAAAANc/Pe751nV-Wls/s1600/skylar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJkkPOLbfyE/Tm1ADyzvdWI/AAAAAAAAANc/Pe751nV-Wls/s320/skylar.jpg" width="213" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-av7erTyAdfY/Tm0_9N-cQiI/AAAAAAAAANY/394nO83sJ2Q/s1600/Sam+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-av7erTyAdfY/Tm0_9N-cQiI/AAAAAAAAANY/394nO83sJ2Q/s320/Sam+1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(top photo is &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Skylar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; - bottom photo is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Sam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;for some, the love from a pet is their first experience with &lt;em&gt;unconditional&lt;/em&gt; love...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have a dear friend who lost a pet today... It is hard experience... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am looking at my two beasts a little differently this evening... as they lay on their backs, legs straight out to their sides, mouths wide open with their tongues dangling out to the side...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When I am happy, my dogs make me laugh. They nudge me, rub up on me, wag their enormous tails, and greet me excitedly...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When I am sad, my dogs know it. They lay at my feet, look up at me with questions in their eyes, hang their heads with sad eyes, and are still...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When I am mad, my dogs are distressed. They pace around the room, Skylar wants my attention as if to try to change the subject, Sam brings me his snuggle pup, and they stay at a healthy distance...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My Sam is a nut case. He likes everyone in my family, but I am his favorite... which is funny because he annoys the heck out of me. I swear to you that he has ADHD and needs Ritalin... in LARGE quantities. He loves to be brushed and rubbed. He would play fetch with you until your arm falls off. He loves to swim. He does not like for males to be anywhere near me... if we have company, and I am standing talking with any man other than my husband, Sam will come and stand between me and the gentleman... as if to say, "Back off buddy, she is taken!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My Skylar is perfect. She is calm and quiet. She is the perfect snuggle buddy on a cold day. She makes a great pillow if you lay on the floor with her. She sits on my feet and stays close to me. She forces everyone who comes into contact with her to fall in love. No one leaves her without first telling me what a perfect pooch she is... they are right. I will forever adore my SkylarBean. She is the most submissive dog to ever breathe air. She is my dog-soulmate. She trys to look "aloof" but she is aware of everything around her all of the time... She will alert me when Scott's car pulls into the driveway. She loves people and has never met anyone that she does not simply adore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Our pets are a part of our family. We love them. We scream at them. They make us laugh and frustrate us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When a pet leaves a family, there is a void... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Friends - hug your pet a little tighter tonight...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;make sure they know just how important they are to you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-8908078073778443206?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/8908078073778443206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/pets.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/8908078073778443206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/8908078073778443206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/pets.html' title='pets'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJkkPOLbfyE/Tm1ADyzvdWI/AAAAAAAAANc/Pe751nV-Wls/s72-c/skylar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-1041875597487454797</id><published>2011-09-09T22:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T19:16:52.405-04:00</updated><title type='text'>new best friend</title><content type='html'>Tonight, I took the "youngers" (12 yr old daughter and 5.5 yr old son) out. The boy scouts were coming to the house for a movie and snacks - it was going to be a sweaty, smelly, fun night for them - so we needed to get away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to enjoy some pizza and some frozen yogurt. We had interesting conversations about kids at school, homework, playground madness, hippopotamuses, true friendship, and Perry the platypus. It was entertaining. We were serious, we were silly, we were stuffed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After eating some cheap &lt;strike&gt;cardboard&lt;/strike&gt; pizza, we headed over to Tutti Fruitti. We LOVE this place. But tonight I was struck by something other than the best frozen yogurt ever (I love the banana, the peanut butter is amazing too... but the pineapple/coconut, wow). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As we were walking into the yogurt shop, my youngest exclaimed, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"well, HEY!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; to a young, black boy. I had never laid eyes on him. Caleb walked up to him, sat down, started talking. You would have thought that we were in a high school cafeteria. They were hilarious... chatting, laughing, discussing major topics of the world (mainly Phineas and Ferb episodes)... I left him outside of the shop sitting on a bench with this friend of his... got his yogurt, came back, they were still going a mile a minute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I loved sitting back and quietly watching this hilarious union. They could have been brothers separated at birth (of course with completely different parents due to the fact they were complete opposites). The little boy was in third grade - my son is in kindergarten. They discussed TV shows, siblings, favorite toys, how cool it is that a hippo can be completely under water while just his eyes pop out of the surface of the water, and many other highly important topics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It was time to leave... they said their good byes, hugged, and I told the little boy's mother that she had raised a precious young man... she, of course, said the same. As we were approaching the car, my son says, "mom, he is just the coolest new best friend ever". I said, "Do you talk to him on the play ground or at church?".... He looked at me without hesitating and said,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Oh mom, we just met."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My son... he did not care that he had never met this child. He did not care that the child was three years older and&amp;nbsp;a foot taller.&amp;nbsp;He did not care that this child was of a different race. He did not notice any of these things....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Instead, he saw a sweet smile. He saw an "awesome Phineas and Ferb shirt". He saw a child who could talk about all of his favorite topics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I wish when I looked around Durham that I would see the town through the eyes of my son... there are so many friends that I am missing out on because I get wrapped up in crap that does not matter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lord, help me to be open to the people around me... thank You for sending Caleb to be my teacher.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-1041875597487454797?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/1041875597487454797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-best-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1041875597487454797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1041875597487454797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-best-friend.html' title='new best friend'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-1952532678109039439</id><published>2011-09-08T19:36:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T19:36:53.831-04:00</updated><title type='text'>hindsight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;years ago - Scott and I started trying to have children... we struggled with lots of decisions... How many should we have? Should I continue to work? Do we need to move into a different house? How much money are we willing to spend on fertility treatments... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;then a few years later... Should we adopt? Should we adopt domestically or internationally? How many children should we sign up to adopt at a time? How much money can we afford or borrow to complete an adoption? Which country should we go to in order to grow our family?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;then a year later... What do we do with this toddler who is climbing ladders to the roof? How can I chase him around while puking up my guts while pregnant with a second one? How do I parent two kids in less than 6 months time? Am I really cut out for this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;then came the "hard" questions about church and education for both of them (it was another 6 years before we were blessed with a third child!)...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Scott and I came to our decisions together... sometimes we agreed, sometimes we fought, but we always ended up on the same page...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We decided that I would not work until the kids went to school... and only then would I work during the hours that they were gone to school... Having our firstborn need more help at school, I then started questioning whether or not I should home school... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have very little confidence in my abilities... I graduated from college... yet, I have the patience of a... well, that is not even a fair statement... I have NO patience... none... zilch... with a hyper child, who needed me to explain things a hundred times, and still would need additional help.... well, I&amp;nbsp;knew that one of us would be dead or in prison!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;However, now... I find myself thinking that I might should have looked into homeschooling a little more closely... I see my kid wanting to do the same amount of stuff his peers are doing... but we do not have time for activities... we are doing homework for over 5 hours... I have always wished that my child had chosen a sport to get involved in... however, I see now just how it would never have worked with all of this homework.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;hindsight can be a wonderful tool for learning... it can also be a tool for bringing on a lot of guilt...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love my kids... I am trying desperately to do what is right and fair for them... I really am...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;God, please help me make as many "right decisions" as I can the first time around...&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;They suffer when I am wrong...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-1952532678109039439?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/1952532678109039439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/hindsight.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1952532678109039439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1952532678109039439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/hindsight.html' title='hindsight'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-793461650033593666</id><published>2011-09-07T19:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T19:24:53.625-04:00</updated><title type='text'>rough</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;high school is rough... funny, but I do not remember it being rough... at least not academically... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;High school was fun for me... I had a boyfriend. I performed in musicals and plays. I made mostly A's. I was super involved in my youth group. I went to a lot of parties... not with my youth group. I drove around with my friends and laughed a lot. I do not remember doing homework. I never studied until college. I would stay after school for play practice or show choir until 5:30 or 6 most days. It was a blast. My grades and test scores were good - I got into the college I wanted. I completed the degree I wanted, then moved on to the exact job I wanted... I remember everything a lot easier than I am seeing for my kid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My oldest is doing homework tonight... it is 7:20pm. He has been working since a little before 4pm... He is nowhere near finished. It hurts my heart to see him struggle. He is just doing worksheets and defining words. He is not studying.... if he were to actually study, he would have to work even longer. I know that is not going to happen... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;After 6.5 hours of school, is it really okay for us to expect our kids to do homework for over 3 hours... how about 4 hours... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I wish he was having the same experience I had in high school... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I wish I had the patience to homeschool... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-793461650033593666?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/793461650033593666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/rough.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/793461650033593666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/793461650033593666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/09/rough.html' title='rough'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-6332349618014856</id><published>2011-08-21T23:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T23:35:10.382-04:00</updated><title type='text'>big day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;in seven hours, I will wake up my 7th grader... in seven and a half hours I will wake up my 9th grader and kindergartner...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have spent the last several days getting binders labeled, paper purchased, items for lunches gathered, scheduled made and copied, signs for car line, open houses attended, and nerves squashed... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but now&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;it is here&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have spent so much time getting them ready, getting their stuff ready, and getting the house ready for all of the changes ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;but I forgot to prepare my own heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;12 years ago, after being told that we could never have biological children, I was standing in an upstairs room with Scott and another couple (the Farmers from Elizabeth City, NC) in Penza, Russia... we were anxiously waiting for the nursemaid to crest the top of the stairs with our firstborn son... he was 18 months old, blonde haired, covered in scabies, dressed for the arctic weather (it was 60 degrees outside)... and most of all, he was OURS. He was hungry for attention, love, food, and anything he could see or touch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I swear to you that it was yesterday.... sometimes, I wish it were... he is so grown now...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;12 years ago, after being told that we could never have biological children, I was so thrilled to have a 4 hour labor and FAST delivery of our daughter. We had our son for only six months before she was born. We were living a life of chasing a toddler and feeding a baby every hour, and were exhausted and overjoyed. She was tiny as a 6 pound 6 ounce bundle of joy. She smiled and cooed and her first word was "mama". She laughed at everything and was easy to please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I swear to you that it was yesterday... sometimes, I wish it were... she looks like a woman today...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;6 years ago, after being told that we could never have biological children, I was in shock to know that I was getting ready to give birth again. Our third child would be born 5.5 weeks early due to my being sick with preeclampsia. He was 5 pounds and 1 ounce. He had a heart murmur and a horrible cough. His billiruben was not good and he had to go back in to the hospital for three additional days after having been released. The doctors told us that he was deaf. He was tested for three months and we were told to start learning some sign language and make preparations.... a couple of days before Christmas we received the best present ever, he started crying when someone dropped a dish. He heard everything completely fine after that and doctors could not explain it. He was verbal and brilliant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I swear to you that it was yesterday... sometimes, I wish it were... he is so much smarter than I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;but, it was not yesterday. They are growing up. They are inspiring me, frustrating me, teaching me, and loving me every day. They are starting a new year in school. We will laugh over stories, fight over homework, cry over friendships, and celebrate over victories.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love my job as their mother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-6332349618014856?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/6332349618014856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/big-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/6332349618014856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/6332349618014856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/big-day.html' title='big day'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-2506797846118428176</id><published>2011-08-17T21:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T21:38:31.937-04:00</updated><title type='text'>here i am</title><content type='html'>in five days I have a kid starting high school... and a kid in seventh grade... and a kindergartener... five days... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is kind of funny... 6 years ago, I was pregnant. I had a first grader and a third grader. I had plans to start college back in order to get a law degree. I was heading to school and back to work full time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yet, here I am with a kid just starting school, and I never did get that law degree... I am still teaching at the local preschool and driving my three kids all over town. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;isn't it funny when we have plans that we KNOW will be perfect for us, but then God comes along and changes it from top to bottom.... I fought this plan change kicking, screaming, and cussing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yet, here I am happy... I love having a high schooler. He is happy and loving scouts. He is maturing in ways that make me proud. I love having a middle school daughter. She is turning into a beautiful lady and dancing her way in to my heart daily. I love having a kindergartener. He is facinating and intelligent. He makes me laugh and turns every day into an adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yet, here I am working... I get paid weekly to play and hug kids... I had planned to argue my life away in law, yet, here I am&amp;nbsp;playing with kids...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here I am... and I am happy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-2506797846118428176?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/2506797846118428176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/here-i-am.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2506797846118428176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2506797846118428176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/here-i-am.html' title='here i am'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-7179435070343340493</id><published>2011-08-14T07:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-14T07:36:46.357-04:00</updated><title type='text'>eighteen</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Scott and I awoke this morning to the fireworks of love... okay - actually, he got up to let the dogs out and I got in the shower to get ready for church... then one of us will get breakfast going, while the other gets ready... then force the kids into clothes while the other gets ready... then we will grab shoes and rush out the door about 5 minutes later than we planned...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Today is our anniversary! We have been married for eighteen years as of 3pm this afternoon. I remember most of that weekend so many years ago... I remember being stressed out, tearful due to stress, and unable to eat due to stress... I wish I knew then what I know now... then, I would have been able to breathe and eat and perform simple tasks without tears and foul language!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Scott and I have the perfect marriage. We love intensely. We get along, most of the time. We work as a team and are a united pair with our children... We argue over stupid stuff. I pout. He works too much. I am over dramatic. Money stresses us out. Appointments and activities of the kids get in the way of our one-on-one time. And through it all,&amp;nbsp; we are happy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Having never known unconditional love before Scott, I was a skeptic. I would push buttons and fight on purpose early in our marriage. I tried to see if he was staying or if he would have a temper tantrum and leave like I had seen many times growing up. Scott never left. He would get frustrated with me, sigh, and love me anyway. I am sure I made him exhausted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We run like a well-oiled machine nowadays... of course, all 18 year old machines have leaks, backfires, and tears in the upholstery... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have been learning in my life about choices and consequences - when looking at my sweet, blue eyed, cute tailed, loving man....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I chose him, I still choose him, and&amp;nbsp; I would choose him again tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Happy Anniversary to the love of my life, the father of my three, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and the only one I care to grow old with... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love you, Scott!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-7179435070343340493?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/7179435070343340493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/eighteen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7179435070343340493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7179435070343340493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/eighteen.html' title='eighteen'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-2249773771766064180</id><published>2011-08-11T12:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-11T12:15:38.729-04:00</updated><title type='text'>military retirement</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I read this on facebook today - it made me think...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Military retirement is not a Entitlement, it was earned from 20+ Years of Service! Their benefits aren't some kind of charity or handout! Congressional benefits = free health care, outrageous retirement packages, 67 paid holidays, three weeks paid vacation, unlimited paid sick days - now THAT'S welfare. And Congress has the nerve to call a Military Retirement an Entitlement?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I think I am usually shocked by the politcians who WE VOTE FOR... the fact that they receive so much in the way of money/beneifts/holidays/etc and yet are so quick to cut spending on the elderly, our servicemen and women, or US....&amp;nbsp; it is crazy... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;...I need to run for office... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(would that be so I could change things or so I could have the "stuff"...hmmm)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-2249773771766064180?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/2249773771766064180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/military-retirement.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2249773771766064180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2249773771766064180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/military-retirement.html' title='military retirement'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-1213504963092877062</id><published>2011-08-09T13:31:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T13:35:33.751-04:00</updated><title type='text'>amazed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I find myself amazed by people....&amp;nbsp; all different types...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am amazed by people who can love unconditionally and completely. My sister, Kim, for example. She is a lover of people. She has six children. Three are bio's and three are adoptee's... but there is no difference. She loves, leads, disciplines, instructs, trusts, and mothers each one the same. She is amazing. I love her and am trying to love like her. She is one of the most laid back ladies I have ever met. She does not get "ruffled" easily and loves intensely.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am amazed by people who are great leaders. I love to watch someone delegate and lead and be successful. I enjoy people who organize events to run smoothly and see them orchestrate the whole thing. I like to follow someone who knows what they are doing. It is good to learn what you are good at and then DO THAT THING... It is okay to be a CEO, if you are good at that kind of thing. It is okay to be a bagger at Food Lion, if you are good at bagging... no one likes to get home and pull their mashed bread out from under the cans of soup that was 10 for $10! And no one enjoys working for a company where their boss is an idiot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am amazed by people who live in the past. They talk about, worry about, wish they could change, and cry over the past.... That was me for a long time... There is something freeing about looking back and knowing that the past is exactly that... the past and it is over. Bless the LORD! I am happy to know that it no longer controls my life and my choices. My present is pretty great. I am happy to be here and plan to enjoy it while it is here. I will enjoy the now and plan for the tomorrow... but yesterday, well, I am over it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am amazed by the many different types of people in my life. I have great people around me. Some are strong, some are trusting, some are fun, some are crazy... I want to continue to surround myself with great people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Remember - you can choose... you can choose to be with those who build you up... or you can continue to allow your "friends" to tear you down. You can be supported, loved, and encouraged... or you can be controlled, condemned, and used... but you get to choose who you allow in your circle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;YOU&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; have the power to be amazing and surround yourself with amazing people.... money, race, occupation, etc - they do not determine how amazing you can be - &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;be amazing and be with amazing people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-1213504963092877062?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/1213504963092877062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/amazed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1213504963092877062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1213504963092877062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/amazed.html' title='amazed'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-4948970519830064383</id><published>2011-08-06T12:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T12:15:36.386-04:00</updated><title type='text'>celebrations</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;we all have things in our lives that we want to celebrate. some are big and some are minimal,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;but celebrations are great! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my youngest wants to decorate the entire house this morning -&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;he wants balloons, streamers, and confetti all over the house... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;he wants a party. he wants to invite all of our friends over to sing songs &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and play games...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;why, you ask....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;...he does not have school today....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;yep - he's five... acts like he is sixteen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-4948970519830064383?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/4948970519830064383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/celebrations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4948970519830064383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4948970519830064383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/celebrations.html' title='celebrations'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-5682181882214892333</id><published>2011-08-01T10:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-01T10:45:12.185-04:00</updated><title type='text'>choices have consequences</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It has taken me so long to learn that every choice has a consequence... every choice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have made some great choices in life... my husband, my adoption trip to Russia, friendships, some car choice, some jobs, a few hairstyles, my wonderful epiphany 2010... then I have made some horrible choices... the location of my home, a car purchased in 2005, a few hairstyles, a few lop-sided friendships, to remain in an abusive relationship with people who hurt me... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Each of these decisions have had consequences. I have to live with them because I CHOSE them. It is a hard lesson to learn that we have a lot more control over our lives than we are led to believe as kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If you are struggling or unhappy, stand up, pull up your grown up britches and change your circumstance. I know that it will be hard and scary... but YOU decide where you are going to lay your head tonight... and who it will be beside. YOU decide to let someone use you or value you. YOU choose to be confident or manipulated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had a long talk with someone over the weekend about their life. Feeling the freedom and power to change some things in your life can be very scary and very daunting. I am impressed and happy to see a friend stand up and decide that things will be different. She is a beautiful person. She is a giver. She wants everyone around her to be happy and will sacrifice her own self for everyone/anyone else. These are not horrible qualities to have... yet, she gives too much. She owns too much of the pain of the people around her. She needs to protect herself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If you are a lover of books, pick up a copy of Boundaries... I was given mine from a friend at work and it has dramatically changed my life. Some may like the new me... I am sure my parents do not... however,&amp;nbsp; I am a happier, more complete person. I can choose to help others or to do nothing - but I am no longer being&amp;nbsp;manipulated or guilted into anything... It is wonderful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;P.S. (added after review...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;Let God lead your heart, and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;let Him show you where you need to get involved in something/someone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In all of this post - I can read where it sounds like I am saying "I can do whatever I want"... and that is certainly true to a point. But I do not want to let you believe that I no longer care about what we should do because we are Christians and because it is right... I do not always want to go to church on Sunday, but I do. My kids rarely want to go to school, but they do. I may not want to cook supper, clean my house, or lots of things... However, I no longer will call someone, meet someone for a meal, or invite every person on my friend list to a trip to Starbucks because I feel guilty if I don't...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-5682181882214892333?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/5682181882214892333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/choices-have-consequences.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5682181882214892333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5682181882214892333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/08/choices-have-consequences.html' title='choices have consequences'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-1887771638520559681</id><published>2011-07-31T15:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-31T15:44:54.737-04:00</updated><title type='text'>crowded but alone</title><content type='html'>my kids cannot wait... they hurry, dress, eat, rush me... &lt;br /&gt;we drive 20 minutes...&lt;br /&gt;arrive just in time...&lt;br /&gt;the kids bolt to their classes...&lt;br /&gt;I walk down the sidewalk alone...&lt;br /&gt;I sit on the second to last row in the last chair available I can see...&lt;br /&gt;seated with over one thousand people...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wish scott had been with me this morning&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-1887771638520559681?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/1887771638520559681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/crowded-but-alone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1887771638520559681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/1887771638520559681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/crowded-but-alone.html' title='crowded but alone'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-5327237578638567261</id><published>2011-07-30T09:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-30T09:18:41.029-04:00</updated><title type='text'>love of a father</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My husband is a good daddy... This weekend the temperatures are over one hundred degrees, although a cold front may come through and give us 90's... I am sitting in my a/c, heading to the pool and the cool movie theater today with the princess and the professor... but Scott is spending time with the boy scout.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The scouts headed out yesterday to&amp;nbsp;spend the weekend camping and hiking. I would swear that my boy scout's backpack is bigger, taller, and weighs more than he does... Then, I look at Scott's and worry about his back (he swears that his bag at work that he carries daily weighs more...). But nonetheless these two crazy fools have headed outside in this heat to bond.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;In this heat, I would be unable to bond with anyone. I hate sweating. I get crabby. I get nasty. I am impatient and hateful. I cannot think of anything that is worth me spending more than a minute in 100 degree heat, much less carrying a bunch of crap and planning sleep outside in it...&amp;nbsp; I am not a nature girl. It is pretty, and I can look at it from inside an air conditioned room or vehicle. I do not do tents, sleeping bags, dirt, open fires, or bug spray. I would be a horribly cranky lady if forced to do this for one morning... but a whole weekend? I would lose my mind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Yet, my husband left yesterday evening with a smile. He knows how much my boy scout loves it. I do not know if it is really Scott's "thing", but fortunately, my kid IS Scott's thing. Scott recognizes that all three of our kids are very different. He has to meet them where they are and get involved with &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;their&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; loves and interests... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So the boyscout loves to be outside, build a fire, whittle with his knife, and ride bikes. Scott does it all. The princess loves to snuggle with a good movie, talk out everything and anything, and read to someone. Scott snuggles and listens. The professor loves books to be read to him while he tries to read too, play pretend until it hurts, and explain the world to anyone who will listen. Scott reads, rubs his little back, and is the best dinosaur hunter around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I look around and see a lot of fathers who provide wonderful things for their families. They work hard. They are not dead beats.... but thankfully, Scott knows that there are more important parts of fathering than just providing... Scott has learned to PLAY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;To a workaholic this is a difficult task. But everyday, we become better at making the &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;MAIN thing the MAIN thing in our lives. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Right now, the MAIN thing happens to be&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt; three main things&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and we love them each differently.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-5327237578638567261?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/5327237578638567261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/love-of-father.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5327237578638567261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/5327237578638567261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/love-of-father.html' title='love of a father'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-3867083980657360529</id><published>2011-07-25T23:04:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T23:04:51.382-04:00</updated><title type='text'>co-workers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I shared my evening with a group of women I work with... I think most people would rather eat worms than have to spend extra time with co-workers... I am fortunate. I work with a group of women who are funny, kind-hearted, patience, wound tightly, laid back... We are a very diverse group of personalities. Looking around the table this evening we had the most relaxed and the most excitable present. Yet, supper was yummy and funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I think the thing that makes me smile the most is that we did not have to see each other. We finished working the first week of June and do not return to work until August 24th... yet we missed each other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have worked in several places... grocery store, olan mills, bed&amp;amp;breakfast, high school, middle school, book company, private music teacher, algebra tutor.... yet this is the first place where I actually want to see my co-workers during our time off... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I guess that is why I have been around this preschool for 11 years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am noticing a theme in my new-found 40's.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am blessed.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-3867083980657360529?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/3867083980657360529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/spice-of-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/3867083980657360529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/3867083980657360529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/spice-of-life.html' title='co-workers'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-7921308238335752312</id><published>2011-07-25T07:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T07:16:38.828-04:00</updated><title type='text'>rain</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am not usually a fan of rain... I have dogs... Wet dogs smell... badly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;However, rain does not discriminate. Rain falls on good people and bad people. It is all inclusive. Everyone out in it, gets wet. The flowers get water, but so do the weeds. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It can cleanse and make you grow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;God's love it like that too. It is for everyone... we just have to accept it.... God, help me jump in a big puddle of it today!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-7921308238335752312?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/7921308238335752312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/rain.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7921308238335752312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7921308238335752312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/rain.html' title='rain'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-4408279778493915845</id><published>2011-07-23T17:31:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-23T20:31:26.308-04:00</updated><title type='text'>cards</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love to buy cards... I buy them in bundles of 4 or 5... It's a problem. When it is Scott's birthday, I usually give him at least three... I will give him a funny one, a romantic/thankful one, and usually one saying he has a cute hiney! When I shop for cards, I&amp;nbsp;refuse to buy one card that says anything that I do not mean. We have all read flowery, sugary cards that spill all kinds of exaggerated love onto someone that you are merely obligated to buy a card for.... well, I won't. I do not believe that we should say things we do not mean. I have looked&amp;nbsp;through racks of cards for over thirty minutes for a family member to make sure that it says what I want to express.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So, I love &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;getting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; cards. Those cards&amp;nbsp;bring me joy and&amp;nbsp;stay with me forever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have a place in my cedar chest for them.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This morning, I decided to look over a few of them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had a pretty rough period during October-December 2010. During this time I had several friends give me cards. There is one specifically that touched my heart like no other.... My sweet friend, Janet, had no idea what was going on. She works along side of me every day and noticed that I was different. She was so aware of me and aware of my pain. First, it touched my heart that she even thought of me outside of work and went to the trouble to make me a card (yes, homemade!)... but the words inside her letter were encouraging, filled with kindness, and helped me heal. This morning, as I read it again, I was reminded of her friendship, and how precious her timing was with her gift of words.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My birthday was this past week. I do not like my birthday. I cannot explain it. I had great birthday parties when I was growing up. We played games, tons of kids, great food. I had co-ed parties with the girls sleeping over afterwards. I was an only child and received ridiculous amounts of attention and presents. However, now as an adult, I hate the fuss. I hate surprises. Hate is really not strong enough of a word. I have friends who roll their eyes, think I am lying or being dramatic... whatever. I love my age, where I am now, my family of 5... I just do not like the day of my birthday. whatever. But this year, my children started working on my heart about my birthday. How did they do it? They made my cards. They usually do make cards - but this year they wrote words that will be imprinted on my heart forever. My oldest son wrote about how I make him laugh and he loves life with me. My daughter wrote about her desire to give me the world because of how much she loved me.&amp;nbsp;My youngest drew an amazing picture for me with the sweet words "I (heart) mom" on it....&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have had 40 birthdays and have never received such a wonderful gift.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;so, what is the purpose of this post? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Remember to take notice the words you use... but even more, pay close attention to the written words that you pass to loved ones... they may be like me and treasure every letter. . . &lt;em&gt;tangible&lt;/em&gt; pieces of love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-4408279778493915845?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/4408279778493915845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/cards.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4408279778493915845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/4408279778493915845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/cards.html' title='cards'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-8031327551817829520</id><published>2011-07-21T19:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T19:28:29.414-04:00</updated><title type='text'>thank you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the sweet birthday wishes have been kind and heartfelt. Thank you to each text, call, and message sender. I am staying home - keeping the day low key. I have never enjoyed my birthday truly. No idea why. I am proud of my age (I am 40), but I hate surprises, hate parties for me, and do not really like cake...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;However, I have loved today. I had some appointments. I had some errands. I lved having a normal day.... part of my epiphany (read "reflections") was that I did not "have" to do my birthday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;if you were a caller, wisher, card sender or just a wonderful friend - thank you so much - I appreicate it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(.... I did go out to eat tonight with my family and parents even though that was the LAST thing I wanted to do... but I did it to keep peace...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-8031327551817829520?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/8031327551817829520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/thank-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/8031327551817829520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/8031327551817829520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/thank-you.html' title='thank you'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-3751189255346941946</id><published>2011-07-21T13:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T13:28:57.783-04:00</updated><title type='text'>reflection</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Today is a day of reflection&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Each year I take a day during the summer and think about my world... &lt;br /&gt;not "THE WORLD" but just the little part that involves me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Last year, I had a huge "epiphany"... I decided that I was old enough, mature enough, fortunate enough, rich enough, and successful enough to do what I wanted when I wanted... Now, when I read that in print, it looks horrible... I assure you that I have not cast care and Christianity to the wind and started only eating beef, listening to Trace Adkins, never shaving my legs, and watching Family Jewels on TV constantly... although that would be quite a life! What I meant was that I would no longer be controlled by guilt. I would do things because I wanted to do them or because I needed to do them... not because someone tried to manipulate me into doing the task. I lived 38 years under a certain type of control. I am determined to not allow my children to waste that much time under manipulation. I started eating at restaurants that I wanted to eat at and not always saying "wherever you want is fine" in order to keep the peace. I started saying no thank you when I did not want to go somewhere. I deleted my facebook - then decided that was silly, so I came back and deleted over 300 people who I had not seen, talked to, heard from, or had any desire to in over a year. My family is very aware of this conscious decision. We call it "epiphany 20-10"! I have loved every bit of it. It is extremely freeing. I have only regret that I had not had an "epiphany 1993" when I got married and was &lt;em&gt;supposed&lt;/em&gt; to "leave and cleave".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This year is similar... I am reflecting today. I am certainly not letting go to last year's epiphany, but I want to put a positive spin on it for 2011. I am a happy person today because of last year's reflection. I am content. I am complete. I am full. I love the people I choose to have around me. It is a good place to be. There are things in my life I would like to change. No one's life could be pure bliss. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;However, I am in the best place of my lifetime. &lt;br /&gt;Today, I am 40 years old. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Twenty years ago, I would have thought that at 40 my life would be darn near over. Yet, I look at it now as just starting to roll &lt;em&gt;correctly&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I am confident that this next year of my life will bring challenges and maybe a few hard moments - however, I am even &lt;strong&gt;more&lt;/strong&gt; confident that I can kick those moments in the tail. I am 40 years old, and I have earned every wrinkle and lump. In fact, I think I love them. The scars may not be beautiful, but&lt;em&gt; without them I would not be who I am today&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Today, I am 40... And tomorrow will be another day that I will conquer when it arrives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-3751189255346941946?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/3751189255346941946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/reflection.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/3751189255346941946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/3751189255346941946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/reflection.html' title='reflection'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-2700995282688505465</id><published>2011-07-20T20:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T20:26:31.993-04:00</updated><title type='text'>blessed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am blessed... my life is full.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This morning, the entire family was up and happy to hug Caleb and send him to his first day in kindergarten... just when we thought he may get nervous, I was blessed by a friend who agreed to ride with us to school, and her son agreed to walk with Caleb down to class... all of this resulted in a happy Caleb who cannot wait to go to school tomorrow... and wants to ride the bus, but that is an entirely different post!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;After taking Caleb to school, I was blessed again by two precious ladies meeting me to "toast" my kindergartner... yes, it was early in the morning, but there was orange juice in them!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My older children had friends to go with them to the pool... then I was blessed again with seeing a few more friends... again, my oldest child did not want us to sit in carline for Caleb and was worried that his little brother may get overheated... so he blessed his little brother by running up ahead and getting him and walking him back to the Pilot....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;After a crazy day of "run here" and "hurry there", the four of us ran over to SAS to eat supper with Scott, and then got a tour of his building... speak of a blessing... wow. Where Scott works is beautiful. He has recently been moved to the executive building to help oversee the audio/visual side of things there. He has a gorgeous place to go to every day. The kids and I were gasping, ooo-ing, and ahhhh-ing at every turn. SAS has been a blessing to us as well... the hours are not always great, but the benefits FAR out weigh the cons....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tonight, I will place my little one in the bed early... my daughter will cuddle up for a movie and sleep... my oldest is heading out to sleep in his tent with a dog... then there is me... well, I will go to bed with a big smile on my face and love in my heart... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;because I am blessed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-2700995282688505465?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/2700995282688505465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/blessed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2700995282688505465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/2700995282688505465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/blessed.html' title='blessed'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-7616630672208901209</id><published>2011-07-19T13:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T13:11:18.489-04:00</updated><title type='text'>6 years ago</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Six years ago... so much is different now... I was pregnant. I had a first grader and a third grader. I was nervous about having a third child. I knew the child would be a son, and we knew that he would be named Caleb Walker Sublett. We prayed that he would be brave as the "Caleb" from the Bible. We prayed and hoped that he would be a Godly man, as Charlie Walker, the gentle soul he was named after.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We had no idea.... My little professor will start kindergarten tomorrow morning. He is a strong-willed, stubborn little mini-man. He looks just like his father but has the spunk and wit of his mother. He is brilliant in so many ways. My Caleb is a goofy, funny, silly boy who loves to wrestle with his brother and sister. He loves to tell the same joke 20 times and expects you to still crack up. He can quote facts about dinosaurs that I did not even know existed. He loves animals in books, on the computer, or on tv - but do not expect him to touch any of them in real life! He loves books and knowledge and cannot get enough. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have watched him grow in three years of preschool. I have gone with him everyday and seen him grow. I was his music teacher and his motion teacher. I led each chapel he attended every week. I spoke with his teachers daily and they were my friends. I knew every person he came into contact with and every child he played with. I was there for everything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tomorrow, I will drive to his school and send him to his first day in a school without me. It is hitting me today... tomorrow, he will not be at my side explaining everything to me... tomorrow, he will not be begging me to play pretend all afternoon and read 6 books at rest time... tomorrow, I may even talk on the phone without having to stop to hear some wondrous fact that he has discovered and cannot wait to share....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tomorrow, my son will grow up just a little without me.... he will be fine... and so will I... but please, world.... please be kind to my son. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love him with all of my heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-7616630672208901209?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/7616630672208901209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/6-years-ago.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7616630672208901209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7616630672208901209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/6-years-ago.html' title='6 years ago'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2779017242447883477.post-7400330584074822338</id><published>2011-07-18T16:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T16:59:22.764-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a mother's guilt</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;my mother has always been able to make me feel horrible... "The kids never call me"... "I haven't seen you or the kids in over a week"... "Wish you had invited ME over for supper"... "Oh, that sounds fun. Wish we had known about it"....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am thankful that I am finally in a better place... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As I approach my 40th birthday, I feel like I have finally grown up. I can look around me and see that I am surrounded by friends who love me. I am happier and more content than I have ever been.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Back in October 2010, I had a very sobering conversation with a family member about all of the many ways I am "failing at life". I was devestated. I took all of it to heart and believed it as I have most of my life. Thank God that He had a friend give me a wonderful book called "Boundaries"... Through this book and the scriptures that it quoted, I was able to see that I allowed too many people to have a voice in my life... In all actuality, there are very few opinions that actally matter. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am a 40 year old woman. I have a BS in Music Ed and am good at my job teaching young children. I am a happily married wife of 18 years to a good Christian husband and father. I am a wife of three of the craziest children alive. We own our home, and I love it. I have a great life. I am successful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Knowing all of these things, why would I allow someone who should be building me up, tear me down by spewing lies?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This morning, I spoke with my mother on the telephone.... I called to ask her to come to the pool to watch Caleb swim. He recently learned the art of putting his face under without tears... She said she could not go because she had to cook squash for her freezer... but then started with the "you never call" , "I haven't see the kids in forever", "the kids do not come to see me anymore".... and crap. For the first time, I felt&lt;strong&gt; no guilt&lt;/strong&gt;. I felt no anger or negative feelings... Instead I felt &lt;em&gt;pity&lt;/em&gt;. I was able to point out how busy my kids are, that they each have cell phones and home phones and the numbers have never changed in over 14 years. I was able to remind her that she lives across the street and could come over anytime she wanted. I said, yes, they could call - but she has those abilities as well. She chooses not to call or visit or invite them over, therefore, they do not think about going over there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I think what I am learning.... besides boundaries... is that &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;adult choices have adult consequences&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. You can choose to do whatever you want, as long as you are willing to pay the price. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't know.... I am still learning. But it sure is nice to know that I am not guilty. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It is a good feeling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2779017242447883477-7400330584074822338?l=sublettcraziness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/feeds/7400330584074822338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/mothers-guilt.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7400330584074822338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2779017242447883477/posts/default/7400330584074822338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sublettcraziness.blogspot.com/2011/07/mothers-guilt.html' title='a mother&apos;s guilt'/><author><name>Amanda Sublett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13589387004288725180</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWw1cHptQ_U/TiSXlCxpsvI/AAAAAAAAAMs/gzGZwhrRrho/s220/family2011.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
