tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24118509390017255922017-08-24T07:25:55.267-05:00My Unfiltered ChaosI speak like a sailor and love with all my heart. This is all about the life of motherhood I never thought I would lead; fostering, adoption, biological babies and staying home everyday with all my monsters!Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-33796763418237552122017-08-10T21:24:00.001-05:002017-08-10T21:24:36.768-05:00Ruby's Birth Story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--LyP3J2VT28/WY0VRkZ_SzI/AAAAAAAAgys/LpAS-jJNYYcXqar9jcI4choQqOFYt0JlwCKgBGAs/s1600/TBPHOTO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--LyP3J2VT28/WY0VRkZ_SzI/AAAAAAAAgys/LpAS-jJNYYcXqar9jcI4choQqOFYt0JlwCKgBGAs/s320/TBPHOTO.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The glory of a third c-section, it's 110% planned! I knew the date and time that she would approximately be delivered, there wasn't any guess work. But I'm already starting to forget certain parts of it, so I need to write it all down before the details are overran with chaos and I forget.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Monday, July 10, 2017 we kissed the boys good-bye, left them with my mom and headed 45 minutes to the hospital. No contractions, freshly showered, but Jason and I held hand for a bit on the way there, we were nervous.</div><div><br /></div><div>We checked into Labor and Delivery, were escorted to a pre-op room where I was given a VERY attractive gown to change into. "Everything off and be sure to open it to the back," the nurse said. I gave Jason a little smirk, as I waddled to restroom across the hall after changing, buns sorta (maybe?) covered.</div><div><br /></div><div>My nurses came in and hooked my IV up, took all my vitals and then made me sign all the releases.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>"Do you want your placenta?" I almost vomited. Fuck no. I know that's some people's thing, but most definitely NOT mine. She told me about 20% of people keep them. *<i>cringe*&nbsp;</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Doctor comes in.</div><div><br /></div><div>"So you are for sure about wanting your tubes tied?" Yes!</div><div><br /></div><div>"Or if you want we can just remove them? It decreases your chance of ovarian cancer by 25%." ....but we hadn't discussed this at my zillion other OB appointments. This is a thing? I didn't even know it was an option. I mean I don't need them, because we are 110% sure she is our last. Sure, why not! Take them!&nbsp;</div><div><br />Jason was given his scrubs, several sizes too small. It was hilarious. When the nurse came in after he had changed and saw how uncomfortable he was she gave him some new ones. He literally had to rip them off, I was dying of laughter. We needed the laugh. We'd both been on pins and needles since arriving. My worry was a healthy baby, the boys had either came out not breathing or had stopped breathing at some point, I didn't want that again. Jason's worry was me, third c-section has more risk for mama, he definitely had all the "maybes" on his mind.<br /><br /></div><div>Then the nurse comes and tells me she needs me to take a lime green <i>shot</i>. Apparently it's a stomach acid reducer, in case I were to puke in the OR. I've never gotten sick. I'm not a puker. I never even threw up during this pregnancy.<br /><br />8:15am rolls around. I get a glamorous bed ride to the OR and then walk into the room, that whole process makes no sense to me. I could've walked the whole way, but whatever. I'll take the chariot ride!<br /><br />My anesthesiologist is an older man, but very sweet. I sit on the edge of the table and round my back out as he finds the place to place my spinal block. The needle and medicine goes in, I instantly feel like I peed myself- which apparently is good. I then lay back, and as I do so he says, "Now if you start feeling sick, let me know." I interrupt him to tell him I'm going to puke.<br /><br />"Give me 30 seconds," he blurts out. Nope....vomit....lime green....in my hair......on the floor.....everywhere! I was already numb and my arms were strapped down, there was nothing I could do. He <i>cleaned me up</i>, in that way a 3 year old picks up toys, so not very well.<br /><br />Once that was over, the nurses started in with their cleaning of my abdomen. All modesty out the door. Spread eagle naked in front of 10 or so people getting washed and catheter placed. Bless nurses!<br /><br />Finally my doctor and resident doctor came in and got to work.<br /><br />Ruby Avanell was born at 8:46am weighing 6 pounds 7 ounces and measuring 19 inches. Our smallest baby ever, but completely perfect!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T_6PfFxDhTo/WY0UMaKGNhI/AAAAAAAAgyE/8c6QjmVH_2k9IW-3IGNYnuQb8U-Z7-SWACKgBGAs/s1600/DSC04429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T_6PfFxDhTo/WY0UMaKGNhI/AAAAAAAAgyE/8c6QjmVH_2k9IW-3IGNYnuQb8U-Z7-SWACKgBGAs/s320/DSC04429.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cnNL4lvmyYI/WY0UOx8-OAI/AAAAAAAAgyI/TPOimNjh76UXihzW0rvKHq_E1IBJA9O5wCKgBGAs/s1600/DSC04435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cnNL4lvmyYI/WY0UOx8-OAI/AAAAAAAAgyI/TPOimNjh76UXihzW0rvKHq_E1IBJA9O5wCKgBGAs/s320/DSC04435.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />She pooped immediately after coming out, all over the baby station and screamed her little head off. Daddy held her and I kissed her sweet face.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aDsFyG9Wv7M/WY0UZEVJujI/AAAAAAAAgyM/w4qWkRbDElgjghhr4rrLU3JH1cW0zjYPgCKgBGAs/s1600/DSC04442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aDsFyG9Wv7M/WY0UZEVJujI/AAAAAAAAgyM/w4qWkRbDElgjghhr4rrLU3JH1cW0zjYPgCKgBGAs/s320/DSC04442.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />Then my tube removal began. It lasted over an hour. Jason held our peanut the whole time, patiently waiting. There were murmurs of bleeding that they were struggling to get stopped and some scar tissue talk. But finally we were done, and rolled to recovery.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FLvvP2xJRWw/WY0UiPbU2TI/AAAAAAAAgyQ/LOpHnrdf5UImb6WEXWH2k2aCvKHQmiyCwCKgBGAs/s1600/DSC04452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1064" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FLvvP2xJRWw/WY0UiPbU2TI/AAAAAAAAgyQ/LOpHnrdf5UImb6WEXWH2k2aCvKHQmiyCwCKgBGAs/s320/DSC04452.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><br /><br />Ruby's first latch was perfect. She nursed the entire time we were in recovery, which for a newborn is amazing. Breastfeeding is SO hard and I was nervous for it not to go well, even though it wasn't my first time. Every baby is different, and this was a relief.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BKdc3XRtoBg/WY0UllkhIrI/AAAAAAAAgyU/NchSXrfKI2sv2gYWsGRZV5L0hA8qnQmFACKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_8290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BKdc3XRtoBg/WY0UllkhIrI/AAAAAAAAgyU/NchSXrfKI2sv2gYWsGRZV5L0hA8qnQmFACKgBGAs/s320/IMG_8290.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br />We headed up to our room a bit later. The boys came up with my mom that afternoon to visit, and it was perfect. She completed our family and we finally had that feeling of completion!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ptzlSVsoAOc/WY0U7wVti1I/AAAAAAAAgyk/gApq1DjvumcF2KOT9eiUZ3dvlrMDEFqjQCKgBGAs/s1600/DSC04463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ptzlSVsoAOc/WY0U7wVti1I/AAAAAAAAgyk/gApq1DjvumcF2KOT9eiUZ3dvlrMDEFqjQCKgBGAs/s320/DSC04463.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-As5upk2YD9c/WY0U74NX2CI/AAAAAAAAgyk/wfiJwUoTfHAVWoXDFAmzL_7dTmtfYt01QCKgBGAs/s1600/DSC04473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-As5upk2YD9c/WY0U74NX2CI/AAAAAAAAgyk/wfiJwUoTfHAVWoXDFAmzL_7dTmtfYt01QCKgBGAs/s320/DSC04473.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VSnTRzrqzOA/WY0U7-rd7TI/AAAAAAAAgyk/GbHsNUpETxExu85dQk0xEnoaN5iDocFZQCKgBGAs/s1600/DSC04485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VSnTRzrqzOA/WY0U7-rd7TI/AAAAAAAAgyk/GbHsNUpETxExu85dQk0xEnoaN5iDocFZQCKgBGAs/s320/DSC04485.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t6sKbw4pS3I/WY0U78HJU4I/AAAAAAAAgyk/9iRHY0Rv1GAQPU-ASseO1TN_qCma5FYRACKgBGAs/s1600/DSC04495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t6sKbw4pS3I/WY0U78HJU4I/AAAAAAAAgyk/9iRHY0Rv1GAQPU-ASseO1TN_qCma5FYRACKgBGAs/s320/DSC04495.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />I want to share more on recovery later, it's been the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm still physically struggling every day. There's not snapping back happening over here, but another day.<br /><br /><br /><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="color: #7c93a1; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span></span></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span></div></div></div>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-51009925071348497842017-06-08T14:13:00.002-05:002017-06-08T14:13:40.231-05:00Entering Survival Mode: Not for the First Time MomI wish I would've known what postpartum was like with my first baby, and had a better grasp on what life with a newborn is really like. Honestly though, no matter how many people you talk to or books you read, nothing prepares you for that time. Not a damn thing. I feel like that is best though, because a baby makes you "grow up" so to say, not into an adult, but a parent. Trial and error becomes a way of life while navigating that first year, and it's all just surviving.<br /><br />So as I sit here just over four weeks out from delivering my third baby, I'm having all sorts of realizations; call it age or experience, whatever it is, I wish I would've had it with my second baby!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WqEB-oFcoIg/WTmhVHSji-I/AAAAAAAACIc/yP4g2PyCqgg4BGbUJXIiQvOu0FPv3WTOwCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%252857%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="640" height="319" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WqEB-oFcoIg/WTmhVHSji-I/AAAAAAAACIc/yP4g2PyCqgg4BGbUJXIiQvOu0FPv3WTOwCLcB/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%252857%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This bump and the dirty mirror....life!</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">Stop prepping.</span></b><br /><br />Put the Dreft down.<br /><br />With my first pregnancy I nested like crazy. I cleaned everything, made sure the nursery was ready before his arrival and washed the 8 million newborn onesies I was sure he would wear (he rotated through 8 or 10 in the end). I spent days preparing meals for when the baby came, and cleaning obsessively every square inch of the house, because who knew when it would happen again!<br /><br />That was dumb. I should've napped. Yes, I've made some freezer meals. I actually used a Wild Tree freezer prep kit (I paid for it, so no, this isn't sponsored). It took me an hour and half and I made 10 meals! I'm also just keeping things picked up, the baby won't care if that top shelf that hasn't been dusted in 11 months gets dusted any time soon. I haven't finished decorating the nursery either. Truth is, she won't even sleep in it for probably the first year, so whether that picture frame gets hung now or not, doesn't really matter.<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">Say no.</span></b><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>I've always been a yes person. I don't ever want to miss anything or regret not doing something. The fact is though, having a million visitors at the hospital or going to Thanksgiving with a 5 day old probably weren't the best decisions being a first time mom.<br /><br />So now, I've already started saying no. No, I won't commit to that play date, I'm tired. No, I won't promise that we will be at the parade, it's hot. No, I don't want a big baby sprinkle shower, it's too hard to entertain other people (<i>side note: I had a friends only pool party with donuts and it was perfect!</i>). I'm coming to love the word "no," and will probably continue this trend for my own sanity.<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">Have a plan.</span></b><br /><br />First baby; we came home to our two foster babies-<i>now our oldest boys</i>, drove them to day care every day and picked them up. I had almost no reinforcements to help me. I also didn't realize what postpartum hormones looked like. I cried for three weeks straight, with no reason, apparently that's normal but I didn't know that. I really think I was teetering on the edge of postpartum depression for quite awhile, it was all just SO much to deal with!<br /><br />With my second and now my third, I'm prepared. I have help scheduled for the first few weeks to help me get through the cries. I've even gone so far this time to line up a babysitter for days when I'm desperate for a nap, or so I can run away to the grocery store with just the baby. It may sound neurotic, but knowing how I <i>need </i>to postpartum has lessened my anxiety leading up to her arrival.<br /><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><b><span style="font-size: large;">Let shit go.</span></b><br /><br />It sounds cliche, I know. But if there's something that doesn't bring positive into my life, I'm not giving it any energy! I know I can't be doing my best in these last few weeks with the boys and then with a newborn while stressing about things that don't really matter. I'm blogging less, ridding the house of "stuff" we don't need, and reducing my friends and family.<br /><br />That last one probably shocked you. Let me clarify. I'm just not going out of my way to connect with friends and family that currently aren't actively present in my life. Is this animosity towards them? Not in the slightest! They're busy, I'm busy, and I just only have so much energy to give, and maybe in this season of life I'm just meant to be surrounded by a few people. I'm sure I'll rekindle things down the road, but leading up to this new arrival, I just don't have it in me.<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">Soooo........</span></b><br /><br />I know they say hindsight is 20/20 and maybe this is why I've developed this <i>ehh </i>attitude. But I'm preparing to survive. To make sure that everyone and everything in this house just gets by with limited sleep, clean-ish clothes, food in their belly and the quality time they all need.<br /><br />So please don't be offended if you stop by my house and there's little boy underwear on the floor. Or if I opt for a nap instead of going to the splash pad. Or if I haven't texted or called you recently. It'll all go back to normal....eventually.<br /><br />Are you preparing yourself for another little human in your house? Just survive mama, and let all the rest of the nonessential bullshit slide!<br /><br /><br /><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="color: #7c93a1; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span></span></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span></div></div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-42719681481781137692017-05-17T16:25:00.000-05:002017-05-17T16:25:02.203-05:00Dear Little Girl, Your Brothers Have Big Plans for You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2T5neiGt0LU/WRy_Ne9yaLI/AAAAAAAACHw/AxuRoskk3n8wOHPctoj8pF8v-3tYENOLgCLcB/s1600/IMG_5185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2T5neiGt0LU/WRy_Ne9yaLI/AAAAAAAACHw/AxuRoskk3n8wOHPctoj8pF8v-3tYENOLgCLcB/s320/IMG_5185.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dear Little Girl,</div><br />We've forever been a boy family. Our world has been dirt and bugs. Cars and tractors. And the colors blue and green have ruled our closets.<br /><br />That is, until the day we found out that the baby in my belly that was growing and causing me so much discomfort was a little girl. Oh how our world immediately got turned upside down.<br /><br />When we told your big brothers about them getting a sister, they weren't surprised. It was as if they already knew, and I think that intuition will continue between all of you for years to come. They also got really excited for all of the plans they were going to make for you. And I'll warn you, some of them are pretty wild!<br /><br /><b>You are our princess and will wear a crown.</b><br />You still have just over 7 weeks in my belly and own three tiaras. I know its a bit absurd, but Kayden insisted on it. You don't have to wear them <i>every</i>&nbsp;day he said, but he would prefer if you did. When he complains in a few years that you are sassy, bossy and always want your way; I'll remind him how he created that pink sparkly monster.<br /><br /><b>You are to always have your nails painted.</b><br />Based on Kayden's claim of you being our princess, you are also suppose to keep your nails done. He even talked me into buying you some baby polish and thinks that they should be painted by the time he visits you in the hospital after you are born. I'm going to say that probably won't happen; after all, you and I will just be in survival mode at that time.<br /><br /><b>You can't wear pants.</b><br />I bought you some jammies the other week and got eye rolls from your brothers, they insist only dresses for you. Girlfriend, I will overrule this one all the time on your behalf! As much as I love dresses myself, a girl needs some good jeans and leggings. Don't fret, they won't win that battle.<br /><br /><b>You are to snuggle them as much as possible.</b><br />I have a feeling that daddy and I will have a hard time holding you, because we will be fighting your brothers for a chance. Kayden and Layne have been practicing with their baby dolls, but we are still working on not squeezing/holding you around the neck. I'm not making promises about Jayce though. He's warmed up to my belly lately and talks a lot to you, but he also might not be a fan of you for awhile, give him time! I know he loves you and will love on you eventually!<br /><br /><b>You are to do great things.</b><br />I know this sounds cliche and you aren't even born yet, but your big brothers want to be sure you will rule the world. They've vowed to watch over you and protect you. They want to be sure you do amazing things once you get here. <i>{I'm ok if that amazing thing initially is sleeping 3-4 hours at a time right out of the womb}</i>&nbsp;But know no matter what you do, you've got some great men {daddy included} who love you more than you'll ever know and can't wait to get to know you!<br /><br />So here we sit and wait for your arrival. Pink, purple, sparkles and flowers have consumed what was an empty bedroom upstairs. We field questions from the boys every day on how you are doing, if they can feel you kick and if it's July yet.<br /><br />You keep growing girly! And rest up in there, because once you arrive, you've got a whole world to conquer and you're brother's will be sure it happens!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;">Love, &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: right;">&nbsp; Mommy &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="color: #7c93a1; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span></span></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span></div></div>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-32759718181732974472017-03-28T17:07:00.000-05:002017-03-28T17:09:21.337-05:00The Pregnancy Chronicles: 24 Weeks AND Name RevealSo it's been two months since my last bump update! I sort of skipped 20 weeks, because life was a bit of a whirlwind! But I'm back! Also. thank you from the bottom of our hearts for all of the warm thoughts and positive vibes from my last post! We really appreciate it!<br /><div><h2 style="text-align: center;"><b><u><span style="font-size: large;">The Pregnancy Chronicles</span></u></b></h2><div><b>How far along?</b></div><div>24 weeks plus two days. I got told today how much bigger my bump looks this week....."Thanks, I'm so glad!"- was my response; mentally, "Just keep your mouth shut unless it's to tell me how stunning I look!"</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Baby's size?</b></div><div>She's the size of &nbsp;GI Joe, eggplant, demi-baguette or an Atlantic puffin.....pick your theme!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Weight gain?</b></div><div>I've weighed myself, but I'm not entirely sure what I've gained. At 20 weeks I got told that he was happy I finally gained, then I got sick and lost several pounds. So I don't have a clue!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>How am I feeling?</b></div><div>Sore...literally everywhere. She is sitting in my hips and it's killing my lower back, hips and making my sciatic go crazy! I'm going to chiropractor regularly but there's no way for him to shove her out of my hips....so here I sit and whine!&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Current mood?</b></div><div>Excited/Worried! I haven't done one single thing to her nursery. Not. One. So I'm super excited to get it going but worried we won't get it done in time! Chasing other children makes it difficult to dedicate time in a room to paint/organize/clean. Eek!<br /><br /></div><div><b>Best moment this month?</b><br />Jason finally got to feel her move. With her being so low, all her kick have been in my hips till recently, so he gets to feel her wiggle and jiggle now!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Purchases?</b></div><div>Too much! We got a DockATot, mamaRoo swing, and an obnoxious amount of clothes. Amazon Prime is proud of us.....I'm not sure about our bank account!<br /><br /></div><div><b>Cravings?</b></div><div>Uhhhh food? I just recently really started to be hungry more than what's normal. BUT I really do love donuts!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Movement?</b></div><div>She's all over the place! I feel her mostly at night time and when I drive. She does like to wake me up kicking and making me have to pee around 2am!<br /><br /></div><div><b>Sleep?</b></div><div>If my other children could learn to sleep through the night, that'd be great!<br /><br /></div><div><b>Missing anything?</b></div><div>Not really! Although I could totally go for some raw cookie dough!<br /><br /></div><div><b>Looking forward to.....</b></div><div>Getting things together for her! AND our babymoon! We leave this week for Denver for 3 nights and 4 glorious days! Ahhhhh sleeping in and having adult conversations, I'm soooo excited!<br /><br /><b>Ultrasound:</b><br /><b><br /></b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pDYHE0RVKuI/WNrdTrkfb7I/AAAAAAAABlo/vbN0dIWsyEAVw5n_7fiVMIrDkSYSgw12gCLcB/s1600/ruby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pDYHE0RVKuI/WNrdTrkfb7I/AAAAAAAABlo/vbN0dIWsyEAVw5n_7fiVMIrDkSYSgw12gCLcB/s320/ruby.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was from our anatomy scan at 20 weeks, and LITERALLY the only decent picture we got (well beside all of the measurements and readings they needed to verify that she's healthy!)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><b>Bump Picture:</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pK_-qR90riU/WNrd23DSg_I/AAAAAAAABlw/gOBCi0magY4w6hv6fXpa8Y-WT_64mbCtACLcB/s1600/IMG_4036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pK_-qR90riU/WNrd23DSg_I/AAAAAAAABlw/gOBCi0magY4w6hv6fXpa8Y-WT_64mbCtACLcB/s320/IMG_4036.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">24 Weeks!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><b>Name:</b><br />(you thought I forgot didn't you!)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Ruby Avanell&nbsp;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Ruby has been our girl name for while and Avanell is my grandma's name! Now bring on ALLLLLL the personalized things!</div><div><br /></div></div><div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="color: #7c93a1; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span></span></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div></div></div></div></div>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-39244528786463331782017-03-19T14:29:00.001-05:002017-03-19T14:30:00.129-05:00When Someone Else Cares for Your Child: Our RealityIt's been over a month since I've written. It's not because I haven't wanted to, or that I didn't have anything to say {that's funny, because I always have something to say}. I haven't blogged, because life has had me so numb and worn down.<br /><br />I'm going to address something that is probably going to make some people uncomfortable, others gasp and maybe there are some sad people out there that would want to say hurtful things. Before I get to it, let me tell you that I am sharing all of this because I refuse to feel ashamed. I refuse to let others look at our family and judge my husband and I's decision when they don't know the situation. Or for other families in a similar situation to feel alone, like there is no one else in the world dealing with what they are. And most of all, I've always said that this blog is mostly for my kids to read 20 years down the road and to have a glimpse into their childhood from my perspective; for that reason alone, I have to share this.<br /><br />We placed Dayton, our 7 year old son with severe Autism in a residential facility.<br /><br />This wasn't a haste decision. The idea of just getting on a wait list began nearly a year ago, and it wasn't brought up by us, we were just dealing with his violent outbursts like it was normal. Our case manager and our pediatrician both suggested looking into our options.<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">How could we trust someone else with our son?</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">How could we be okay not being present for everything?</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">How could we do this?</blockquote><br />I let the list of possible facilities sit for almost three months. I pretended they weren't in my inbox and that it wasn't something I needed to address. We were told that it wasn't a matter of "if" he'd end up in a group home setting, but more of "when." I was also told to think of the other kids in the house, and the quality of their childhood. They were fine. This was their brother. They knew their brother was special and easily got upset, but this was our life.<br /><br />Everything changed the day that Dayton pinched and attempted to bite the baby (Jayce). Until this point he hadn't attacked innocent bystanders, only himself and anyone who got in his space. But the baby just merely walked past him. This was getting to the point of unsafe. At the time he was only 6, and I started to fear what the next few years might turn into with his behavior.<br /><br />I pulled the list of facilities back out and started calling.<br /><br />We toured a facility last fall, but it didn't work out. Our next facility to look at was two hours east of us. {Fact, there's only three facilities in the state of Iowa that take kids Dayton's age} We submitted our book of paperwork and waited to hear back.<br /><br />November came, and we got a call that he made it the second round of the interview process to get in the waiting pool. {Waiting pool: they can pick kids based on fit for a house not just by who is next} They needed to meet him in person. So my husband and I took a Friday and headed east with Dayton. The interview went great and &nbsp;we toured one of the homes; it was a dream! Everything he needed! We were told that someone would be in touch. A few days later we were told he had been accepted and put in the waiting pool: <b>6 months to 2 years </b>was the expected wait time.<br /><br />We went on with life as "normal."<br /><br />Just over two weeks ago we got a call that he had been pulled for a house with two other residents and two day staff workers. A group of employees from the company came and saw Dayton at school, the next day they said he'd been chosen and that we needed to come up to visit ASAP. Two days later we were headed east once again.<br /><br />The house was in a housing development. It was typical. But it was perfect. He'd have his own bedroom and bathroom. There was a living room, dining room and big kitchen. The staff there wanted to be there. They were friendly and well educated. They knew what it took to work with these special kids and told us all about the daily activities and outings they did. Dayton loved it there! We loved him there! So we said we were in!<br /><br />They gave us his move in date.....6 days from then.<br /><br />I panicked in the car on the ride home. This was too soon. Maybe we were making the wrong decision. What about the boys? How do we explain it to them? How do we tell our friends and family?<br /><br />I cried. I went through a whole host of emotions; excitement, fear, doubt, feeling of failing as a parent, joy, guilt, happiness, guilt for feeling exciting. You name it, I felt it.<br /><br />We told the boys what was going to be happening at the end of the week, and they got upset as well. They didn't want Dayton to go to a new house. It was hard.<br /><br />The week flew by. I was crazy anxious and stressed trying to get all the paperwork in order, all of the supplies he needed in order (meds, clothes, towels, etc.). I was frantic.<br /><br />Dayton made it easier for Jason and I to finalize our decision as the week went on though. He was a hot mess express. Screaming for hours, extremely violent to others and his self-harm skyrocketed. Nothing we could do would calm him down. Nothing.<br /><br />Thursday we had a going away party for close friends and immediate family. Who knows when they will see him again, and we wanted to be sure they got to see him before the move. He screamed and banged his head on the floor for almost the entire party.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tZr3EUwDTug/WM7WxbHC9qI/AAAAAAAABk4/P6y1KFAulJ8Z-XCp600a56VJ_DcOlkwBACLcB/s1600/PicTapGo-Image%2B%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tZr3EUwDTug/WM7WxbHC9qI/AAAAAAAABk4/P6y1KFAulJ8Z-XCp600a56VJ_DcOlkwBACLcB/s320/PicTapGo-Image%2B%25283%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was Dayton's going away picture with his brothers...it explains the complete dynamic.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Friday came and we headed east for a final time with the van loaded down. This was it. When we drove back it would just be my husband and I. We were going from 4 boys in the house every day, down to 3.<br /><br />We got him all moved in and settled. He was having the worse day I've ever witness him have. Dayton bit one of the staff (twice) and pinched the hell out of everyone else. It was horrible. We signed all of our paperwork and took him to his doctor's appointment. The house supervisor saw us off and told us not to fret, Dayton was going to be fine and this it totally normal. Normal? I was scared that they were going to call on our way home and say that we needed to come back and get him. But it didn't happen.<br /><br />I got an email later that night telling me how he eventually calmed down. He finally ate something and he had taken two baths. They said after his first bath he was giggling and smiling; and even more so after the second one they let him take. I felt at ease.<br /><br />It was done.<br /><br />I'm sure you're reading this and have questions floating through your mind. Let me answer a couple.<br /><br /><b>Why now?</b><br />Yes, Dayton's violent outbursts was the catalyst for us, but our other boys were our main reason. We couldn't focus our ENTIRE lives around everything that could potentially set Dayton off. Our boys knew things we could and couldn't do because of him. I refuse to have our children look back on their childhood and resent us for not allowing them to go to Train Days (we had tried, and lasted 13 minutes) or how we always had to leave other events early because Dayton was melting down. They deserve the right to be normal kids and did normal things.<br /><br /><b>What did we tell the boys?</b><br />The truth. We told them how Dayton was moving to a new house, and that they are there to help him with his Autism. They talked about how it'd be nice to not be pinched and bit, but wanted to know if we would visit him. Of course we will. (Our current plan is once a month.)<br /><br /><b>Are we okay?</b><br />We are amazing. We went out with some friends after we got back from moving Dayton (and used full advantage of a sitter). They kept hugging us and telling us how we didn't have to be tough and it was ok to be upset. But we weren't upset, we were relieved. He was in a facility designed to help kids like him. He would have staff with him 24/7, something we couldn't give him at home.<br /><br /><b>Are we still his parents?</b><br />Yes. Nothing can get signed or done without our approval. We will receive at least a weekly email update on what he's up to, but more as needed. Also, we can call at any time and check up on him.<br /><br /><b>Will he come home?</b><br />Probably not. We will most likely go up there the week before holidays, because holidays are a huge stress for him and make life miserable for everyone. Plus the logistics of driving and meds, it makes it really difficult.<br /><br /><b>Why am I sharing?</b><br />We have a great friend who (with 100% good intentions) said not to share this on Facebook etc. because people who don't know the situation would be judgmental. That bugged me. Not sharing this makes it seem like there is something to be ashamed of. It makes it feel like we should have this big family secret no one talks about. All that does to me is makes my heart hurt. I don't want the boys to think that they can't talk about how Dayton lives somewhere to get help. Not talking about it sounds like he died. I also can only imagine the thoughts that people would think when they see pictures of everyone but Dayton, and sometimes people's imagination make up crazier stories than the truth.<br /><br />I also feel the need to educate people on the reality that some families face. This wasn't something we wanted to do. We did this for Dayton. We wanted what was best for him, and getting him the constant help and supervision is just that. Our feelings and your feelings have nothing to do with it, it's all about what is best for him and our other kids.<br /><br /><b>How will it change your family?</b><br />We are trying to adjust to be "normal." What we consider normal has always been abnormal, so this is a change. Jason and I both noticed we are calmer parents and our kids are calmer. Everyone seems less stressed. Yesterday we went on an outing that we typically wouldn't be able to do with Dayton, and it was fabulous. I started crying when Layne looked up at me and told me that "this is the best day ever!" A little bit later when we were driving and Kayden said, "I don't miss Dayton." He was sad when he said that, I think because he thought that he should feel sad. I told him that it's ok not to miss him, because we will get to visit him and that Dayton is busy having fun too without us. It'll take time, but we'll adjust.<br /><br />If you made it to the bottom of this forever long post, I applaud you. I just needed to get this all out. I don't want to have to explain our reduced numbers to anyone, so here it all is, laid out for the world.<br /><br />Still have questions? E-mail or message me, I'll gladly answer them.<br />Hateful things to say? Get bent, go waste your time with someone else.<br />Educate others? Please share this. No one talks about things like this, therefore people going through it don't know anyone else going through this.<br /><br />As always, thank you for reading and following along!<br />-Nicole<br /><br />If you'd &nbsp;like to follow along with your daily dose of crazy, be sure to follow me on&nbsp;<a href="http://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos" target="_blank">Instagram</a>.Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-14392562229559382302017-02-10T15:51:00.000-06:002017-02-10T15:52:00.645-06:00When My Husband Pushed Me to an Uncomfortable Place<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eAbsKygPSNw/WJ41CV5dREI/AAAAAAAABjo/wSZWAZZHbr4XeCBwP0WL3kJV8WQVd6OUwCLcB/s1600/Image-1%2B%25289%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eAbsKygPSNw/WJ41CV5dREI/AAAAAAAABjo/wSZWAZZHbr4XeCBwP0WL3kJV8WQVd6OUwCLcB/s320/Image-1%2B%25289%2529.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><br />I've been staying home with the boys for coming up on three years, and blogging nearly as long. It's been equal parts trying, exhausting and fun.<br /><br />My blog has been my outlet for all things creative and social. I've connected with people that otherwise I would've never known. You, my readers, are my virtual social group of friends! Having that has helped my people person personality not go crazy while stuck in the four walls of our home, so I have to share something with you!<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Something crazy happened two weeks ago....</span><br /><br />My husband got a message from another woman (scandalous, I know!) and she propositioned him something. I had heard of people doing this type of thing, and rolled my eyes when he suggested that I try it.<br /><br />Curiosity peaked though a few days later when I received a package in the mail. So I gave it a try. HOLY BUCKETS! My eyes were opened to a whole new world!<br /><br />It started sort of rough, but the result was so smooth, my lips felt better and my eyes had a new glow. I knew I had to repeat this EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.<br /><br />Do you what to know what I got into thanks to my husband?<br /><br />{dramatic drum roll please}<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;">RODAN+FIELDS!!!</span>{imagine I just sang that to you in some beautiful Broadway like voice}<br /><br />I am beyond excited! The mystery woman was a local friend asking my husband if he wanted to get me some stuff for Valentine's Day. My husband, knowing all the complaints I've had about my skin knew the answer was yes.<br /><br />After my first night using the Micro-Dermabrasion Paste, Multi-Function Eye Cream and the Lip Renewing Serum I was hooked. Jason had mentioned me getting into being a consultant and I shrugged him off. I'm busy. I have four kids with a fifth on the way. I couldn't also be working!<br /><br />Then sitting at wrestling practice and talking to our friend, the idea seemed more doable. I didn't have to do parties, or meet a sales quota. I could work as little or as much as I wanted to. There was no inventory for me to keep. The positives just kept adding up....<br /><br />So I took the plunge and became a Consultant! {and the crowd goes wild!}<br /><br />I'm so thrilled. I'm also scared to death of failing or not giving everyone and everything the time they deserve, because I'm stretched a bit more. But I haven't felt this level of joy or purpose since I started staying home. I can contribute to the family income, but still be with the kids. I don't have to worry about maternity leave, because I'm in charge of my hours. I can do this!<br /><br />Here's the deal everyone reading this!<br /><br />I want you! I want you to try these amazing products! Whether you go for a full regime or you just want to try the Multi-Functional Eye Cream for your dark circles, puffiness and crow's feet; if you become my customer and place an order with me in the next two weeks, your name will go into a drawing for a FREE Lash Boost (hey that's like me giving you $150, wowzers)!!!<br /><br />Visit my&nbsp;<a href="https://snydernicole.myrandf.com/" target="_blank">site</a>, and shop around! Please <a href="mailto:nicolesnyder724@gmail.com" target="_blank">contact me</a>&nbsp;with any questions or to place your order! Now this is important to remember, when used correctly, all these products will last you at least 60 days! AND if you don't like the product, there is a 60 day money back guarantee!<br /><br />I'm excited to try more of the products I've heard so many wonderful things about! The Lash Boost that I'm going to give away does AMAZING things! Check out Sara's results! This is my Sponsor, she didn't photo shop this and I awkwardly stared at them during wrestling practice on more than one occasion, so I know it's real!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mDA01PeuX1I/WJ4yPFfbqLI/AAAAAAAABjQ/n9V9XWMoF4sqTLWNztXizJll5AqJXnejQCLcB/s1600/Sara%2BLash%2BBoost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mDA01PeuX1I/WJ4yPFfbqLI/AAAAAAAABjQ/n9V9XWMoF4sqTLWNztXizJll5AqJXnejQCLcB/s320/Sara%2BLash%2BBoost.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />I wouldn't have taken this leap in life if it wasn't for my husband pushing me to do it, and for that I am so grateful! So here is to a new chapter and bombshell skin!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1xZiRrtm7Ck/WJ4yPEYurRI/AAAAAAAABjU/xoqKbPap_lYcr9jmCsFpvZTHF1eBt4E7gCEw/s1600/4%2Bregimes.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1xZiRrtm7Ck/WJ4yPEYurRI/AAAAAAAABjU/xoqKbPap_lYcr9jmCsFpvZTHF1eBt4E7gCEw/s320/4%2Bregimes.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></div><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="color: #7c93a1; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div></div><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></div><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b></div></div><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></div><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span></div>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-85717148730036284672017-01-30T13:50:00.002-06:002017-01-30T13:52:06.133-06:00The Pregnancy Chronicles: 16 WeeksWith Jayce's pregnancy I updated the blog on all things pregnant lady every two weeks, no offense baby girl when you read this in 20 years, but that's not happening! I'm locking myself into an every month update until she arrives.<br /><div><br /></div><div><h2 style="text-align: center;"><b><u><span style="font-size: large;">The Pregnancy Chronicles</span></u></b></h2><div><b>How far along?</b></div><div>16&nbsp;weeks plus a day, but honestly I feel like I've been pregnant FOREVER! Something about finding out an entire week before your missed period makes it seem extra long!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Baby's size?</b></div><div>A dill pickle, an action figure or some weird rodent; but let's just stick with a pickle!&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Weight gain?</b></div><div>No clue, and honestly I plan on keeping it that way throughout my pregnancy. I stress on that shit, and I've decided out of all the irons I have in the fire, that is not one I need. So peace out scale! The nurse just laughs as I take off every (within reason) piece of clothing and shoes (even my flip flops) before backing up onto that dreaded machine!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Sick?</b></div><div>Over the last two weeks my nausea finally subsided and my headaches have tapered off. There are still some aversions though that send me over the edge; like when my husband tried to force feed me STORE BOUGHT PREPACKAGED guacamole! YUCK! It looked like baby shit and honestly it should be a sin to even sell guacamole in a sour cream looking container!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Current mood?</b></div><div>Yuck. Is that a mood? I feel like it can be. I'm just not myself. With my previous pregnancies, I was a dream! I wasn't really THAT moody (my mother and husband might disagree), and I felt great. This round I'm just a mess. I'm lacking every ounce of self-confidence that I typically have; my puberty like skin probably isn't helping things. I also have next to zero energy, it's like the first trimester is never ending.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Best moment this month?</b></div><div>Finding out that this little human was a girl! I'm still completely over the moon about it!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Purchases?</b></div><div>We got her car seat! We went with the Chicco Keyfit 30, because since I'll be having another c-section, I wanted something light!&nbsp;<i>Unfortunately</i>&nbsp;we sold most of our baby stuff after Jayce, so we are having to get new. Damn! Shucks! .......Yay! Let it rain pink and sparkles!!!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Cravings?</b></div><div>Sushi, pie and cereal! I've only given into the cereal though!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Movement?</b></div><div>My doctor can call my crazy, but I swear I've felt her since 13 weeks! Nothing crazy, but when I lay down at night she starts barrel rolling (or at least that's what it feels like). No, it isn't gas. I still don't understand how people confuse the two! I'm sure she'll start really kicking in the next couple weeks though!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Sleep?</b></div><div>I'm up once a night to pee, and eight million to deal with all my other non-sleeping children. I take naps nearly every day!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Missing anything?</b></div><div>This will make me sound like I have a problem, but I really want a beer. I don't want a case, just like 1-3! No, I'm not going to go buy some non-alcoholic junk, it's like decaf coffee, what's the point?! I'll just long for the first cold sip at the end of July!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Looking forward to.....</b></div><div>Our anatomy scan will be in the next month or so and that's my favorite! Until then, I feel like this little person is a mystery. Once I see that everything is healthy and doing what it's suppose to, my mind eases a bit!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Bump Picture:</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dNhf8sud30I/WI-XqAUXYII/AAAAAAAABis/6QiWVqqWieY9veODbkaFMjI2YiBoNSGogCLcB/s1600/IMG_2205%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dNhf8sud30I/WI-XqAUXYII/AAAAAAAABis/6QiWVqqWieY9veODbkaFMjI2YiBoNSGogCLcB/s320/IMG_2205%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="311" /></a></div><div>Girlfriend is lower than the boys ever were! But to be 100% honest, these bump shots are hard for me to take. I'm not "in love" with my pregnant self and my 12 chins (notice the phone placement) like people say you should be. I will document though, because it's unfair for her not to, and I know I will look back on these pictures and be thankful I gritted my teeth through them!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="color: #7c93a1; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span></span></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b><br /></b></span></div></div></div></div>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-2973989371435955292017-01-29T10:19:00.000-06:002017-01-29T10:20:09.397-06:00The Cure for Teen Pregnancy is Three Feet TallIn high school, I took a class where I had to carry around a robot baby for a week. It cried for the various needs it had and I had to take care of it by putting a key in it's back. Do you know what doesn't have a key in their back? A three year old!<br /><br />I think that teenagers should have to take care of a three year old for a few days! I'm sure the little one's parents are more than willing to take a break from their demanding child, and really, it's helping America!<br /><br />Three is a hard age. I want to pull my hair out at least every other minute of the day, and that only increases when we go out in public. Anyone who says that the twos are terrible, hasn't hit the threes yet!<br /><br />There are a few things that all teens would face during their "Threenager Time," none of which a key to their back will fix. {If someone would like to invent that though, I'll be the first customer!}<br /><br /><b>They don't give a fuck about anyone or anything.</b> Yes, they sometimes are very sweet and lovable, but they will also slice your throat, with their pretend kitchen knife, if you even think of cutting their food up. They also won't hesitate to flush random objects in the toilet to see what dad's reaction is to the flood.<br /><br /><b>Newborns sleep better than three year olds.</b>&nbsp;Newborns are hard, really freaking hard, we can all agree on that. We can also agree that feeding the baby, changing it's diaper or just holding the little bundle solves most of their middle of the night screaming. Threenagers talk, about their blankets falling off their bed, how they peed or why the sun isn't up yet. There aren't very many quick fixes for this, and it definitely results in crappy sleep for all parties involved!<br /><br /><b>Public places are their stage.</b>&nbsp;Taking an unruly three year old in public is sure to result in some sort of fit. If there is an audience, there will surely be show. My personal favorites are the spaghetti limbs in the middle of a parking lot resulting in carrying a screaming limp child over my shoulder or a continuous scream/cry combo that vibrates the ceiling tiles of Target and that doesn't stop until we leave and no one is watching.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ttUYAo1iOtA/WI4UeEXHQoI/AAAAAAAABiQ/rUUETE4qCAUN68xJsgOhOf8EUESoTe1qQCLcB/s1600/IMG_2149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ttUYAo1iOtA/WI4UeEXHQoI/AAAAAAAABiQ/rUUETE4qCAUN68xJsgOhOf8EUESoTe1qQCLcB/s320/IMG_2149.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br />Now you may ask yourself, "How can this stop teens for having babies?"<br /><br />Teenagers care about three things; their things, their sleep, and how they look in public. A threenager can squash all of those!<br /><br />So I currently have one available for loan to any parent who wants to teach their teenagers what doing the humpty hump actually results in!<br /><br /><br />Disclaimer: I love my children, I'd just like them not be assholes all the time. It's just a stage, yes. But if I said I hadn't Googled "threenager boarding schools," I'd be lying. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-boHj_rUgZeA/WI4UeLr8YqI/AAAAAAAABiU/svbAO-UkTjogKkWk1jRVV9NlJE0foFneACEw/s1600/image1%2B%25281%2529.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-boHj_rUgZeA/WI4UeLr8YqI/AAAAAAAABiU/svbAO-UkTjogKkWk1jRVV9NlJE0foFneACEw/s320/image1%2B%25281%2529.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></div><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></div><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="color: #7c93a1; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></div><br /><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span></div></div><br />Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-90667531155872271582017-01-20T20:00:00.000-06:002017-01-20T20:00:20.124-06:00The Last Member of Team Snyder is a.......Well hello from the hormonal roller-coaster I call pregnancy!<br /><br />This pregnancy has been rough on mama! I've had constant migraines, terrible acne and nonstop nausea. Basically I'm a walking hot crabby mess! Thankfully the hubs has been a rock star and has been picking up the slack!<br /><br />When I was at my OB appointment last week, he offered me the Harmony Test. It's a genetic test that tests for down syndrome and two other genetic disorders. I quickly refused, because we had refused genetic testing for the boys. Results of those tests wouldn't change anything for us. Then he mentioned how this test was just a blood test, and it also gave the gender with 99% accuracy.<br /><br /><br /><br />My ears perked up, and my grouchy attitude turned around. I could know the sex of the baby in 5-10 days without question?! Sign me up!<br /><br />The drew my blood and the wait began.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hc6f9FxImZg/WIKE9dV22lI/AAAAAAAABhc/ZoYvv_U5a2g9MduYWES6PoppGAOnpXPfQCLcB/s1600/IMG_1942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hc6f9FxImZg/WIKE9dV22lI/AAAAAAAABhc/ZoYvv_U5a2g9MduYWES6PoppGAOnpXPfQCLcB/s320/IMG_1942.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boy or Girl?! What would it be?!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Longest. Week. Ever.</span><br /><br />So here I sat on this Friday morning, not wanting to go into the weekend still not knowing, but also not wanting to bug the doctor's office. I decided they are getting paid to deal with annoying impatient people, my husband ---who's sick of hearing about the gender test--- doesn't get compensated, so I called!<br /><br />"Oh yeah, we've got your results in! Genetic abnormality risk is low, which is what you want."<br /><br />Yay! I'm glad to know things are healthy, but cut to the chase lady!<br /><br />"Do you want to know the sex?"<br /><br />Uhhh are you serious right now? Of course I do. It's the whole reason I did the test!<br /><br />"Are you sure?"<br /><br />Remind me to not bring treats to you next time I'm in, get to it already!<br /><br />"IT'S A LITTLE GIRL IN THERE!!!"<br /><br />I screamed in the car, scared the shit out of the boys and nearly crashed into a ditch! I also believe pink glitter, fingernail polish, Barbies, unicorns and tutus came falling down from the sky!<br /><br />OH EMM GEE!!!!!!!!!!!! I honestly never thought I'd get my girl! But looking at this pregnancy thus far, I'm not entirely surprised! She's already stamping her rule on this family and she isn't even here yet. My world revolves on the level of misery I feel each day, which I'm is here way of bringing me to my knees to take my role as Queen of the House. Girlfriend, if you would just let me feel better, it's all yours! Honestly, being the center of all the boys' attention is exhausting, I'm okay to share the limelight!<br /><br />The best thing I did after I got the news, I called my mom! I told her that I knew, but that she'd have to wait till tonight after I told the hubs to find out. I think if she could've reached through the phone and slapped me, she would've; and I loved it!<br /><br />Now for the record, the Middles have been saying all along that there's a baby girl in mama's belly. I think kids know this shit! They predicted Jayce as a brother too!<br /><br />I'm still in shock as I write this. I don't know how to dress a little girl or parent her. I'm afraid we won't wipe right and she'll get some sort of nasty infection. Or that she'll know more about the male anatomy than most little girls by the time preschool comes around. These are all rational fears that seasoned boy moms have when they finally get a girl, right?<br /><br />So below is how I told Jason about the new woman in his life! Nothing fancy! But the bathroom is always his first stop when he gets home, so it felt like the appropriate place to reveal to him. After all, they'll need to be considerate of another lady in the house and put the seat down!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GUoDVIplelo/WIKE989ocJI/AAAAAAAABh0/xc_Pd4rIvqIf4G-hU7kkN25yS2JDrl9NwCEw/s1600/IMG_1947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GUoDVIplelo/WIKE989ocJI/AAAAAAAABh0/xc_Pd4rIvqIf4G-hU7kkN25yS2JDrl9NwCEw/s320/IMG_1947.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k0Ih_6WyxOQ/WIKE9475v_I/AAAAAAAABhw/grFfiSofPCg0X7Wfz66jYNwDfkXKhylagCEw/s1600/IMG_1945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k0Ih_6WyxOQ/WIKE9475v_I/AAAAAAAABhw/grFfiSofPCg0X7Wfz66jYNwDfkXKhylagCEw/s320/IMG_1945.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxW6_nMsoUc/WIKE9dWtjDI/AAAAAAAABhk/PQXxEpdL0QwIHzWWbokRRJ6251JQjNhjgCEw/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%252855%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxW6_nMsoUc/WIKE9dWtjDI/AAAAAAAABhk/PQXxEpdL0QwIHzWWbokRRJ6251JQjNhjgCEw/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%252855%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zKxrbit6sC4/WIKE9k33iQI/AAAAAAAABho/eWEhj7eKkoEjegueum7YhvLDff8dzQPPQCEw/s1600/IMG_1943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zKxrbit6sC4/WIKE9k33iQI/AAAAAAAABho/eWEhj7eKkoEjegueum7YhvLDff8dzQPPQCEw/s320/IMG_1943.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those sparkly little shoes called my name today! Whether she ever wears them or not, she needed them!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oVub9HLhwnc/WIKE9iIkmFI/AAAAAAAABhs/xna9UVS09lwFeryonjQxwmmSV1XMbIEYACEw/s1600/IMG_1944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oVub9HLhwnc/WIKE9iIkmFI/AAAAAAAABhs/xna9UVS09lwFeryonjQxwmmSV1XMbIEYACEw/s320/IMG_1944.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-172jHV0LL6w/WIKE9UhTPrI/AAAAAAAABhg/J0x0dRDNfhYxA6Pici6VA55q11pn2qWcgCEw/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%252856%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-172jHV0LL6w/WIKE9UhTPrI/AAAAAAAABhg/J0x0dRDNfhYxA6Pici6VA55q11pn2qWcgCEw/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%252856%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Small odd shape balloon in the sink is courtesy of Kayden assisting in the blowing up of balloons!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s2AZR5nubl4/WIKE99JHwHI/AAAAAAAABh4/0z1DRRKl8e8Uv-4lL1z0Ac8UT-NhaJEdgCEw/s1600/IMG_1949.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s2AZR5nubl4/WIKE99JHwHI/AAAAAAAABh4/0z1DRRKl8e8Uv-4lL1z0Ac8UT-NhaJEdgCEw/s320/IMG_1949.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><br />Coming round the corner is finalizing her name! We already have a pretty good idea of it, just giving it some time to set in!<br /><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><div><b><br /></b></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"></span><br /><div style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot;;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="color: #7c93a1; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span></span><br /><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><div></div></span></div>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-60993081836081696982017-01-13T10:07:00.001-06:002017-01-13T10:07:39.676-06:00The Days When It's All Falling ApartSome weeks I crush this thing called Motherhood, other weeks, I'm excited everyone survived till bedtime without any major injuries.<br /><br />Lately, it's the latter.<br /><br />We've been busy. Super freaking busy. We've had doctor appointments, therapy days, wrestling practice, school drop-offs and pick-ups, PLUS a house to keep from falling down into a blaze of glory.<br /><br />Basically burning the candle at both ends repeatedly.<br /><br /><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aqqT9unE7Xk/WHj56DaTdEI/AAAAAAAABhE/NiBlcaOx5BcvPKsfd--lqf9LWDVz9WPGQCLcB/s1600/IMG_1723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aqqT9unE7Xk/WHj56DaTdEI/AAAAAAAABhE/NiBlcaOx5BcvPKsfd--lqf9LWDVz9WPGQCLcB/s320/IMG_1723.JPG" width="320" /></a>So today I sit here in my pajamas, on my kitchen floor "office" without a bra on and a mud mask on my face that scares my children, telling you real life happens to everyone. I'm a mess. I'm hoping by the time I get to the bottom of this cup of hot tea I'm chugging, I'll be right with the world- for today.<br /><br /><br />I've had weeks like this before, and currently I'm blaming these excruciating migraines I've been dealing with during this pregnancy. The thing about weeks like this, when the world seems to be falling apart at the seams, it turns around. It's not always like this, and that's what I'm currently clinging to, like how my children cling to my leg when I try to pee alone. Death grip.<br /><br />If you are reading this in your jammies with your mammaries free roaming while Googling "how to stop your children from being assholes," I see you. I am you. I possibly Googled that at 7:14am this morning while my youngest two were already fighting. But it will get better. It has to. If it didn't the human race wouldn't currently exist or kindergarten classes would only be filled with the biggest a-hole children who killed off everyone else.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0PZH98BA870/WHj56PD05BI/AAAAAAAABhA/Y1S2n_-ee5sib_Dil5X5kFFEIE687vy_gCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%252854%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0PZH98BA870/WHj56PD05BI/AAAAAAAABhA/Y1S2n_-ee5sib_Dil5X5kFFEIE687vy_gCLcB/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%252854%2529.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>This is how I'm rectifying the "life is falling apart" problem at the moment.<b> Low expectations</b>. If you follow me on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>&nbsp;and watch my stories, you know I gave myself three goals for today.<br /><br /><b>1. Don't leave the house or wear a bra. </b>(<i>check </i>and <i>check</i>)<br /><br /><b>2. Write a blog today</b>---this is my outlet in life and I needed to do something for me. (<i>check</i>)<br /><br /><b>3. Keep everyone alive. </b>(<i>currently in progress, touch and go at the moment</i>)<br /><br />I'm not hoping for miracles today. I don't expect for the children to be angels, everyone to eat the food I cook or to bedtime to go off without a hitch. But for TODAY, if &nbsp;I don't expect much, I can't get mad or stressed about what's not getting done, and I think that's been my problem lately. I've expected a lot from myself and family lately and have been losing my shit when it doesn't happen.<br /><br />Guess what? Tomorrow is a new day. It can be great, or just okay, and that's fine.<br /><br />Set yourself a goal today and stick to it! Leave me a comment and tell me what it is! I hold ya to it!<br /><br />I better go wash this mask off before my face falls off! Have a great day everyone!<br /><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><div><b><br /></b></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><div style="color: black; font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span></div><div><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b><br /></b></span></div></span></div><br />Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-82515417200997413972016-12-26T15:21:00.003-06:002016-12-26T15:21:57.722-06:00New in 2017 - The Time Has Come!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MufdJgVXdqw/WGGIU5kHGqI/AAAAAAAABgE/kTo4WUeEySgEwbXbBJLc_QMboikASCrkQCLcB/s1600/Announcement.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MufdJgVXdqw/WGGIU5kHGqI/AAAAAAAABgE/kTo4WUeEySgEwbXbBJLc_QMboikASCrkQCLcB/s320/Announcement.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">The time has come,<br />the world should know.<br />Our "little" family<br />has decided to grow!&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">July is the time<br />the baby is due.<br />Everyone has asked<br />will it be pink or will it be blue?&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">We don't really care,<br />and it sounds cliche,<br />but we just want everything<br />to go smooth and okay.&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Yes, it was planned.<br />There was no 'oops' to be had.<br />We love big families,<br />and being mom and dad.&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">No, there will be no more.<br />The factory will be done.<br />Five little faces is what we want,<br />they make our hearts overrun.&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Yes, we might be crazy,<br />and that we can accept.<br />But this our circus,<br />and we have become quite adept.&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">So we will take your well wishes,<br />and your words of joy!<br />We are ecstatic for this chapter,<br />and the new one we will get to enjoy!&nbsp;</blockquote><br />We had a lifestyle photo session with&nbsp;<a href="https://toribruno.photography/" target="_blank">Tori Bruno Photography</a>&nbsp;and that's when I told Jason that he was going to be a father of five! These photos make me laugh hysterically! I was expecting a "wow" reaction, and instead I got a "Oh, ok. Cool!" But I love these so much!<br /><br />Also, this whole pregnancy thing has me exhausted and nauseous; and that's why my blog has been slacking! Please forgive me!<br /><br />Be sure you are following me over on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>&nbsp;so you don't miss any of the craziness that this pregnancy is sure to offer!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yJVLMDsxGho/WGGGO8qTJcI/AAAAAAAABfk/UsHbbDjj8vMXq48jbQpRLfJhxpZ3rT77wCLcB/s1600/Love-83.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yJVLMDsxGho/WGGGO8qTJcI/AAAAAAAABfk/UsHbbDjj8vMXq48jbQpRLfJhxpZ3rT77wCLcB/s320/Love-83.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iciGolG91QI/WGGGQLJ0f8I/AAAAAAAABfs/9oJPQsxtVmQqA9aL-GsgQ_j2XIFet00wgCLcB/s1600/Love-85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iciGolG91QI/WGGGQLJ0f8I/AAAAAAAABfs/9oJPQsxtVmQqA9aL-GsgQ_j2XIFet00wgCLcB/s320/Love-85.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jd9tnYn3Xwo/WGGGPkbCczI/AAAAAAAABfo/gefuaXEluDMS-j4ZTOWuBMxZ8FencyXrgCLcB/s1600/Love-87.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jd9tnYn3Xwo/WGGGPkbCczI/AAAAAAAABfo/gefuaXEluDMS-j4ZTOWuBMxZ8FencyXrgCLcB/s320/Love-87.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lIw6-UPb3J0/WGGGSNG4-VI/AAAAAAAABfw/m9p-yaYXM44GlkqKN2iWSlXOS04F0E44ACLcB/s1600/Love-88.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lIw6-UPb3J0/WGGGSNG4-VI/AAAAAAAABfw/m9p-yaYXM44GlkqKN2iWSlXOS04F0E44ACLcB/s320/Love-88.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AqFBFmQ2fnc/WGGGTTL68cI/AAAAAAAABf0/D9SJ0L3psYApkZem3-Q8yCObJ5XpkwY-gCLcB/s1600/Love-89.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AqFBFmQ2fnc/WGGGTTL68cI/AAAAAAAABf0/D9SJ0L3psYApkZem3-Q8yCObJ5XpkwY-gCLcB/s320/Love-89.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3_DAAj374m0/WGGGTt0O6TI/AAAAAAAABf4/v3DOdnCMDDY-n8vTKH5FSw-T-hwc97krwCLcB/s1600/Love-90.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3_DAAj374m0/WGGGTt0O6TI/AAAAAAAABf4/v3DOdnCMDDY-n8vTKH5FSw-T-hwc97krwCLcB/s320/Love-90.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZWDlNXZSKeY/WGGGLAyiPTI/AAAAAAAABfc/cWHiCK_COb4RsQcRCjmL0D9ZrEE8VxBtgCLcB/s1600/Love-101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZWDlNXZSKeY/WGGGLAyiPTI/AAAAAAAABfc/cWHiCK_COb4RsQcRCjmL0D9ZrEE8VxBtgCLcB/s320/Love-101.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HQReBnNYkCY/WGGGKpDhOJI/AAAAAAAABfY/tgcAArEb5FsEKqm2rFklethw9QMSEPK5wCLcB/s1600/Love-103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HQReBnNYkCY/WGGGKpDhOJI/AAAAAAAABfY/tgcAArEb5FsEKqm2rFklethw9QMSEPK5wCLcB/s320/Love-103.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-13689884023826537242016-11-27T17:29:00.004-06:002016-11-27T17:29:54.216-06:00I Blame My Parent's Divorce: Holiday EditionDivorce is ugly. It's the ending of what was suppose to be a lifelong commitment. Some kids have to experience divorce as a young child where all decisions are made for them. Others experience it as a teenager or adult and are able to voice their feelings and opinions. I unfortunately fell into the first category.&nbsp;<div><br /></div><div>I've said it before, I'm thankful my parents decided to divorce. They were a hot mess together and are much better apart. I was five when they divorced. I am one of those 'survivor' types of personalities. I fight through the tough times and appear to everyone to "adapt well." to changes.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Truth is, being subjected to my parent's divorce as a young child has had a long lasting impression on me. It causes me to do things instinctively without even realizing why. It wasn't until I was recently defending my choices that I had a self-realization.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I'm a holiday traditions psycho.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>It's true.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I was little I would be shuffled from one gathering to the next. I'd spend an hour, MAYBE two at one house before rushing off to the next. A typical Thanksgiving or Christmas would have me traveling from 4-6 different family events, PLUS doing something with my mom and then my dad.</div><div><br /></div><div>There would be arguments about who got me for what and what time. Dirty looks got shot across cold parking lots when the other party was late for the transfer of the merchandise (me).</div><div><br /></div><div>I was always jealous of my friends who would talk about the fun they had during the holidays. The games they played and how everyone was at their house. I only knew drive, say hi, eat, then repeat.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I got older, I still felt that I had to hold to those commitments. I had to make every part of my family happy with my presence.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jason and I started dating and that only intensified our duty to run around like chickens with our heads cut off. We would have to miss a few places, only because there was so much overlap, but we worked it into a rotation. It was hectic, but doable.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then kids came into play. Layne was 5 days old when he attended his first Thanksgiving. It was horrible. We had a 3 year old, 1 year old and a newborn. We were functioning on zero sleep. We didn't enjoy a moment of the gathering as we were trying to wrangle our children from tearing the house down. I don't even think I ate a meal.</div><div><br /></div><div>That was the final straw.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I was done.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>We don't go anywhere for the holidays now. We've adopted the motto, "If you want to see us, come to us."</div><div><br /></div><div>It sounds selfish, I know. For the last two years I've used the kids as an excuse. We didn't want to take a little baby out in the cold or Dayton got too worked up in a new environment with lots of people. Both of the reasons were valid. But the realization I've had is:</div><div><br /></div><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="font-size: large;">I never got to just hang out and enjoy everything that the holidays had to offer or have set family traditions, and I don't want that for my kids. I want them to look back on the holidays with joy and happiness, not chaotic interstate travels.</span></blockquote>So I'm sorry we aren't coming over for the holidays, and that we missed seeing you. Maybe we can get together at another time, but the holidays are for my kids and our little family. We are building memories and maintaining traditions. I hope you can understand the importance of this for us.<br /><br />And to the families that run around like crazy people during the holidays, if it doesn't sit well in your stomach, stop. You can't make everyone happy all the time. You have to do what is best for you and your family, not everyone else. And if that means that you order take-out on Christmas Eve and kids go to bed at the regular bed time, that's fine!<br /><br />I hope you all had a joyous Thanksgiving and are celebrating Christmas in a few weeks in the best way you know how to! Make those memories!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hnWo1j3uJPs/WDtsKvdLwyI/AAAAAAAABe0/s3juKgok48AEaFFpb35oth0Ih3tDe3LYQCLcB/s1600/Love-49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hnWo1j3uJPs/WDtsKvdLwyI/AAAAAAAABe0/s3juKgok48AEaFFpb35oth0Ih3tDe3LYQCLcB/s320/Love-49.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/ToriBrunoPhotography" target="_blank">Tori Bruno Photography</a></td></tr></tbody></table><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span><br /><br />Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-36391214123968793732016-11-15T17:06:00.001-06:002016-11-15T17:06:22.790-06:00No Worries, He Weaned Before Kindergarten A funny thing happens when you are a breastfeeding mother. Once your child gets out of the newborn stage people that have no stake in raising your child feel the need to ask questions or give their opinion.<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="font-size: large;">"How much longer are you planning on nursing?"</span></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="font-size: large;">"He has teeth now. Clearly you need to be done breastfeeding!"</span></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="font-size: large;">"If he can ask for it (or sign), then he's too old."</span></blockquote><br />My response to all of these types of comments throughout Jayce and I's nursing relationship was that it wasn't anyone else's business. We were doing what was right for us and what worked. I was the one that dealt with the broken nights of sleep for over a year, unknowingly flashed people my breasts while trying to feed a ravenous baby and put up with the looks and judgement.<br /><br />Luckily for me I had a husband who was extremely supportive and family that knew better than to question my mothering decisions.<br /><br />Something happened when Jayce was about 14 months old. He went from nursing like a newborn every 2 hours to only nursing 3-4 times a day. Then it became less and less. He stopped nursing to go to bed and then stopped for nap. The next thing I knew it had been 48 hours since he had nursed.<br /><br />Once we hit that two day mark I was sure he was done for good. Then he asked for "more milk please" or rather signed for it, and I gave in. I figured that if he was asking for it then he still needed me.<br /><br />Our new routine became every couple days. My engorged breasts deflated like someone poked a balloon with a needle and let all the air run out, as my body adjusted to what he needed from me, which was very little sustenance and just more comfort.<br /><br />A few weeks ago I realized we had gone an entire week without him asking to nurse. At that point I decided we were done completely. I had really nothing left to give and I was fine with the fact that our 17 month journey was over, he seemed fine with it too.<br /><br />Now he gets to participate in some fun things I wouldn't let him do before, like overnight trips to grandma's house on the ranch, which he loves!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LhirUP2Sbrs/WCuTpD_UG0I/AAAAAAAABeU/vfm7ePooF6sORU0VQ7RnOrqXBMJTqVWtQCLcB/s1600/IMG_0226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LhirUP2Sbrs/WCuTpD_UG0I/AAAAAAAABeU/vfm7ePooF6sORU0VQ7RnOrqXBMJTqVWtQCLcB/s320/IMG_0226.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little cowboy!</td></tr></tbody></table>We didn't have a timeline as to how long our breastfeeding journey would last. We didn't follow other people's rules and expectations. We did our own thing!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFSz2Dlu_Eg/WCuUS2VGG1I/AAAAAAAABeY/RxYTIewURWIPwEx2PRmiLdgkp9X-UsFdACLcB/s1600/IMG_9788.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lFSz2Dlu_Eg/WCuUS2VGG1I/AAAAAAAABeY/RxYTIewURWIPwEx2PRmiLdgkp9X-UsFdACLcB/s320/IMG_9788.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was our last nursing session, at 5:30am. It's grainy as hell, but I had a feeling this would be our last moment in our journey. I look tired, and he looks annoyed with the camera!</td></tr></tbody></table>I will never judge a nursing mom for how long she chooses to nurse her baby or toddler again. I was 'taboo' for going past 12 months, and received all sorts of judgement for that. But to anyone that was concerned, no worries, he weaned before kindergarten!<br /><br /><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-66190087719414434862016-11-06T21:10:00.001-06:002016-11-06T21:10:13.065-06:00Sorry to Burst Your Bubble; It DOESN'T Get Easier!There was that moment when the baby wasn't sleeping at the night or when the toddler was melting down on the floor of the grocery store and some well intentioned person said, "It'll get easier!"<br /><br />That little quote has been my internal mantra for nearly the last 3 1/2 years while raising my 4 boys under the age of 7.<br /><br />Sleepless night; it'll get easier.<br /><br />Piles of laundry; it'll get easier.<br /><br />Dinner all over the floor; it'll get easier.<br /><br />Toddler meltdown; it'll get easier.<br /><br />I'm sorry to burst every one's bubble...<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">But.....</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">It doesn't!</span><br /><br />I'm not a "pro parent" by any means, but parenting doesn't&nbsp;<i>get easier</i>. In recent weeks I've realized that it just evolves. One hard things morphs into another hard thing!<br /><br /><b><u>Sleepless Nights</u></b><br />Newborns are honestly SO much work! And I was convinced once I got everyone sleeping through the night I'd be guaranteed blissful uninterrupted hours at night! NOPE! Once I got the baby sleeping at night we started to have the toddler waking up to pee; which actually is just him telling me that he pissed the bed.<br /><i>*knock knock*</i><br />"What's wrong buddy?"<br />"Oh I just peed. I'll go sleep in the dry spot."<br /><i>---</i>clearly waking me wasn't necessary, but no worries. It'll only take me 49 minutes to go back to sleep---<i>*eye roll*</i><br /><i><br /></i><b><u>The Baby Won't Self-Entertain</u></b><br />As much as I loved itty bitty baby snuggles, there were moments that I would've liked to lay him down without fussing; cooking dinner, peeing, or keeping my other kids from killing each other. Now I realize that the whole "self-entertain" idea is dumb and I would've never wished this upon myself. Self-entertaining is; playing in the toilet water that someone forgot to flush, flipping the light switch like we are at a rave, or taking off every stitch of clothing only to pee on the floor while playing in the stream. Clearly this entertains him, but not me in the slightest!<br /><br /><b><u>Meal Times</u></b><br />I looked forward to the days when we would be done with "baby food." It would be SO much easier because everyone would be eating the same thing, etc. etc.<br />Oh but now, in order to avoid a scene out of Saving Private Ryan, we have to be sure that everyone has the same number of things (I'm regretting teaching them to count), nothing is accidentally ripped/torn, food doesn't touch, sauces are available and there are enough extras that everyone can have some...even though they will be "full" immediately after it is placed on their plate.<br /><br /><b><u>Toddler Meltdowns</u></b><br />Yes, my kids still have meltdowns. I've realized though that they are changing. Now, when kids learn how to express their emotions, they like to "use their words." And holy hell can they use those effectively! "Mom! It makes me VERY angry you took my toy away. I was just trying to brush his hair with the (toy) hammer. Maybe you should go take a timeout for taking my toy! It's not nice to take toys!"<br />Maybe you should stop being an asshole to your brother, just a thought.<br /><br /><b><u>Diapers</u></b><br />With every child and every diaper change I've always wished, hoped and prayed for everyone to learn to shit in the potty. I now take that all back! I think life would be easier if we were all still in diapers. I mean today I cleaned the bathrooms for the week. It still smelled like fucking glorious bleach when I heard, "Uhhh mom I peed all over the floor. I got to busy and it just came out in front of the toilet."<br />---17 minutes after cleaning it up---<br />"Mommy (different child), I didn't make it in the water. I painted the wall with pee though."<br />---an hour later, bleach smell is still present---<br />"Mom I pooped, please wipe my butt. (child is bent over) Mom, there's poop on the bottom of the toilet!"<br />For fucks sake children! This is why we can't have nice things or have people come over to our house. No matter how much I clean, it still smells like a porta potty!<br /><br />This parenting gig is tough as hell, but you've got this! I'm going to clean the fecal matter off of a toilet again!<br /><br />I'm sure there are a zillion different things that evolve but never actually get "easier." Leave me a comment and tell me what has changed for you and share this with a friend! Give someone else a smile at my misery!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZA8w0Ibi_i4/WB_uIut9bwI/AAAAAAAABds/C1WQQkKC0Ak-sQYMuqUXcB7YD4DNuJW1ACLcB/s1600/IMG_9507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZA8w0Ibi_i4/WB_uIut9bwI/AAAAAAAABds/C1WQQkKC0Ak-sQYMuqUXcB7YD4DNuJW1ACLcB/s320/IMG_9507.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Self-entertaining gone array....</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-90324609073332529952016-10-30T21:18:00.003-05:002016-10-30T21:18:46.752-05:00The 3 Stages of Mama Bear Warnings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When a mother has a child she not only gains a new little person to love, but she also grows a second self; a Mama Bear.&nbsp;</div><br />Mama Bear is there to protect that little human from everything in the world that might hurt it in any way.<br /><br />No one can ever actually see this self, but there are times when she makes her presence known. I'm sure you've seen one before, I know mine has made it's appearance more than once.<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">There was the one time I walked into daycare and saw my baby laying in the crib screaming with tears running down his cheeks.&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Or when someone fed my baby something that was known to give him a bad diaper rash.&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">And that time I watched my son fall on the playground and eat rocks while staff members just chatted among themselves.</blockquote><br />But I reined her in, put her on a leash and told her to have a glass of wine and chill out.<br /><br />I try to keep her tucked away in that deep dark cave tethered to the wall. And she tries to poke her nose out every once in awhile; but she quickly gets reprimanded and put back in her place!<br /><br />But Mama Bear can only hold back for so long before that rope gives way and she comes flying out of that cave with rage in her eyes.<br /><br />Mama Bear can be a bitch when the situation calls for it. I like to think that she has three stages of protection!<br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><b><u><span style="font-size: large;">A Claw Rub to the Shoulder</span></u></b>&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">She's being nice. She's hoping this firm shoulder rub during an informal meeting will help you to check yourself. She's giving you the benefit of the doubt, and constantly checks for understanding. She's hoping that this subtle approach will sink in.</blockquote><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Claw Slapped</span></u></b>&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Metaphorically speaking; Mama Bear just slapped the shit out of you hoping to knock some damn sense into you. You've somehow done something that truly impacted her baby. You are at fault. You can think she's crazy, but really she's defending her family. She's giving you a stern warning. Back off. Get it together.&nbsp;</blockquote><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Mauling Mama</span></u></b>&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">It's on like donkey kong! Full blown outrage at this point. She got a taste of blood, her teeth sunk in and she's going to tear you limb for limb. She's going for the jugular. Watch out. At this point you are probably regretting all of the shitty choices you've made up to this point. But that little person she was created to help to thrive and survive is her priority; not your feelings.</blockquote><br />There are a whole host of reasons that a mother's alter ego can break out of hibernation; child care issues, school problems, health concerns, etc. But one thing is true, as mothers we are designed to have this side of us for a reason. We are to protect our kids, in whatever way that means. That gut feeling that tells you that Mama Bear needs to break out is there for a reason!<br /><br />To anyone on the receiving end of this, steer clear. There is no winning when you've in some way hurt someone's child. You can apologize, and should, but do not for a moment think that Mama Bear will forget this moment. That crazy bitch remembers everything, and she'll recall it for you if you need her to!<br /><br />Oh and if you want to keep up to date on my own personal Mama Bear saga, be sure to stay up to date over on my&nbsp;<a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a>! As much as I wish for dull days.....this upcoming week should be interesting!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bFZAmCmDCY8/WBam-S186II/AAAAAAAABdM/3VAtCaP_YzU8Xqrxl-btYGIAmHZg86iDwCEw/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%252853%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bFZAmCmDCY8/WBam-S186II/AAAAAAAABdM/3VAtCaP_YzU8Xqrxl-btYGIAmHZg86iDwCEw/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%252853%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are Kayden and I's "don't mess with us" faces!</td></tr></tbody></table><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-38028669245252611302016-10-20T16:49:00.000-05:002016-10-20T16:52:06.521-05:00Parenting Survival ToolboxI feel like I'm sorta cheating on my audience by keeping a few secrets from you, like all of my favorite things!!! No worries people, no one is paying me a dime to tell you this---actually I wish someone would pay me! With that being said, I'm sharing these&nbsp;<i>secrets</i>&nbsp;without any other motive!<br /><br />Are you ready to hear how I survive being in a house with 4 boys 6 and under?!<br /><br /><b><u>Compression Socks</u></b><br />No, I am not 80. Yes, my blood is a flowin'! I discovered compression socks when I was 19 and had to wear them for a surgery. I stuck them in a drawer, never to look back! Then when I got pregnant with Layne I became a "sweller," and pretty much have been ever since. A potato chip makes me puffy! Cue the compression socks! They are like yoga pants for my calves, ankles and feet. If you haven't tried them, you are missing out! I just Amazon Primed {yes, I made that a verb} a six pack of awesomeness!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jFSXaqmgnqg/WAk6FqlmxcI/AAAAAAAABcA/-pOI4gR_LXkPV8Rl0R9E1YgvoktZAZAmQCLcB/s1600/IMG_9113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jFSXaqmgnqg/WAk6FqlmxcI/AAAAAAAABcA/-pOI4gR_LXkPV8Rl0R9E1YgvoktZAZAmQCLcB/s320/IMG_9113.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Yes, yes I do!</td></tr></tbody></table><b><u>Kidloland (iOS or Android)</u></b><br />PEOPLE! Run and download this glorious app on whatever device you allow your kids be on! We are strictly a "PBS content" type of family, so I was skeptical about the content of this. Well it totally impressed me!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wnHx025Apik/WAk6VtUTN9I/AAAAAAAABcE/RBxq-Csvjj09ZNDK3ZTFKQhNIi2w6Fw8wCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%252849%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wnHx025Apik/WAk6VtUTN9I/AAAAAAAABcE/RBxq-Csvjj09ZNDK3ZTFKQhNIi2w6Fw8wCLcB/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%252849%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HnXxMIRvrdE/WAk6V4t4SmI/AAAAAAAABcM/6HSKhxQO0m4ljkSxJTBopEoD1Q7MckoXQCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%252851%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HnXxMIRvrdE/WAk6V4t4SmI/AAAAAAAABcM/6HSKhxQO0m4ljkSxJTBopEoD1Q7MckoXQCLcB/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%252851%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />It has nursery rhymes, stories that can be read to them or read independently, phonics, interactive educational games, and literally SO much more! It keeps my 2 year old occupied on those morning (ok, every morning) when he is up before I've managed to guzzle my first cup of coffee! Oh and my 4 year old that hates "working" at home, LOVES the phonics section of it! This is completely mom approved!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tCNoHVaZV38/WAk6VyCQX8I/AAAAAAAABcI/XgaItwHKHy8kX_7NC5une04xAx243uuiQCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%252852%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tCNoHVaZV38/WAk6VyCQX8I/AAAAAAAABcI/XgaItwHKHy8kX_7NC5une04xAx243uuiQCLcB/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%252852%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><u><br /></u></b><b><u>Spin Again</u></b><br />We got this from a relative for Jayce's first birthday and it honestly is the best toy we've ever owned. Every single one of my kids play with it and they will even,&nbsp;<i>*gasp*</i>&nbsp;play together nicely with it. If you are looking for one of those elusive gifts for a little one, throw your money at this! You won't regret it, I promise! ......also if the recipients have hardwood floors, it'll provide another gift! Lots and lots of sounds!<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><img alt="Fat Brain Toys Spin Again Toy Baby" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/31jR%2BJdsMbL.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit to Fat Brain Toys</td></tr></tbody></table><b><u>Dry Shampoo</u></b><br />I didn't know what dry shampoo was until I was a mom, and then I saw on all of these mom groups people raving about it! I set out on a search for this magical spray that would be made up of unicorn sprinkles and fairy dust and allow me to look like I didn't just spray my hair down with vegetable oil and then throw baby powder in it!<br /><br />Well I'm on a strictly Target like budget and have no room for "fancy" brands. Search no more, Batiste Dry Shampoo for the win! I found it at&nbsp;<a href="http://www.target.com/p/batiste-original-clean-dry-shampoo-6-7oz/-/A-16986876" target="_blank">Target</a>&nbsp;for six bucks and haven't looked back! You can get it in different scents and colors, AND it actually comes out of the can DRY! Who would've guessed! Every other&nbsp;<i>dry</i>&nbsp;shampoo I've tried came out wet, which made no sense to me!<br /><br /><b><u>Yoyoboko Chore Chart</u></b><br />I always set out with good intentions of following through with chore charts and rewards, and I always fail! It just becomes such a pain to keep track! THEN I found&nbsp;<a href="http://www.yoyoboko.com/" target="_blank">this</a>&nbsp;beauty of a chart! It's magnetic, is available for two or four kids, and has a boatload of pre-printed chore options. Plus you are able to customize it easily.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D6-Vl6jRHEg/WAk6t9CQq9I/AAAAAAAABcQ/1DjnCVjF2uc_rl8PdT_ckIKT44zM3BksQCLcB/s1600/IMG_9117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D6-Vl6jRHEg/WAk6t9CQq9I/AAAAAAAABcQ/1DjnCVjF2uc_rl8PdT_ckIKT44zM3BksQCLcB/s320/IMG_9117.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />Now I was going to use this for the boys to get rewards for helping out, being independent and going above and beyond (which it can still do that). But after some recent events in our house (if you follow me on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>&nbsp;you are aware of these), I realized my kids need to learn how to be humans and not savage beasts again.&nbsp;<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Yoyoboko-Magnetic-Responsibility-Behavior-Children/dp/B0176G22JW" target="_blank">Yoyoboko Chore Chart</a>&nbsp;to save&nbsp;<strike>my sanity</strike>, the week! The kids are working to earn back their toys that the evil trash bag took from them! So far, so good!<br /><br />I know a lot of bloggers out there are trying to push projects, because they get a cut of it, and that is awesome! Unfortunately for me, but fortunately for you; that's not me! I'm not making a dime from divulging all of my secrets to you! I literally am just trying to help a parent out! So go and get on with your compression socks wearing, app downloading, toy buying, dry shampoo spraying, chore chart self! And maybe some wine drinking, I always think that helps!<br /><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-910674301529479742016-10-12T14:59:00.003-05:002016-10-12T14:59:34.986-05:00On the Days I Wonder "What If"Everyone does it. It's normal. Something happens or your mind is too quiet or too loud and you think, what if?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4pbVyUNC8VA/V_6VCv__ujI/AAAAAAAABbo/snlLvSclv0ou5q8_2B9j1RNvKOnqG0xqgCLcB/s1600/valas.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="309" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4pbVyUNC8VA/V_6VCv__ujI/AAAAAAAABbo/snlLvSclv0ou5q8_2B9j1RNvKOnqG0xqgCLcB/s320/valas.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />I tend to think this when we have really good days and on really tough days.<br /><br />What if we hadn't struggled with infertility?<br />What if we hadn't gone into foster care?<br />What if I hadn't answered the phone and said yes when we got the call for the boys?<br />What if they had gone back to their biological parents?<br />What if we hadn't had a miscarriage after Layne?<br />What if we decided to not try again?<br /><br />And all of those "what ifs" bring tears to my eyes. There was pain and fear behind every single one of those. There was also the unknown of what was to come or what could've been.<br /><br />For the first time ever {and I feel terrible admitting this} I recently enjoyed my entire family all at the same time doing the same activity, and it put all of those "what ifs" out the window.<br /><br />We took the boys to the pumpkin patch, it's our yearly tradition, and we played and snacked and laughed and ran and then played some more. Everyone was smiling and everyone was having fun, even me!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C5uR8GaNuF8/V_6QDNYjRUI/AAAAAAAABbY/zfWz_nfY7rQ0BF-kGZf7XngwuEswJxODgCEw/s1600/DSC04144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C5uR8GaNuF8/V_6QDNYjRUI/AAAAAAAABbY/zfWz_nfY7rQ0BF-kGZf7XngwuEswJxODgCEw/s400/DSC04144.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because happy jumps don't focus!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fR-z5LC47Fo/V_6QWEULXAI/AAAAAAAABbY/oZOjbc-FhGAn7mImD8_VRrGXTLAoB8QXACEw/s1600/DSC04166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fR-z5LC47Fo/V_6QWEULXAI/AAAAAAAABbY/oZOjbc-FhGAn7mImD8_VRrGXTLAoB8QXACEw/s400/DSC04166.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Or joyful slide rides!</td></tr></tbody></table>Typically I'm forced into <i>mothering</i>&nbsp;the whole crew; diaper changes, snacks, disciplining, etc. And although all of that happened, it was not a "job" for the first time in my parenting career. The kids were <i>*gasp*</i>&nbsp;EASY! It never happens but it made our day magical! I rode the big slide with the middles, Jason and I chased all four of the boys around in a giant foam ball room, and then I jumped on the bouncing pillows with them.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WKufB1B-sHs/V_6P4h7CLJI/AAAAAAAABbY/lKByl9K4Yb8yHCZF9FLOHgvDWmUF5N09QCEw/s1600/DSC04135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WKufB1B-sHs/V_6P4h7CLJI/AAAAAAAABbY/lKByl9K4Yb8yHCZF9FLOHgvDWmUF5N09QCEw/s400/DSC04135.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iA836eOQHYE/V_6QbZN14vI/AAAAAAAABbY/dtXnhMaPAGcgeyeSkOewi5dopfvvfYhTQCEw/s1600/DSC04190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iA836eOQHYE/V_6QbZN14vI/AAAAAAAABbY/dtXnhMaPAGcgeyeSkOewi5dopfvvfYhTQCEw/s400/DSC04190.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad assisted on the obstacle course!</td></tr></tbody></table>It warmed my heart beyond belief that we were all together and present in the moment. I now realize &nbsp;that all of the headaches, struggles and heartaches we have gone through was to bring us to this point. Those big blind leaps of faith we had to take early on put us on this path that we are on now, and it is right where we are suppose to be.<br /><br />So to anyone struggling with making tough life decisions, follow your gut and take the leap! You are sure to land on your own path that was meant just for you!<br /><br />And as for me as a blogger, things are going to be changing up a bit! I taking a step into something new and praying I don't fail! Be on the look out soon for some fun stuff, I might even be able to help you Christmas shop for the women in your life!<br /><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span><br /><br />Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-37000833234348399912016-10-03T21:11:00.001-05:002016-10-03T21:11:05.935-05:00To The Mom On the Day Your Kid Loses Their Sh*t in PublicHey mom over there at the grocery store whose kid is screaming while throwing groceries out of out of your cart! Oh and the mom whose child is screaming, "Don't beat me," while they run from you in the parking lot. Let's not forget that mom of the kid that just sat down in the crosswalk screaming they can no longer walk. I see you, because I've been you....more than once!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OlC00afpeqk/V_MOizoKsfI/AAAAAAAABZU/wP43K124CxgVBoDZx3lBP1WKRnJLJeKhgCLcB/s1600/IMG_7626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OlC00afpeqk/V_MOizoKsfI/AAAAAAAABZU/wP43K124CxgVBoDZx3lBP1WKRnJLJeKhgCLcB/s320/IMG_7626.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please note the lady smiling in the background, she gets the struggle!</td></tr></tbody></table>But I have to tell you something, it's ok! I know you are sweating. Inside you are screaming every curse word under the sun and you might even contemplate leaving them there screaming their heads off in hopes that some nice old lady will take them for a few hours and feed them something other than hot dogs and chicken nuggets.<br /><br />In reality though, every person around you that has had or been around a child before knows that this happens. Your irrational, probably overtired, maybe hangry offspring is acting like kids do some days. No one cares. And no worries, the grumpy old man, that has never been around kids before and is stuck back in 1949, who IS judging you and giving you the side eye, I'm sure my kid will kick him in the shins when we walk by!<br /><br />I say this because this could be me or any other mom any day of the week, including maybe tomorrow.<br /><br />My "day" of all days was the other day at the zoo. My four year old ran from me more times than I could count. He wouldn't listen to a word I said. When I peeled him off the playground set and took him to the bathroom, he screamed to every person we past, "Please don't spank me! I'll go to time out instead!" An innocent mom got a dirt clot thrown at her, and an elderly woman got hit with a stick.<br /><br />Then there was the moment that my almost three year old disappeared only for me to find him on the zoo's train tracks waving to the train that had just departed. I about died!<br /><br />We went home, survived till bed time, and then restarted from scratch the next day.<br /><br />Being a parent is a tough, thankless job most days, and some days you cry because you are so stressed! But stop worrying about what everyone that sees your crazy is thinking. If I saw you, I'd buy you a coffee, give you a hug and smack your ass, because you've got this girl!<br /><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span><br /><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b><br /></b></span></div>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-91726750015951237532016-09-26T21:42:00.000-05:002016-09-26T22:01:39.637-05:00Chronicles of a Reluctant HippieI've preached and preached and preached about how I'm anti-crunchy, anti-hippie and pro everything that's suppose to be bad for you. I mean did you ever read&nbsp;<a href="http://www.myunfilteredchaos.com/2016/01/im-not-crunchyjust-cheap-lazy.html" target="_blank">I'm Not Crunchy....Just Cheap &amp; Lazy</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<a href="http://www.myunfilteredchaos.com/2014/09/i-hate-all-natural-parenting.html" target="_blank">I Hate "All Natural" Parenting</a>.....let me eye roll myself! Now I still stand by what I said before, because I wasn't then who I am now. I wasn't the mom I am now.<br /><br />But something happened on Saturday, and I'm embarrassed! I hit that pinnacle of crunchy, hippie mom-ness that ushers in SO many different things!<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;">I USED COCONUT OIL ON MY FACE!</span><br /><br />If you follow me on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>&nbsp;you saw this on my story (and if you don't, get with the program and follow that shit)!!! But for those of you that missed it, I'll explain.<br /><br />I'm THE hairiest person on the planet! I mean I feel like it was pre-wax days, I'd be some sort of side show freak! I was doing my weekly maintenance on the brows when I got wax in my eyebrow. I panicked! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?! Well I broke out a jar of coconut oil and it took the wax off. But I didn't stop there. I rubbed it all over my damn face. It felt freaking amazing! A few hours later I FaceTimed my mom while I was make-up free, and she said, "Wow you look great!" Guys, it was that freaking coconut oil!<br /><br />So here I stand. Holding up my hippie flag, and wondering if I get like a hemp necklace as some sort of covert signal to all of the hippie moms of the world that I am on their team now?<br /><br />This wasn't done overnight though. Reaching this level of hippie-ness has taken some time.<br /><br />It started with <span style="font-size: large;">breastfeeding</span> Jayce. And surprisingly it worked, unlike my first attempt with Layne. And here I stand now an "extended breastfeeding" mom! Let me pick my jaw up off the ground now, because I can't believe I just admitted that! He's 16 months now and will wean by the time he goes to college I'm sure!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iZHE_5gdw4o/V-nbemCs5uI/AAAAAAAABYE/rglRuVkCgCAJ6mJWfAeNP6DWcMMocccJQCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%252848%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iZHE_5gdw4o/V-nbemCs5uI/AAAAAAAABYE/rglRuVkCgCAJ6mJWfAeNP6DWcMMocccJQCLcB/s320/FullSizeRender%2B%252848%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#BoobMan</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;">Babywearing </span>has been a thing for me for a long time out of necessity, but I became obsessed with it with Jayce. Miraculously he learned to walk though (at 10 months old), despite many people that were worried he'd be delayed because I held my baby too much. <i>eye roll, eye roll, eye roll</i><br /><br />Then I started <span style="font-size: large;">cloth diapering</span>. HOLY SHIT! Literally! But that seems to work for us and saves us money like mad!<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Essential oils </span>made their way into our house and got rubbed all over everyone and diffused in everything.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">And now here I stand with coconut oil on my face!&nbsp;</span><br /><br />Hippie moms, you fucking rock! I've given you a hard time for a long time....and still sometimes do, but you've got it going on! You are doing what works for you and your family! Bravo to you for going against the grain to do what is best in your eyes!<br /><br />Maybe I'll make it past the hemp necklace level and onto the dreadlocks level..... Just searching for an all-natural deodorant, a kombucha recipe I can brew at home and how I can fashion my backyard into a free-range chicken coop with goats roaming for milk.<br /><br /><i>(Please don't take offense to this. I love you all! I'm really making fun of my own hypocritical ass!)</i><br /><i><br /></i><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow along on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;or like me</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>!</b></span>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-59041994889216372972016-09-09T17:27:00.002-05:002016-09-09T17:27:17.055-05:00The Day My Husband Broke My HeartBeing a mom is really hard, add staying home with all the crazies, even harder! But this week I realized that being a dad who works hard, is equally, if not even more difficult.<br /><br />It was Tuesday morning, he was headed out the door for the second week out of the last three. Typically he leaves before the boys get up, but he had to stop back by the house before leaving. The kids were up when he came inside. He explained how he had to go out of town for work again.<br /><br />The baby was crying, so daddy picked him up. He laid his head on daddy's shoulder and was gripping onto his shirt.<br /><br />Another little person was crying and begging him not to leave again.<br /><br />I hugged and kissed my husband good-bye for the week and said, "I love you. Be safe and we'll see you on Friday!" And then he was gone, but he seemed bothered by something. I assumed it was me.<br /><br />I texted him a short while later and apologized that I was a little crabby and acting frazzled. He quickly responded assuring me that it was hard for him to leave because of the way the kids were clinging onto him.<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">My heart broke.</span><br /><br />I sit here and whine and complain about running errands, rarely getting a break, kids being off the walls and all of the daily things I have to get done to keep the house up and running. All the while I ignored how he felt. He leaves me here to care for our babies; to make sure the fort is held down while he earns a living that allows us to keep our life running the way it does.<br /><br />He missed the first day of preschool. He missed swim lessons this week. He missed being on the front line of our first trip to the doctor with a broken bone. He didn't want to, but he had to.<br /><br />I now understand what that look I saw in his face when he left on Tuesday was. He was father who was sad. It wasn't the look of a man, or my husband, but that of a father who wanted to do nothing more than sit there and hold his babies forever and never leave.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KZCwDRKwkCY/V9M0UROsFVI/AAAAAAAABXc/dFWwGk8hx80pW5_NisPdtNm2eeO_1FirACLcB/s1600/IMG_7230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KZCwDRKwkCY/V9M0UROsFVI/AAAAAAAABXc/dFWwGk8hx80pW5_NisPdtNm2eeO_1FirACLcB/s320/IMG_7230.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Now the countdown of the week is over and he's back! The saying, "distance makes the heart grow fonder," is true!<br /><br />When the door opened screeches for daddy rang through our halls. Hugs and kisses were given like mad and demands for Lego building started.<br /><br />My heart nearly burst! So much love!<br /><br />I'm sorry for every resenting all the time I spend with our kids. I'm sorry that I get annoyed that you <i>get</i>&nbsp;to leave. I'm blessed. In an ideal situation both parents would be able to make every event, see every milestone, experience every tough parenting moment and give bedtime kisses every night. That isn't our case, but I'm still in love with life and the man I've chose to walk through this journey with.<br /><br />To all of the moms barely holding life at home together while your spouse is away, you've got this! May the naps be long and your wine glass full!<br /><br />To all of the hardworking parents who miss more things than they'd like to, it's ok! Don't beat yourself up, make the moments you are there count for all it's worth! They love you regardless!<br /><br />To my love (if you've read all the way to the end of this), I love you more and more every day! You are the best daddy I could ever wish for our babies to have! Now only if you'd let me have 12 more!!!<br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>&nbsp;for your daily dose of crazy!</b><br /><b><br /></b><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b>Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-981895149358238892016-09-02T16:00:00.000-05:002016-09-02T16:00:03.545-05:00Why We Are "Those" NeighborsYou know how every neighborhood has "those" neighbors. Nobody really says anything about it, well, because then they might know that everyone that surrounds them is constantly judging them. Let me take this moment to raise my hand and admit, we are "those" neighbors. I'm kind of embarrassed by it on one hand, but I'm throwing the middle finger up with the other!<br /><br /><b><u>We are terrible groundskeepers.</u></b><br />Some people live in their yard. They slave away mowing, weed eating and using their fancy edger. They get down on their hands and knees to pull weeds and meticulously groom their flower beds. Well, we are not those people.<br /><br />We mow when it's gotten to the point that the children notice it (usually because it's sprouting seeds), but I like to think of it just being frugal and saving money on grass seed; like organic and shit! (<i>Environmental&nbsp;win over here!</i>) And our favorite weed eater is SUPER fancy, we call it Round-Up. The brown lines around everything clearly are an accent color to the green, right?<br /><br />Our neighborhood though is the one in which everyone mows between one and six times a week. The family across the street pretty much only takes a quarter inch off each time. I peer through our jungle grass at him and wave, while I'm mentally cursing him out for making our yard look that much longer!<br /><br /><b><u>We aren't very neighborly.</u></b><br />Yes we say hello when we see others out and about. And we will help them out if they need something. But I'm not living up to the small town neighborhood dream. We know the first and last name of two of our neighbors (<i>thank goodness one of them have it their front yard, or I'd forget it</i>). I couldn't pick out who lives in the rest of the homes around us if I tried. We've never had a backyard BBQ with anyone. I mean, all of that neighborly stuff you see on TV all of the time, has yet to happen with us.<br /><br /><u><b>Our children have no&nbsp;boundaries.</b></u><br />We live in a small town, so our children think that everyone is their friend. But one of our neighbors (who I have never seen outside) is a couple in their mid-90s. We were playing outside one day when our two year old thought he should chase a bird into their yard....and then walk into their front door like he owned the place. He's never met them. I jerked him out before he had a chance to destroy something, shouted "Hello, it's just your neighbor," and quickly left while scolding him about not going into other people's homes.<br /><br />And our other neighbor, whose house we walk by every day. My son has peed on their sidewalk/yard more times then I would like to admit. It's usually because he won't go before we have to leave for school, and then twenty feet down the sidewalk, it hits him. I won't even begin on the number of times I've had a completely naked child running around outside.<br /><br /><b><u>Volume level is constantly on 100.</u></b><br />There is a lot of noise that comes from our house. The kids will scream when we are outside like they are on fire, but it is really because I told them to not play with a steel shovel. And I'm pretty sure our neighbors know our kids' names due to the amount of times I scream them in a 15 minute time frame.<br /><br />And that nice time of year where you can have your windows open and let the breeze run through the house, yeah, that's a struggle. Everyone &nbsp;in the neighborhood will know when someone went poop, or who hit who! They also might hear a deranged mother threatening to take away everything that is in the house if the kids don't get it together!<br /><b><u><br /></u></b><b><u>We stretch our property line.</u></b><br />We bought a new camper this summer, a 35 foot 5 inches beauty! Our driveway (<i>that we poured completely new to the street with our own money)&nbsp;</i>is 36 feet. So yes, the tongue of the trailer goes pretty much to the street, but we own that shit, so it's ours to use. We didn't think much of it, no one has said anything, and in a town where they like to send angry letters (<i>*cough* not that I've ever gotten one</i>), we haven't received anything.<br /><br />Then I was talking to a mom when picking up from school this week. We shared pleasantries about the summer and I mentioned the camper. I was quickly cut-off and asked, "Ohhhhh so you're the house who has the big ass camper that goes past the sidewalk?!" Umm yep, that would be us. I smiled and walked away, clearly we aren't going to be besties.<br /><br /><b><u>Our projects always take way too long.</u></b><br />Our deck in the backyard took a year and a half to finish. So until it was done, our backyard resembled a run down lumber yard.<br /><br />We put siding on our house (<i>isn't home ownership a dream</i>) last spring, it was suppose to take a week, ours took 3. Our contractor had different reasons as to why it took so long, my only real concern is that the workers worked 10-12 hours, never left, but never asked to use the restroom? I'm only going to assume the worse at that point.<br /><br />Then there was that new driveway I talked about that we got. Well we live on one of the main drags to the schools in town. Our cement got poured from 8-9am on like a Thursday. The cement truck had the entire road blocked during "rush hour commute." Judging by the amount of peel-outs I heard that morning, I doubt anyone was pleased with us.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pfxjeNHct4I/V8nmaFXIoMI/AAAAAAAABWU/-zHCqGbAhmgmOHbgLLcV4LrotcbfhMlqACLcB/s1600/11988609_10206060554051009_373474934604084161_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pfxjeNHct4I/V8nmaFXIoMI/AAAAAAAABWU/-zHCqGbAhmgmOHbgLLcV4LrotcbfhMlqACLcB/s320/11988609_10206060554051009_373474934604084161_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because it was totally normal for me to sit in my car and capture them pouring it....I guess!?</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I've just realized we aren't meant to have neighbors. We need to be on a secluded compound where our crazies can run wild, but until that day happens, I guess we will just continue to be "those" neighbors.<br /><br />Are you one of "those" neighbors? Or do you have one of "those" neighbors? Leave me a comment below! I'd love to hear that we aren't the only horrible people out there!<br /><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>,&nbsp;</b><a href="https://twitter.com/MyUnfltrdChaos" target="_blank"><b>Twitter</b></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;or check me out on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;</b></span><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/nicolessnyder/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Pinterest!</a>.Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-48866872293238665132016-08-17T11:37:00.003-05:002016-08-17T11:37:51.209-05:00A Domesticated Daddy is a Sexy Daddy<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">Some husbands like to complain that once they put a ring on it or get in a long term committed relationship the sex dies off. Well with marriage and/or long term commitment, a lot of things happen. We usually have kids, work stupid hours, and still try to maintain a household.</div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">Let me paraphrase (because I have a poor memory) Mila Kunis’ character Amy in her Bad Moms movie,&nbsp;<em style="box-sizing: border-box;">“If you took care of anyone else BUT yourself, you would get SOOO many blowies! I’d give you so many it would explode!”</em></div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">It’s SO true! We don’t need an additional child you has had thirty-ish years to perfect their tantrums and being waited on skills. As a wife and mother, we are pulled in a million different directions. Doctor appointments, dishes, baths, laundry, grocery shopping, school activities, date nights, planned family outings; the list could go on for miles! Snuggling up next to our sweet spouse at the end of the longest day ever (<em style="box-sizing: border-box;">which is every day</em>) and putting our lady bits on a platter while being sure he is well “taken care of” is really the last thing on our mind.</div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">But you know what is hot, like makes me lick my lips, put on that lingerie I bought and never took the tags off of…….seeing my husband be all types of domesticated without asking.</div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">In my head I’m saying this all as Ryan Gosling….</div><blockquote style="background-color: whitesmoke; border: 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 24px; margin: 15px 0px; padding: 15px;"><div style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">“Hey baby, I got dinner and dishes taken care of.”</span></div><div style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">“Mama, I got bath and bedtime tonight, go take the longest shower of your life.”</span></div><div style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">“Hey I got off work early and washed, dried and put away all of the laundry so you didn’t have to stress it tonight.”</span></div><div style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">“Give me your grocery list. I’ll go grab them for you and I’ll bring you home a coffee!”</span></div></blockquote><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">And for that over the top moment, that I think would give me the biggest lady boner in the world!</div><blockquote style="background-color: whitesmoke; border: 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 24px; margin: 15px 0px; padding: 15px;"><div style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;">“I’m taking all the kids out for the day. I’ve already packed the car, and we’ll see you at dinner time. I’m bringing home pizza. Baby you go relax or walk around Target by yourself. I got this!”</span></div></blockquote><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">I think the hottest thing a man can say is that they “got it,” and not follow everything they try to do with 12,000 questions. Where are the wipes? Which milk does he take? What do they need to go with their lunch? What shirt goes with the black shorts? Where are the shoes? When will you be home?</div><h4 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: ProximaNovaCond-Extrabld, &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.692em; font-weight: 400; line-height: 1.091em; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">Men of the world, handle it.</h4><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">We love you and we love you (in that blowie type of way) even more when you take care of others instead of yourself first, because as moms, we do that all damn day. It’s nice to have a break every once in a while. Your actions will be greatly rewarded!</div><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;">For the men reading this that already are professionals at this, I applaud you! May your wives praise you in all the right ways!</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rrYBKuHLtNM/V7SSpax3DEI/AAAAAAAABVU/GALYwCt3e6As9G6XgJ4bWWcZWjMjfKW4gCLcB/s1600/17706_10205543439523469_2656819908965908654_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rrYBKuHLtNM/V7SSpax3DEI/AAAAAAAABVU/GALYwCt3e6As9G6XgJ4bWWcZWjMjfKW4gCLcB/s320/17706_10205543439523469_2656819908965908654_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hubby "handling it," yes please!</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.231em; line-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;"><br /></div><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>,&nbsp;</b><a href="https://twitter.com/MyUnfltrdChaos" target="_blank"><b>Twitter</b></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;or check me out on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;</b></span><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/nicolessnyder/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Pinterest!</a>.Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-46551592521180409692016-08-13T23:06:00.003-05:002016-08-13T23:09:59.742-05:00Adoption Defines Your Past, Not Your Present<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IR36yo6HKus/VQ7LviCnjeI/AAAAAAAAAZU/rscz4kjOcK4MxZgueCQNytldua9LTZC3ACPcB/s1600/WD_2C73.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IR36yo6HKus/VQ7LviCnjeI/AAAAAAAAAZU/rscz4kjOcK4MxZgueCQNytldua9LTZC3ACPcB/s320/WD_2C73.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Birthday!</td></tr></tbody></table>Your birthday is just around the corner, it's the fourth birthday we've celebrated with you. It doesn't seem like that monumental of a year, but it really is for you.<br /><br />Something has been happening recently, you are changing. You have morphed from an unaware toddler to a curious, wondering child. We gave you your origination story when you were three, because like all superheroes, you came from somewhere different than where you are now. But it was short and simple. We didn't give you any real details or explanations, because you didn't ask for them. You didn't ask original questions that your mind wondered about or follow every answer we gave you with an additional question.<br /><br />Now, now things are different.<br /><br />We talk about your adoption a lot, and buddy I love that this isn't a secret you are going to stumble upon when you are 15 and rifling through our paperwork out of curiosity.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ulbjO5Z2SlA/VQ77gYcuwlI/AAAAAAAAAcw/nx8_XJxEqDYnqNXrK6I4Me69nye51t_ugCPcB/s1600/540431_10203951788013176_7615138886544525160_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ulbjO5Z2SlA/VQ77gYcuwlI/AAAAAAAAAcw/nx8_XJxEqDYnqNXrK6I4Me69nye51t_ugCPcB/s320/540431_10203951788013176_7615138886544525160_n.jpg" width="305" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adoption Day!</td></tr></tbody></table>I love that you sort of have an idea about your birth mom, although I don't think you fully grasp it yet. I know you wonder about her, and ask where she sleeps; I wish I had answers for you. I can tell you that she loved you, but had her own struggles.<br /><br />And your birth dad we don't talk about much, well because I'm not ready for the "where babies come from" question. He's a great guy though, but he wasn't ready to be a daddy when you were little, and he thought that we would be great parents to you. I like to believe he was right!<br /><br />I chuckle when you ask questions about how daddy and I did took care of you when you were a baby. Those are the easy questions! I promise that we will always answer your questions honestly though, no matter how difficult they may be.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zxtL5IaVGrA/VQ7Lxi_H5NI/AAAAAAAAAZY/Vh0lVOWN62k5Q0skI9Dtrp3SnpsaTvv0ACPcB/s1600/WD_3B07-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zxtL5IaVGrA/VQ7Lxi_H5NI/AAAAAAAAAZY/Vh0lVOWN62k5Q0skI9Dtrp3SnpsaTvv0ACPcB/s320/WD_3B07-1.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the face I see when I think of you as a baby!</td></tr></tbody></table>But honey, I want this to be clear to you, your adoption defines your past, not your present. You didn't grow in my belly like your little brothers, and I don't have newborn pictures of you. But no other mommy is going to come and take you away to their house, I know that is something you are often afraid of in your dreams. You are ours forever and ever!<br /><br />I do have a fear though, a really scary fear. I fear that when you get older and go through that "hate your parents" phase, you'll say we aren't your real parents. I cringe thinking of it. I know that it is a ways off, but with all of the changes in your questions lately, I worry it's sooner than later.<br /><br />We are your mommy and daddy though. Your brothers are your brothers. Blood doesn't make family, love does, and baby we love you more than you could ever know. Remember that sweet boy. You are the smartest, funniest, and most delightful boy we could've ever been blessed with!<br /><br />We are so thankful to celebrate this birthday with you, and the many more to come! We love you!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lF0P6q8uk2w/V02Ts-U8-nI/AAAAAAAABFQ/ngEQzlQCK6MgITBlS8w-pPuNGXzDYATGgCPcB/s1600/_DSC0461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lF0P6q8uk2w/V02Ts-U8-nI/AAAAAAAABFQ/ngEQzlQCK6MgITBlS8w-pPuNGXzDYATGgCPcB/s320/_DSC0461.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>,&nbsp;</b><a href="https://twitter.com/MyUnfltrdChaos" target="_blank"><b>Twitter</b></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;or check me out on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;</b></span><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/nicolessnyder/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Pinterest!</a>.Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-74721392658587286842016-07-27T21:02:00.003-05:002016-07-27T21:03:14.686-05:00To My Child On The Day You F#@% Up<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Hey Kid!</span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I'm writing this to you while you are still cute and somewhat innocent. You still love your dad and me and the sun and moon revolve around hugs, kisses, and tickle fights with us. I love that you still think we are the coolest people in the world and you want to spend all of your time within a half inch of us. You even beg us to watch you pee and insist on us looking at your poop.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MfOvQNdeAig/V5lmr8IyooI/AAAAAAAABUg/vlrC50d-fesSzxzDBf-Loz2X-MyYTgzPgCEw/s1600/IMG_6106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MfOvQNdeAig/V5lmr8IyooI/AAAAAAAABUg/vlrC50d-fesSzxzDBf-Loz2X-MyYTgzPgCEw/s320/IMG_6106.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No empty laps are allowed in this house.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6F0D7vW5vzs/V5lmryRKeHI/AAAAAAAABUk/a6vKsnX2S6UwGxrht-9LGMaxnts00OzZwCLcB/s1600/IMG_6107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6F0D7vW5vzs/V5lmryRKeHI/AAAAAAAABUk/a6vKsnX2S6UwGxrht-9LGMaxnts00OzZwCLcB/s320/IMG_6107.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Layne, you begged me to watch you poop and cried when I wouldn't hold your hand.<br />(You can thank Kayden for ripping off the toilet paper holder the first time, and your handy work for the second time)</td></tr></tbody></table><div align="center"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I know this will all fade soon and things will change. You'll want to go out at night and hang out with your friends more than us. Love interests will take over your thoughts and I'm sure that grabbing pizza as a family will result in eye-rolling and death looks.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">There is one thing I know for sure, you will fuck up at some point.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It might be something big and life changing, or something that won't matter a few years down the road, but seems like the end of the world at the moment. One thing we know for sure; it will happen eventually. I want you to know a few things for when this does happen.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Tell us first.</span></b><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Finding out through the grapevine doesn't sit well with us. We want to hear it from the horse's mouth. Take responsibility, suck it up and tell us.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">We will yell.</span></b><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Your dad and I love you more than anything else, we truly do. We are also very passionate people, in that slash your tires then buy you new ones type of way. So just be prepared. Your dad will say one too many cuss words, and I will lecture your ear off. But we can't yell forever, and we will eventually calm down. Just give it a minute, or ten.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">There will be consequences.</span></b><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Everything has a consequence. No, we will not run to your teacher and defend your case when you mess up, they are right and you are wrong. No, we won't try to "fix" everything around you so that you don't feel pain/loss/disappointment. These are all things that you will always have to deal with in life, better get used to it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">The world will keep turning.&nbsp;</span></b><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">You might feel like nothing can fix it, and everything is ruined. Guess what though? The morning after, the sun will come up, and every morning after that. You might have to fight through some challenges, but every day will be new again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">We live in a world right now where parents are trying to bubble wrap the world around their kids. Everything is about warm fuzzies, participation trophies and being sure no one's feelings are hurt. Sorry buddy, you drew the old school straw for parents.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">We won't try to be the perfect parents that make sure you your fuck ups don't really effect you, and instead pass the blame to someone else. We won't sugar coat life for you. There will be hard work, tears, and sweat; accept it and move on.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">But we will love you, be your support and your shoulder to cry on. We will try to provide you with the life skills in order to turn every stupid mistake you make into a learning opportunity.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">And as I write this with you next to me, I just want to remind you. You just told your father and me that we are "the best!" Remember that in 10 years while you are stomping upstairs and living in a bedroom that has lost its door because you slammed it one too many times.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Love,<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Mom<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>,&nbsp;</b><a href="https://twitter.com/MyUnfltrdChaos" target="_blank"><b>Twitter</b></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;or check me out on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;</b></span><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/nicolessnyder/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Pinterest!</a>.Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2411850939001725592.post-74308721451517660592016-07-20T11:48:00.003-05:002016-07-20T11:48:44.161-05:00Finding Our NEW Normal<div class="MsoNormal"><i>Check out my newest post on The Huffington Post&nbsp;<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/what-momlife-really-looks-like_us_578fa17be4b06fcf086d80aa" target="_blank">here.</a>&nbsp;I'd love for you to comment/share/post it on a billboard, whatever your heart inclines you to do!</i><br /><h2><b><u>Finding Our NEW Normal</u></b></h2>Something is happening in our family that hasn’t occurred in the entire 10 years that Jason and I have been together. I’m excited about it. He’s excited, but apprehensive, and the boys can’t fully wrap their heads around it. Jason will only be working one job!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Here’s some background. He’s worked his current full-time job our entire relationship and then helped his dad with a side business up until 4 years ago when he became a partner. Two years ago he bought his dad out and we’ve been running it like a full-time part-time job ever since. He’d work 40-60 hours at his main job and then another 20+ on the side.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">We never saw him. He missed weekend wake-ups, nightly dinners, bath time and hearing all of the boys’ goofy stories. Weekend trips were just the kids and I because he had to work. He’d go days sometimes without seeing the boys and only seeing me for an hour or so before I fell asleep. He was tired all of the time and testy. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I got to the point where I became resentful. We didn’t NEED the money from the side business, my husband was just a workaholic, and that drive was causing him to miss so much. So after a long, hard and stressful week a couple months ago, he put an end date on the calendar. &nbsp;His side business would be done. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">As of today, it is. There are a few loose ends to tie up, but overall, we are done! I couldn’t be happier! The boys are adjusting, they keep asking on the weekends, “Why are you here daddy?” It makes me smile, but breaks my heart that that was all they’ve ever known.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">There is a struggle though that I didn’t foresee. A recovering workaholic…..it’s a thing! We are having to make adjustments, and it’s hard. He needs projects and lists; something to keep his hands busy once he’s off for the day. On the weekends he can’t just hang out and relax, he goes crazy! Fishing is something he’s always enjoyed, and he’s finally gotten back into it. We run a lot of errands as a family, go to the farmer’s market, and took him to his first splash pad experience!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x43bmbgTttI/V4-YDRpz8LI/AAAAAAAABTI/dginjr422oYDSnJhGUZa7dTWWmdv3coKwCEw/s1600/_DSC0318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x43bmbgTttI/V4-YDRpz8LI/AAAAAAAABTI/dginjr422oYDSnJhGUZa7dTWWmdv3coKwCEw/s320/_DSC0318.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Tori Bruno Photography</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">He’s getting more time with the boys than ever before! I laugh when he gets frustrated by some of the things the boys do, but that don’t faze me, because to me it’s normal. There is the whining over what’s for dinner, the fighting over who goes potty first or the crying for mommy for every bump they get. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yUKzBoXlfEA/V4-fYBIqXfI/AAAAAAAABT0/tKIpQSjRi7w_J29KWJ1hKICpnhxSc5RhgCLcB/s1600/IMG_5137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yUKzBoXlfEA/V4-fYBIqXfI/AAAAAAAABT0/tKIpQSjRi7w_J29KWJ1hKICpnhxSc5RhgCLcB/s320/IMG_5137.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xk2zBBOLGC8/V4-fYOATcYI/AAAAAAAABT4/-ztWpju-6RES6RIeeS1GbFAHCdLLqbpXwCLcB/s1600/IMG_5402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xk2zBBOLGC8/V4-fYOATcYI/AAAAAAAABT4/-ztWpju-6RES6RIeeS1GbFAHCdLLqbpXwCLcB/s320/IMG_5402.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AHlA5VX-bcs/V4-fYDfAg4I/AAAAAAAABT8/3PayspX2Z0YSP0SPkc02EprOnVgbDN4sQCLcB/s1600/IMG_5419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AHlA5VX-bcs/V4-fYDfAg4I/AAAAAAAABT8/3PayspX2Z0YSP0SPkc02EprOnVgbDN4sQCLcB/s320/IMG_5419.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2p_pw1lrf6Q/V4-fYvgiy0I/AAAAAAAABUE/zD7Xu1gq39I2gTP3HXVyTRcJ_3WbiMUiwCLcB/s1600/IMG_5830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2p_pw1lrf6Q/V4-fYvgiy0I/AAAAAAAABUE/zD7Xu1gq39I2gTP3HXVyTRcJ_3WbiMUiwCLcB/s320/IMG_5830.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Layne learning man skills!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">As many things that he finds &nbsp;irritating, there are moments I’ve witnessed that warm my heart and am so happy to see! There are the endless amount of stories being read aloud while I cook dinner, living room wrestling matches, daddy/son fishing outings, and extra weekend naptime kisses.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EBid6xR13GY/V4-cB6HnAJI/AAAAAAAABTc/dwC6HOzv4_k4RqPrjAQ2lBrsOdXg8yFGACLcB/s1600/59506_1445568657331_1880980_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EBid6xR13GY/V4-cB6HnAJI/AAAAAAAABTc/dwC6HOzv4_k4RqPrjAQ2lBrsOdXg8yFGACLcB/s320/59506_1445568657331_1880980_n.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Eric Francis Photography</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SdqWLXDvIg8/V4-b-RJAKEI/AAAAAAAABTU/WtOBeCTzqo4WzRy7DCci4jxP7FaR5ofJQCLcB/s1600/59506_1445569377349_1255483_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SdqWLXDvIg8/V4-b-RJAKEI/AAAAAAAABTU/WtOBeCTzqo4WzRy7DCci4jxP7FaR5ofJQCLcB/s320/59506_1445569377349_1255483_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Eric Francis Photography</span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DffgfzKeefI/V4-cBzK0GFI/AAAAAAAABTY/xYgWBLFnC8o-WXdodFxUY3r5NRM8v5GsACLcB/s1600/59506_1445571657406_1488036_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DffgfzKeefI/V4-cBzK0GFI/AAAAAAAABTY/xYgWBLFnC8o-WXdodFxUY3r5NRM8v5GsACLcB/s320/59506_1445571657406_1488036_n.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo credit: Eric Francis Photography</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Sunday will be six years we’ve been married, and we are celebrating it with a family camping trip. The man I married in 2010 is not the man I sleep next to at night in 2016. He’s more selfless, caring and gentle than ever before. Our marriage is growing as we learn to be around each other more. It seems crazy, but it’s like we are starting a new book in our life, not just a chapter. I look forward to see where this sequel leads!&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2-KQrUIuDPA/V4-YHEVlbEI/AAAAAAAABTI/U6U0bDWv1bkwlVfHXe-rBY7bcoflZfJvACEw/s1600/_DSC0498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2-KQrUIuDPA/V4-YHEVlbEI/AAAAAAAABTI/U6U0bDWv1bkwlVfHXe-rBY7bcoflZfJvACEw/s320/_DSC0498.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Tori Bruno Photography</td></tr></tbody></table><b>Subscribe by e-mail so you don't miss a thing!</b><br /><b><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&lt;&lt;&lt;As always, feel free to Share, Like or Pin!&gt;&gt;&gt;</b></span><br /><b><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;" /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px;">Follow on&nbsp;</span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/myunfilteredchaos/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Instagram</a><b>,&nbsp;</b><a href="https://twitter.com/MyUnfltrdChaos" target="_blank"><b>Twitter</b></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;tahoma&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;freesans&quot; , sans-serif; line-height: 16.8px;"><b>&nbsp;or check me out on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MyUnfilteredChaos/" target="_blank">Facebook</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;</b></span><a href="https://www.pinterest.com/nicolessnyder/" style="background-color: white; color: #7c93a1; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.8px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Pinterest!</a>.Nicole Snyderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15973890742904469925noreply@blogger.com3