<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182</id><updated>2012-02-16T04:09:02.790-08:00</updated><category term='sleep'/><category term='Max'/><category term='hand washing'/><category term='Terrible TV'/><category term='soap'/><category term='lost'/><category term='fits'/><category term='keys'/><category term='food'/><category term='smelly dog'/><category term='cell phone'/><category term='Ann Arbor Hands On Museum'/><category term='hair cuts'/><category term='naptime.'/><category term='cold weather'/><category term='dog'/><category term='groceries'/><category term='over-committer'/><category term='ice festival'/><category term='mouth breathers'/><title type='text'>Someday Maybe</title><subtitle type='html'>life happens when you are busy making other plans</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-6516679119482605955</id><published>2010-01-04T20:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T20:06:12.167-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Nate 4th Birthday</title><content type='html'>Dear Nathan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You turned 4 years old.  You have definitely grown out of the toddler stage are a full blown preschooler.  You understand jokes, you like to laugh and we have interesting conversations.  You also get your feelings hurt easily and really want to get along with everyone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marisa is your best friend and your biggest fan.  She will play any game that you want to and will do whatever you want her to.  You are also good at helping her feel better when she is sad.  You can always seem to make her laugh when she is crying with either a silly face or a funny song.  She loves you so much and I know why.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have become so very lovable.  You are sweet to everyone, always offering your blankie when someone is sad and sharing your snacks or food.  You give hugs and huge kisses.  You have become very skilled at talking on the telephone and like to call your Nana, your Grandma and your Daddy.  Every night when you go to sleep I sing “You are my sunshine” and then you always get up from your snuggled in position to give me a big hug and kiss.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year we spent some time at Gull Lake and we went to Great Wolf Lodge (a water park) in the winter.  You really loved the water park and we had a lot of fun there.  You finally understand the importance of safety items such as life jackets, bicycle helmets, and seatbelts.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Halloween you dressed up as an astronaut and we celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas at Nana and Papas and Aunt Jenn and Papa Bob came over the day after Christmas to visit.  Your favorite gift was what Santa brought you, a new airplane, Buzz Lightyear and Woody.   In the winter we made Christmas cookies, decorated Gingerbread houses and went to see the lights.  You sure loved decorating cookies!  You continued to be a big helper with Mommy in the kitchen.  Brownies are your favorite thing to make.  We had a fun Easter egg hunt at Nana and Papas house and you and Drew hid in the closet and ate all your candy.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and Marisa loved to play in the laundry baskets and we had a blast playing outside in the sandbox, with the water table and we even created our own water park in the backyard!  Mommy and you took time away together to go to the Ann Arbor Hands on Museum, we had so much fun!  Daddy taught you how to play hockey in the basement and wanted to take you ice skating but you didn’t want to go.  You also really hate getting your haircut.  It’s the worst thing that we could ever take you to do.  You really don’t like it, screaming and throwing your body around.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to say goodbye to Jake our family dog this year, and we were all very sad.  We read “Doggy Heaven” and you pretended to understand.  We cuddled a lot with Max and talked about how much fun Jake was.  We will miss him very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You enjoyed shows like Elmo (mostly because Marisa loved it) and Backyardigans.  But your absolute favorite was Curious George and you would even ask for certain episodes by name.  Your two favorite movies are The Incredibles and Toy Story.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ms. Katie was your preschool teacher and Aadi is still your best friend.  This year you started to write your name and became very good at the letter N.  By the end of the year, you could write almost anything as long as I wrote it for you to copy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At your Doctor appointment for your birthday you were in the 105% for height and 90% for weight.  The Doctor said you were growing great, but you were a big boy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your birthday this year we celebrated by getting a giant bounce house for our back yard.  We invited our neighbors over and a few close friends.  You had a blast.  I can’t believe how much fun it was to ring in your 4th birthday.  You are gowning up so fast, I’m really proud of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, &lt;br /&gt;Your Mama.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-6516679119482605955?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/6516679119482605955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-nate-4th-birthday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6516679119482605955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6516679119482605955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-nate-4th-birthday.html' title='Dear Nate 4th Birthday'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-6505991620743954789</id><published>2010-01-04T20:03:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T20:05:23.640-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Nate 3rd Birthday</title><content type='html'>Dear Nate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week you turned three!   I have to say so far this was the most interesting year!  Your new baby sister was starting to grow on you and you always wanted to lay with her.  You had to be independent at times because Mommy couldn’t always play what you wanted and go outside when you wanted when Daddy was at work.  You started to let the dogs outside on your own and pick out your own snacks, and snack you sure did.  You decided that you didn’t really like to eat any of the foods Mommy and Daddy made for dinner unless it was tacos or spaghetti.  But you liked your snacks, especially popsicles and salami.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did many fun things that summer, we went to Domino’s Farm and Drew came over a lot.  The week before Labor Day you fell at school and fractured your clavicle.  We didn’t know what was wrong with you and Daddy took you to the Doctor right away.  They thought you had croup!   We went to the Doctor two more times before they realized that you had fractured your clavicle.  You didn’t have a cast or anything, but they &lt;br /&gt;just wanted you to rest.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In May of that year you fell at school again and broke two of your front teeth on the sensory table in your classroom.  We had to go to the Dentist and have one pulled right away and we had another one pulled a couple of months later.  You adjusted to the gap in your teeth faster and better than Mommy and Daddy who felt very sad that your perfect sweet smile was now different.  Although we all got used to it quickly and thought you looked very handsome.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Halloween you dressed up as Cookie Monster.  It was the first year that you chose your own costume.  You only trick or treated for a short time, and then came home to hand out candy.  This year you met your best friend Aadi.  You two are very close and spend most of your time at school together.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You started to become very picky about your clothes and almost every day wore a hat.  Your red one was your favorite at the beginning of the year and your orange one was your favorite after that.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you were 2 and a half we got rid of your crib and bought you a blue race car bed.  You loved it, but it took a week or two before you would sleep in it.  You also had some sleep issues toward the end of this year.  You wouldn’t go to sleep alone so someone had to lie on the floor of your bedroom, and you woke up during the night for Daddy to come and sleep on the floor.  This lasted until Mommy and Daddy became smart enough to stop doing it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your favorite TV shows were Make Way for Noddy, Dragon Tales, and Calliou.  I think you like Calliou because he was almost your age and had a baby sister, like you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks before your 3rd birthday I told you that it was time to start using the potty.  Although you refused to learn to stand and go pee, you began wearing underwear.  It took only 3 days and you learned to use the potty with no accidents!   About 3 weeks later you even were wearing underwear at night!  We were very very proud.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At two years old you were smart, independent, and very inquisitive.  I’m very excited to see how you grow and change.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Mama.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-6505991620743954789?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/6505991620743954789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-nate-3rd-birthday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6505991620743954789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6505991620743954789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-nate-3rd-birthday.html' title='Dear Nate 3rd Birthday'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-5591904784568139237</id><published>2010-01-04T20:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T20:03:46.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Nate, 2nd Birthday</title><content type='html'>Dear Nate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today you turn 2 years old.  I can’t believe how fast this year has flown by!&lt;br /&gt;Your first few months you were an experienced walker already, and wanted to run and climb the stairs.  Mommy was so nervous.  But everything you tried to do, you did very successfully.  I am so proud of you for trying so many things.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the summer you loved to go swimming, but you weren’t too crazy about riding in Papa’s boat.  We spent a week vacation together, and went to the water park, which you got used to after awhile, and went to the Toledo zoo which you LOVED, and your favorite thing from the summer…. Eating ice cream!  We played on the deck a lot and you spent a lot of time in your pool and your sandbox.  It took you a long time to be ok with the way grass felt, but you adjusted to it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the fall we went apple picking and to a cider mill.  We got lost in a corn maze and decided never to do that again.  You didn’t like riding any rides like on the back of the fire truck or a pony ride.  For Halloween you dressed up as a frog.  I think you loved trick or treating 10 times more than we thought you would.  Daddy and you went out and trick or treated while Mommy stayed home and handed out candy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You loved music and liked all types of songs, but your favorite was Carrie Underwood “Before He Cheats” You would dance all over the living room when it came on!  For a few weeks you decided it would be a good idea to get up every morning at 4:30; which means you went back to bed at 6:30, but wow was that exhausting for Mommy and Daddy.  Your favorite TV shows were Noddy, anything with Elmo, and Barney!  Every morning we would get up and sit in the chair together and watch your favorite show.  It was a nice snuggly time with you.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas time came and we spent it away from home, Christmas Eve at Grandma Carols and Christmas Day at Nana and Papas, you got your talking vacuum which you loved very much, you cleaned the house top to bottom with that thing!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You had tubes put in again and also had your adenoids removed.  That seemed to make the ear infections disappear, which was wonderful.  Mommy and Daddy left you with a babysitter for the first time; Miss Lisa came and stayed with you.  You started talking and your very first words were Maaa (for Max) and Dada, and Mama, and more (because you could do the sign for more perfectly).  You liked to say NO to everything.  When you were 18 months you learned to say YES!  We were thrilled!  You began to play more with your cousin Drew. You and him would have car races around the house, and share toothbrushes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were a fantastic eater, and your favorite food was Cheeze-its.  You ate tons of them, and bananas still were a close second.  At 18 months you got all your teeth but your 2 year molars.  You loved to smile for pictures and we have LOTS!  You also went to your very first MSU football game; you stood on Mommy’s lap and clapped to all the songs.  Towards the end of your second year you got a new baby sister when Marisa was born.  You started to throw temper tantrums after that, but grew out of it pretty quick.  You loved Marisa and treated her very kind and gentle and wanted to do everything for her, including feeding her your precious Cheez-its and giving her your blankie.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your birthday party was a little smaller, but it was beautiful outside and you got to run around with Aunt Jenn and Cousin Drew, so you were very happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m so excited to see what we have in store for us next year, I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Momma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-5591904784568139237?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/5591904784568139237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-nate-2nd-birthday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5591904784568139237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5591904784568139237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-nate-2nd-birthday.html' title='Dear Nate, 2nd Birthday'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-6821575336858951821</id><published>2010-01-04T19:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T20:02:49.121-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Letters to Nate</title><content type='html'>Every year on Nate's birthday (or a few weeks/months afterwards) I write him a letter summarizing the year, hitting on key points and putting all those "firsts" into written words so I don't forget them when his wife asks me in 25 years. I've decided that they do me no good stored on my computer, so I'm going to post them all here. As they've progressed I've begun adding photos. You will see....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Nate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today you turn 1 year old.  I can’t believe how fast this year has flown by!&lt;br /&gt;I remember when we were holding you in the hospital and how you were so vocal from day one.  As soon as we brought you home you began to “talk” and you haven’t stopped since.  You used to lie under your play gym and coo and tell stories to the animals for such a long time.  You talked to us, and you loved to sing songs.  Itsy Bitsy Spider was one of your favorites.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were so eager to accomplish things, wanting us to hold you so you could put your weight on your legs and “stand” at 4 weeks!  You sat up at 5 months and rolled over about the same time.  Your favorite food was green beans until we introduced bananas into your life.  You love your bananas!   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t wait for you to crawl, and at 7 ½ months you finally did!  Although I didn’t get to enjoy it very long before you started to take your first steps at 9 months.  You loved to pull up on the tables and push around your car.  You also LOVED getting into the dog food, and tearing apart Mama’s kitchen cabinets. One time you climbed in the refrigerator when it was open too long, and you were always in Nana’s cabinets at the lake.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh the illness, you had ear infection after ear infection.  Mommy and Daddy took you for your first emergency room visit at 4 months.  It was very scary, but we found out you just had an ear infection.  At 9 months you had surgery to put tubes in your ears, which seemed to really help you feel better.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your birthday party was huge with about 40 people coming.  You received lots of presents but I think your favorite gifts were the riding car and truck you got from your Nana and your Grandpa Bob.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Halloween you dressed as a pumpkin and we went trick-or-treating at the mall with Drew who was also a pumpkin.  You both fell asleep about 20 minutes in.  We celebrated Christmas and you had a blast playing with the paper and laughing with Uncle Shaun. He really can crack you up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You cried when we rode anywhere in the car, I think it was because you were tired of looking at the back of the seat.  You loved throwing the ball for the dogs and you were fascinated by anything that played music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You still carry around your striped blankie, and love taking a bath.  You don’t like the way grass feels, and are mesmerized although scared of the vacuum.  I loved when you learned how to wave as it started by opening and closing your hand, then the whole arm would move up and down.  You have to be the most smiley baby, you smile at everyone and your great big belly laugh melts my heart.  We call you our little peanut and you make us want to have more children.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for letting me get to know you, I feel so lucky.  I love you very much,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-6821575336858951821?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/6821575336858951821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/letters-to-nate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6821575336858951821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6821575336858951821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/letters-to-nate.html' title='Letters to Nate'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-6581552036858220375</id><published>2010-01-01T12:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T17:15:49.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE BEST of 2009</title><content type='html'>Here we go the best (and a few of the worst) of 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best Snack&lt;/strong&gt; (as chosen by my children)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sz5jWhiGo3I/AAAAAAAAAIo/OqlbediToZE/s1600-h/CI-Wheat-2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 86px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 111px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421880240010339186" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sz5jWhiGo3I/AAAAAAAAAIo/OqlbediToZE/s320/CI-Wheat-2.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheez-its. Two years running you fattening little cheesy crackers. At least I feel less guilty with the daily consumption because now I buy the "Whole Grain" kind. Although if you look, it still has less than 1 gram of fiber.... not sure how "whole grain" that is but anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Worst Snack.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push-up Pops. Are you kidding me? Who invented these extremely hard to manipulate, stain faces for days and carpets forever. Really, my children were stained for two days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best Smell&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yuletide Vanilla Pear from Bath and Body Works. Yummmm for some reason smells like apple pie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best Day(s) of 2009 &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Completing my first 5K May 31st&lt;br /&gt;2. November 13th the day Marisa decided she didn't want to wear diapers anymore.&lt;br /&gt;3. August 7th visiting Mackinac Island on the most perfect beautiful day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best Movie&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Proposal. Ok, say all you want about my movie tastes. I judge a good movie by the ability to make me laugh out loud. This one did.. many many times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best "First" for 2009&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably has to be Marisa using the potty but also memorable... Nate standing up to pee (life is so much easier!).... or Nate's first movie in the theater "Ponyo". Extremely cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sz5mognJO0I/AAAAAAAAAI4/tUHrd8kTNME/s1600-h/P5090356.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 84px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 137px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421883847535573826" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sz5mognJO0I/AAAAAAAAAI4/tUHrd8kTNME/s320/P5090356.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best drink for 2009&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malibu and Pineapple. My go-to drink of the year.&lt;br /&gt;Sounds good right now, it's 5 oclock somewhere!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-6581552036858220375?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/6581552036858220375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/best-of-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6581552036858220375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6581552036858220375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/best-of-2009.html' title='THE BEST of 2009'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sz5jWhiGo3I/AAAAAAAAAIo/OqlbediToZE/s72-c/CI-Wheat-2.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-2324626046628749319</id><published>2010-01-01T11:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T11:36:24.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A new beginning</title><content type='html'>Today is the beginning of 2010, can't say I'm not ridiculously happy to see 2009 go away.  A year that started with so much promise.  In my  job I was reassigned a district that meant I would no  longer have to travel so much.  12 schools right around my house, pretty good deal.  My family scheduled a vacation for an entire week!  We even went to the water park on vacation in March.  But that's when the bottom dropped out.... without any advance notice my company let go of 200 employees.  While I did keep my job, I took a 5% pay cut.  Plus, I was no longer getting the bonuses that my family depends on.  :-(.   As the year dragged on the news just kept getting worse for our company and things kept changing.  It's very shaky right now and each day I'm worried that I will get more bad news.  Now to top it all off in the last two weeks of the year our TV broke and we learned what was making Max (our 6 year old dog) limp.  Torn &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ACL&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is my hopes for 2010....&lt;br /&gt;Peace.  Really.   I wish that things would start to financially stabilize so that people aren't fearful everyday of losing a job or a home.  That this week of rest and pain pills works on Max so we don't need to figure out how to pay for his surgery.  I find time to peel myself away from my very needy daughter without her screaming, to start my exercise regimen again.  I begin to read more, relax more and snuggle with my husband more.  Hopefully I will also continue my path of reconnecting with my friends again.  I can't believe how much time and energy your kids will zap out of you...I can't remember the last time I wasn't some kind of tired .  My past 3 performance &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;reviews&lt;/span&gt; with 2 different supervisors I've been congratulated on how organized I am, how well I balance work and family, and how even though I have two young children, you can't tell.  And I always wonder this....if this is how I appear, what does everyone else look like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year, I hope this year brings you comfort and joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-2324626046628749319?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/2324626046628749319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-beginning.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/2324626046628749319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/2324626046628749319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-beginning.html' title='A new beginning'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-7277911948531531445</id><published>2009-10-10T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T18:26:59.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm bored</title><content type='html'>Please understand.  Not bored in the "I have nothing to do" way.  But bored in the my life is BORING way.  I work, I go to the gym (when I can spare a moment), and I'm home with the kids.  I don't go anywhere, can't really remember when the last time I went out with friends.  Last time Chris and I went out it was May.  Seriously MAY!!!!!  Really, I have no idea, or a plan for what to do about it.  It's awkward and uncomfortable to ask anyone to babysit, they all work for me.  I takes my parents and hour to get here to babysit, and then the whole time I spend looking at the time because I feel  guilty for them driving home so late. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE Chris's work schedule.  Tuesday through Saturday 10-9.  He doesn't get home until 9:30.  Fridays, gone.  Saturday's gone.  Plus he's gone all day Saturday so the kids and I are home alone.   Then I feel like I can't go anywhere when he is home or we are two ships passing in the night and never get to talk.  As it is now, I leave for work at 8am and he doesn't get home most nights until I'm asleep, because he goes to the gym, or goes out with friends from work.  We see each other approximately 10-15 minutes a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sad, I miss my friends.  So many things I like about living here, but moving when I was pregnant in the middle of winter, I never got to know anyone, and when would I go anywhere and meet people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sigh....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-7277911948531531445?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/7277911948531531445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-bored.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7277911948531531445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7277911948531531445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-bored.html' title='I&apos;m bored'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-1652926082632402296</id><published>2009-09-17T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T17:32:43.188-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"MOM"</title><content type='html'>Oh how I loved when my kids learned to say my name.  For us, Momma wasn't the first word or even the 3rd or 4th.  Dada was at least word 2 or 3.  And for a very long time it settled into Chris as "Daddy" and I as "Momma"  I wasn't mad at that.  Momma is sweet, and something I can't remember ever calling my mom, so it felt new, and my own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan still calls me Momma, and I love it as much as the first time he said it.  He doesn't whine it, he only calls me when he needs me, and sometimes he uses it in a sentence with I love you and my heart aches. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, last weekend Marisa started calling me "Mom" noooowwwwwww you may be thinking,  big deal, it's still precious.  NOT when she says it.  I give her a snack and a drink and begin my trek back to the kitchen for Nates when I hear "Mom?" &lt;br /&gt;"Yes, Marisa" I call back. &lt;br /&gt;"Where are you?" &lt;br /&gt;"Right here" I answer&lt;br /&gt;"Why?"&lt;br /&gt;Oh my, and it goes on.  Mom is said in our house about 50 times an hour.  I think now that it's a shorter word, she says it more.  I really can't be out of her sight for 2 seconds before she is calling me, and she sort of sounds like a parrot.  Mom, mom, mom, mom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, and most important, "Mom" makes me feel old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-1652926082632402296?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/1652926082632402296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/09/mom.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/1652926082632402296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/1652926082632402296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/09/mom.html' title='&quot;MOM&quot;'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-281381609396897530</id><published>2009-09-11T17:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T17:21:34.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In favor of naked time and gratuitous praise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqrpcAn_XKI/AAAAAAAAAIY/D7jRBcYxWC0/s1600-h/PC200607.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380369372260818082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqrpcAn_XKI/AAAAAAAAAIY/D7jRBcYxWC0/s320/PC200607.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, while spending his quality time with a book on the toilet, Nathan called out to me....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Momma!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"yes Nate"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I love you" he said&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wow, I thought, where did that come from? "I love you too" I yelled back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You're my best friend" he yelled back at me. "I like it when you play planes with me. Oh, and Momma.... You Rock Dude!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aww&lt;/span&gt; Nate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I walked over to the bathroom, and said in my sweetest voice.... "I love you too buddy, you are my best friend too and I think YOU rock."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was quiet for a second and said. "Momma, will you wipe my butt?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;and back to reality.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-281381609396897530?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/281381609396897530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/09/in-favor-of-naked-time-and-gratuitous.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/281381609396897530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/281381609396897530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/09/in-favor-of-naked-time-and-gratuitous.html' title='In favor of naked time and gratuitous praise'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqrpcAn_XKI/AAAAAAAAAIY/D7jRBcYxWC0/s72-c/PC200607.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-8129801958254843507</id><published>2009-09-07T07:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T08:12:13.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mosquitos are really good at their job!</title><content type='html'>One night, while trying to relax (on the only night Chris reads stories to Nate-Monday) Nate came in the room to show me his mosquito bites that he got during water play at school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Wow, mosquitos are really good at their jobs&lt;/strong&gt;!" he said. And when I think about it, he's really right! Mosquitos don't really have a lot to do, they aren't a part of that birds and bees equation, aren't needed for pollination, all they are is food for spiders and the only job they have is to bite people so they can get bigger and live longer, hence a bigger meal for a spider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how incredibly insightful a 4 year old can be, if you actually listen to what he is saying (which sometimes, I am guilty of really not listening).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night on our way home from visiting Nana and Papa at the lake, I glanced in the back seat to notice that Nate was NAKED except his pants. He had taken off his shirt, socks and shoes and was sitting there just like normal with no shirt on. Nate, I asked. "why are not wearing your shirt?" &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqUh-MITM6I/AAAAAAAAAII/vlnXWwCgVZ4/s1600-h/img138.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378742682255569826" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqUh-MITM6I/AAAAAAAAAII/vlnXWwCgVZ4/s320/img138.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqUhW6A-cdI/AAAAAAAAAH4/n5D9VbiqjGs/s1600-h/P5080348.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378742007378112978" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqUhW6A-cdI/AAAAAAAAAH4/n5D9VbiqjGs/s320/P5080348.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Because I wanted to" he said. Ok, makes sense to me, why didn't I think of that? (This is also the reason he is currently running around the house with no pants on).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I reminded Nate that he would be going to a new classroom at school tomorrow, and that it might make him sad at first, but that he will really like playing with his new teachers and learning new things. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He said, "Don't worry Mama, I won't be sad, I will be happy about my new class. I have to do new things because I keep getting bigger" and again, he's right. Bigger= Older in his world. Like when we went to the park the other day and another child called Marisa a baby. Big Brother Nate got all up in his face and said... "She's NOT a BABY, she's a BIG GURL!" Which once again he's right, Marisa is certainly a BIG girl now. Or at least she thinks she is.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqUhXYoXsnI/AAAAAAAAAIA/D9wrKYIAcGw/s1600-h/P8050236.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378742015596409458" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqUhXYoXsnI/AAAAAAAAAIA/D9wrKYIAcGw/s320/P8050236.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-8129801958254843507?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/8129801958254843507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/09/mosquitos-are-really-good-at-their-job.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/8129801958254843507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/8129801958254843507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/09/mosquitos-are-really-good-at-their-job.html' title='Mosquitos are really good at their job!'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SqUh-MITM6I/AAAAAAAAAII/vlnXWwCgVZ4/s72-c/img138.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-6180853295160394798</id><published>2009-07-08T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T19:10:31.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marisa, the baby book entry</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Marisa does the cutest most amazing things. She loves to read and will easily remember phrases, and words in books after only reading them one time. She reads to anyone around and likes to hold the book like "the teacher"  Can you tell she is reading a book about Curious George?  Every other word is "George"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-e9d0613e5e31ebdc" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3De9d0613e5e31ebdc%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331811039%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D49C546A21476FAB8E1C65685EFA2E78396DC17A1.6D9AA8C0BEC7F2DACC82111C8DF8E9982573CCBE%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3De9d0613e5e31ebdc%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DMg7AuuiyXN4CjE3BXIB14l0K_40&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3De9d0613e5e31ebdc%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331811039%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D49C546A21476FAB8E1C65685EFA2E78396DC17A1.6D9AA8C0BEC7F2DACC82111C8DF8E9982573CCBE%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3De9d0613e5e31ebdc%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DMg7AuuiyXN4CjE3BXIB14l0K_40&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Those are the cute times... then there are the not so memorable moments. Like this one. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVPV0pHrtI/AAAAAAAAAHo/J5eVbV1phr8/s1600-h/P6280163.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356274568154033874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVPV0pHrtI/AAAAAAAAAHo/J5eVbV1phr8/s320/P6280163.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This one is definitely for the baby book.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-6180853295160394798?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=e9d0613e5e31ebdc&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/6180853295160394798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/07/marisa-baby-book-entry.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6180853295160394798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6180853295160394798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/07/marisa-baby-book-entry.html' title='Marisa, the baby book entry'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVPV0pHrtI/AAAAAAAAAHo/J5eVbV1phr8/s72-c/P6280163.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-5135848158374373573</id><published>2009-07-08T18:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T18:57:00.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>They grow up so fast</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People say that all the time, but I'm starting to notice it so much. When you do the same activity (like go to the toledo zoo) year after year, you can see the changes. We had a blast! We got there just as it was elephant bath time. Nate was worried that the elephants would be loud. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMW4C7OjI/AAAAAAAAAG4/glZX_DNAt1A/s1600-h/P6200089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356271287712561714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMW4C7OjI/AAAAAAAAAG4/glZX_DNAt1A/s200/P6200089.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marisa was in love with the penguins. She could have watched them all day, if Nate hadn't been yelling at us to get moving. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-9dd5264c97be079e" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v4.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D9dd5264c97be079e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331811039%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5C4AB694393B04096CA751F1E4B6239DC9ADB99B.642D8E930383D7D3689D209A2A3EB2AEDA4488BF%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D9dd5264c97be079e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D2_HfW-EnmAKqVJgbdImklhmIN5M&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v4.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D9dd5264c97be079e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331811039%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5C4AB694393B04096CA751F1E4B6239DC9ADB99B.642D8E930383D7D3689D209A2A3EB2AEDA4488BF%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D9dd5264c97be079e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D2_HfW-EnmAKqVJgbdImklhmIN5M&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W also really enjoyed the tigers. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMXIN--KI/AAAAAAAAAHA/c0-R8v5bvoo/s1600-h/P6200106.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356271292053911714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMXIN--KI/AAAAAAAAAHA/c0-R8v5bvoo/s200/P6200106.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The toledo zoo is such an awesome place for young kids, they even have an entire kids zoo area complete with face masks. This one has a blankie just like Nate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMXsQj7iI/AAAAAAAAAHI/u7vYzPbdUhQ/s1600-h/P6200123.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356271301728398882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMXsQj7iI/AAAAAAAAAHI/u7vYzPbdUhQ/s200/P6200123.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did get lost a few times, of course look who was navigating!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMX8CyzyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/EKk1MHwIcrU/s1600-h/P6200125.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356271305965621026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMX8CyzyI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/EKk1MHwIcrU/s200/P6200125.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nate actually posed for a photo on the same tiger he did 3 years ago when we were trying to do as much with him as possible, for we had just found out he was going to be a big brother (Notice I'm already wearing a maternity shirt 5 days after I found out) He has changed so much!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVN83m7tTI/AAAAAAAAAHg/lUb6NjHZLEs/s1600-h/Natre.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356273039941809458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVN83m7tTI/AAAAAAAAAHg/lUb6NjHZLEs/s200/Natre.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMYYUfVGI/AAAAAAAAAHY/W62DyNOBAIU/s1600-h/P6200117.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356271313556034658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMYYUfVGI/AAAAAAAAAHY/W62DyNOBAIU/s200/P6200117.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-5135848158374373573?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=9dd5264c97be079e&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/5135848158374373573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/07/they-grow-up-so-fast.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5135848158374373573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5135848158374373573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/07/they-grow-up-so-fast.html' title='They grow up so fast'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVMW4C7OjI/AAAAAAAAAG4/glZX_DNAt1A/s72-c/P6200089.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-7212897763544970572</id><published>2009-07-08T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T18:41:03.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh... why do I sign up for these?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So I did it. Ran the first 5K in 37 minutes. Definitely not a stellar performance as I got a side stitch and did this kind of spastic run hop the whole rest of the way. Not to mention someone who ran with me thought it would be funny to slap me on the butt when she ran by. Duh...what was that Newtons Law thing... about momentum? Anyway she hit me so hard my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ipod&lt;/span&gt; skipped a song. Then I ran with what felt like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hand print&lt;/span&gt; on my butt pushing me the rest of the way. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So why Per &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Se&lt;/span&gt; did I decide to sign up for another one this weekend? Because I'm a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;glutton&lt;/span&gt; for punishment. And running these (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;subsequently&lt;/span&gt; training for them) is keeping me in great shape. So here I am 3 days before the next one thinking... why? Plus it's hotter outside, although it will be at 9am. UGH... whine, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;complain&lt;/span&gt;, whine, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;complain&lt;/span&gt;. Here are some photos from the last race...&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVJMGI53bI/AAAAAAAAAGY/srqch4MhVJU/s1600-h/P5300387.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356267803982290354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVJMGI53bI/AAAAAAAAAGY/srqch4MhVJU/s200/P5300387.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My cheering section&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVJMlT0MYI/AAAAAAAAAGg/UuMf0Q3ques/s1600-h/P5300395.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356267812349555074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVJMlT0MYI/AAAAAAAAAGg/UuMf0Q3ques/s200/P5300395.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marisa holding my sign.  Now it's in my garage, I feel so motivated when I pull in the driveway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVJNTDiClI/AAAAAAAAAGo/wjNHchTMzuU/s1600-h/P5300392.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356267824629287506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVJNTDiClI/AAAAAAAAAGo/wjNHchTMzuU/s200/P5300392.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you look hard you can see me coming down the road, I'm wearing a purple shirt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVJNyqoMrI/AAAAAAAAAGw/cUq-fgVf-HU/s1600-h/P5300393.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356267833114768050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVJNyqoMrI/AAAAAAAAAGw/cUq-fgVf-HU/s200/P5300393.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And here I am running past my cheering section.  It was actually chilly that morning.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So be thinking of me Sunday morning while you all relax, I've decided to torture myself once again.   The Gallup Gallop, here I come!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-7212897763544970572?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/7212897763544970572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/07/ugh-why-do-i-sign-up-for-these.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7212897763544970572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7212897763544970572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/07/ugh-why-do-i-sign-up-for-these.html' title='Ugh... why do I sign up for these?'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SlVJMGI53bI/AAAAAAAAAGY/srqch4MhVJU/s72-c/P5300387.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-1066723907148741785</id><published>2009-04-25T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T09:43:06.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Training Log Day One</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SfM9jCeIRkI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Tw8Jm3m_3hM/s1600-h/homepagebanner_r1_c1%5B1%5D.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328670456277386818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 18px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SfM9jCeIRkI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Tw8Jm3m_3hM/s320/homepagebanner_r1_c1%5B1%5D.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Ok so I signed up for the Dexter Ann Arbor run. &lt;a href="http://www.dexterannarborrun.com/"&gt;http://www.dexterannarborrun.com/&lt;/a&gt; This is a 5K. I totally know I can do it, if I could just find time to train for it. Lately with how crazy work has been it's been beyond difficult to get to the gym. But seriously why is it harder to run outside than it is to run on a treadmill?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So my time on a treadmill is 35 minutes for the whole thing. Outside... more like 45. I really want to come in around 25 minutes. That is my goal. So today I have to wait until the kids are asleep and run on the treadmill. I'll update with my time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-1066723907148741785?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/1066723907148741785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/04/training-log-day-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/1066723907148741785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/1066723907148741785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/04/training-log-day-one.html' title='Training Log Day One'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SfM9jCeIRkI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Tw8Jm3m_3hM/s72-c/homepagebanner_r1_c1%5B1%5D.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-2626520594076929066</id><published>2009-04-10T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T11:35:25.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sd-Q0fe4O1I/AAAAAAAAAGI/Z-ByAyRXOuE/s1600-h/FF_button.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323132516053826386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sd-Q0fe4O1I/AAAAAAAAAGI/Z-ByAyRXOuE/s320/FF_button.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; Janna... been wanting to do this for awhile... Here it is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friday Favorites... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. GREAT WOLF LODGE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323128223249360962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sd-M6niiaEI/AAAAAAAAAFg/kNolXuq5tkg/s320/22_20A.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Here's to family togetherness. We actually have far too little. This was the most amazing way to spend three days together. The kids had a blast and so did we. I couldn't believe how brave they were (or how bad my photos turned out). Will definitely do next year. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323128225553345298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sd-M6wH2axI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Nf1HczSDca0/s320/02_0A.jpg" border="0" /&gt; 2. Nate's photo taking ability. I went to put the photos from our digital cameras on the computer this week and discovered that Nate has been photographing everything.... even the view up his nose. But along with that, his now cheesy smile and letting me take his picture, how great is that! &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323128232950371138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sd-M7LrcE0I/AAAAAAAAAFw/VL2zrQr5EBs/s320/12_10A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Again with Nate... Going pee standing up!!!! I don't think many people know what a huge accomplishment this actually is. I'm so proud of him, all we had to do was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bribe&lt;/span&gt; with a few jelly beans. Yuck jelly beans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Marisa. That child is seriously a bundle of energy right now. If she's going somewhere she is running, and not even running kind of a dance run. Hard to explain. She DOES remind me of me. She is passionate about everything. She is passionate that she wants JUICE instead of MILK. Passionate about wanting to be held, passionate about standing on the table. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ahh&lt;/span&gt; she does wear me down, but her smile and her imagination are so amazing I want to smooch her all day long.  Wait until she sees the outdoor playhouse Mommy scored for FREE for her birthday present!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323131357239505154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sd-PxCkA8QI/AAAAAAAAAF4/JurXI5Hv26s/s320/P3010046.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lifetime Fitness. I'm in love with my gym. I'm so comfortable there. I'm so excited about the way my body, stamina, and energy have progressed. And thankful to my family for allowing me the time to go every morning. I'm really lucky. &lt;a id="thumbnail" href="http://www.targetcenter.com/resources/images/general/lifetime_logo_body2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a id="thumbnail" href="http://deaftexas.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/lifetime_fitness_logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a id="thumbnail" href="http://deaftexas.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/lifetime_fitness_logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323132192612571490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 144px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sd-QhqkeWWI/AAAAAAAAAGA/MHgqXAgifFE/s320/lifetime_logo_body2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well there you have it. My first Friday Favorites.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-2626520594076929066?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/2626520594076929066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/04/ok-janna.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/2626520594076929066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/2626520594076929066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/04/ok-janna.html' title=''/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sd-Q0fe4O1I/AAAAAAAAAGI/Z-ByAyRXOuE/s72-c/FF_button.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-8926857588406058306</id><published>2009-03-08T12:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T12:07:27.594-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='naptime.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep'/><title type='text'>How long do I leave her there?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SbQXKWFcqSI/AAAAAAAAAFI/8bb-iTmhOmo/s1600-h/P1240741.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310895327071217954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SbQXKWFcqSI/AAAAAAAAAFI/8bb-iTmhOmo/s320/P1240741.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok.... I need some Mommy help. Once I let my children "cry it out" (scream endlessly for 3+ hours 4 nights in a row) we've not had many sleeping issues. Ok, Ok, Chris did sleep on the floor of Nate's room for 3 months straight, until I finally said enough is enough. But really, what do I do about Marisa right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We put her down to nap at 1:30. Now I do realize that it's possible that the time change is messing her all up. BUT she's been in her room playing in her crib for an hour and a half now. She's fine, not sad or angry. But Nate will soon wake up from his nap, and she hasn't even fallen asleep. Do I leave her in there? Or go get her and risk that a not yet 2 year old doesn't take a nap today, the thought makes my stomach upset. Or, worse than all that she falls asleep at like 3:30 and wants to sleep until 6. Ahhhh what to do! &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SbQXKk7CUnI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9_UFX4pQeKs/s1600-h/P1240742.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310895331054080626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SbQXKk7CUnI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9_UFX4pQeKs/s320/P1240742.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Believe it or not, that's Nate sleeping in there.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-8926857588406058306?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/8926857588406058306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-long-do-i-leave-her-there.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/8926857588406058306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/8926857588406058306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-long-do-i-leave-her-there.html' title='How long do I leave her there?'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SbQXKWFcqSI/AAAAAAAAAFI/8bb-iTmhOmo/s72-c/P1240741.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-8758870197482716880</id><published>2009-02-28T09:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T10:22:10.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'>big like daddy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Sometimes Nate says the cutest things. I feel like I miss some of them, he's not the most talkative child. (Except when he needs me!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today after lunch we were sitting and had on CMT. Marisa was reading books in my lap. Nate was having goldfish and pink lemonade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Momma, I want to be big." he said&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: "I like you the size you are, we have a lot of things to do before you get big."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nate: "Like go to school, and eat healthy foods?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: "Well yeah, that stuff, but we have a lot of memories to make before you get big."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nate: "What is a Memoly?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: "Things we do together, places we go, so we can remember and look back about it later"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nate: "We have a lot of pictures to take before I get bigger."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: "Yes exactly"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nate: "Well, I want to be big like Daddy, so I have to eat healthy food and sleep a lot, but don't worry Momma, I'll eat slow."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:-) awww...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nate Almost 2 years old  and Now (3.5 years)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sal-FO9xGfI/AAAAAAAAAEo/BvrqE5u5Xzo/s1600-h/P8030155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307912264214452722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sal-FO9xGfI/AAAAAAAAAEo/BvrqE5u5Xzo/s320/P8030155.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SamACBqjEhI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Q2scO_O8rcE/s1600-h/P8180100.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307914408127828498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SamACBqjEhI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Q2scO_O8rcE/s320/P8180100.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sal-8iAbprI/AAAAAAAAAE4/tIct7M6Gdqg/s1600-h/P9110202.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-8758870197482716880?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/8758870197482716880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/big-like-daddy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/8758870197482716880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/8758870197482716880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/big-like-daddy.html' title='big like daddy'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/Sal-FO9xGfI/AAAAAAAAAEo/BvrqE5u5Xzo/s72-c/P8030155.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-7443116935398349115</id><published>2009-02-27T17:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T17:37:32.903-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hand washing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soap'/><title type='text'>Hand Washing Tutorial by Marisa</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hand Washing Toddler Style&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiUEmgqIFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/MJBVRpPNHeo/s1600-h/PC200610.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307654967634042962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiUEmgqIFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/MJBVRpPNHeo/s320/PC200610.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; First you use some soap and wait for it to magically come out of the bottle onto your hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307655174785480786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiUQqNaOFI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7fTjFF0Yvyo/s320/PC200611.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Giving up on soap, you touch just the fingertips (of course the DIRTIEST part of your hand) under the water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiT7eUUIkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/q0AGm6bav8o/s1600-h/PC200609.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307654810815963714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiT7eUUIkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/q0AGm6bav8o/s320/PC200609.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then you knock the soap over into the sink and yell at Mommy to pick it up for you.   &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307655306665051362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiUYVf8xOI/AAAAAAAAAEg/8Bb35TWVRcs/s320/PC200612.JPG" border="0" /&gt;And Repeat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-7443116935398349115?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/7443116935398349115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/hand-washing-tutorial-by-marisa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7443116935398349115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7443116935398349115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/hand-washing-tutorial-by-marisa.html' title='Hand Washing Tutorial by Marisa'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiUEmgqIFI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/MJBVRpPNHeo/s72-c/PC200610.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-5206108720696129152</id><published>2009-02-27T17:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T17:30:32.995-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='groceries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Food Obsessed</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiTda80veI/AAAAAAAAAEA/68821xuu9RI/s1600-h/P2150785.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307654294516055522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiTda80veI/AAAAAAAAAEA/68821xuu9RI/s320/P2150785.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Groceries... really... that should be a sentence all by itself. Here I'll say it again... Groceries. I can't believe I spent $250 at the grocery store. I'm trying to be all healthy and cheap at the same time. It really doesn't go together. Because the only thing that is cheap at our grocery store are Hungry Man dinners. Gross Gross Gross. No thanks. Plus the fact that my kids refuse to eat anything but name brand of their favorite goodies. Nathan actually knows when I replace his beloved Cheeze-its with Cheese Nips. Marisa will throw her cup of juice on the ground if it's not Juicy Juice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Plus I'm pretty sure that the kids ate $25 of the groceries I purchased when they got home from school today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nate: 2 bananas, 1 apple, half of the watermelon that I cut up and put in the fridge. 1 pork chop, 6 baby carrots, and I caught him sneaking a cereal bar that I made him put back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marisa 1 banana, 1 apple, 4 baby carrots, 1 cup of pirate booty, sliced mushrooms, 2 glasses of milk, one glass of juice and 1/2 a pork chop. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, I was using Pirate Booty as the "grain" during dinner. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's as though my children actually know when food is "fresh"... I had to tell Nate he couldn't have 3 bananas tonight. Now my fruit bowl looks naked... sigh. Well we had a full fridge for about an hour. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiSuFHgE3I/AAAAAAAAADw/7MferzIWYxM/s1600-h/P2070775.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307653481201406834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiSuFHgE3I/AAAAAAAAADw/7MferzIWYxM/s320/P2070775.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  It's no wonder my kids are so big!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-5206108720696129152?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/5206108720696129152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/food-obsessed.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5206108720696129152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5206108720696129152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/food-obsessed.html' title='Food Obsessed'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SaiTda80veI/AAAAAAAAAEA/68821xuu9RI/s72-c/P2150785.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-7618670246151858779</id><published>2009-02-20T15:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T18:10:34.776-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ann Arbor Hands On Museum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair cuts'/><title type='text'>NATE AND MOMMY'S DAY OUT!</title><content type='html'>This week I was on "vacation" (taking time off work to eat up my vacation time before my year rolls). On Friday I planned a special day for just Nate and I. Usually when I'm home, Marisa is attached to me somehow, somewhere, and I get very little time for just him. So our day was supposed to go something like this....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up and have breakfast...Daddy takes Risa to school.... Nate and Mommy get ready and go to the Ann Arbor Hands On Museum &lt;a href="http://www.aahom.org/"&gt;http://www.aahom.org/&lt;/a&gt; ... go get some lunch... take a nap (for both of us :-) then make some cupcakes... go get Nate's haircut... pick up Marisa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know a hefty list of things for one small day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's how it actually went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy and Marisa leave a little late, which makes getting ready a little late for us. Nate is unbelievably agreeable today. (Really odd) so he is in the garage before I can even get my shoes on. Once we get in the car we are on our way. Of course once we start to leave the real Nate shows up in my backseat. First he doesn't like the direction we are driving out of the neighborhood. Then he yells at me for how loud my car is during acceleration onto busy Geddes. Then he really hates that we have to wait at a red light, because "red is not his favorite color, he doesn't love it." Once we get downtown, he continues to ask me every time I turn onto a new street, why we are on this street? and my favorite? "Why are we going &lt;em&gt;this &lt;/em&gt;way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we get to the parking ramp, park the car and get out. Let the meltdown begin. Totally chaos over leaving the car. "&lt;em&gt;why can't we take our car with us?" "Why do we have to leave our car here?" &lt;/em&gt;Now this is NOT the first time we have parked in a parking lot, although you'd think it is, nor is it the first time in a parking ramp. 1/8 of the walk to the museum from the parking ramp and I hear sobbing coming from the child clutching my hand.&lt;br /&gt;"Nate, what is wrong? Why are you sad?"&lt;br /&gt;"It's too cold, I want to go home!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I picked him up and walked the 1/2 mile carrying a 50lb child, while we were passed by every toddler walking with her mommy. Chanting over and over in my head... "he WILL have a good time, this is totally worth it".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we finally got there, all we had to do was walk down the musical steps and he was in 3 year old heaven. Here are photos of some of his favorite activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9egyhHpGI/AAAAAAAAAC4/H8spV0jYaOA/s1600-h/Nate+AAHOM+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305062803475244130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9egyhHpGI/AAAAAAAAAC4/H8spV0jYaOA/s200/Nate+AAHOM+013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9fBVEfvHI/AAAAAAAAADI/uOv_2IZnZco/s1600-h/Nate+AAHOM+019.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Driving the Ambulance&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9ew70Y2lI/AAAAAAAAADA/c3G5Le1bkH4/s1600-h/Nate+AAHOM+021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305063080849889874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9ew70Y2lI/AAAAAAAAADA/c3G5Le1bkH4/s200/Nate+AAHOM+021.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Making a giant bubble!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9fOa221wI/AAAAAAAAADQ/1EeQN3vnKK0/s1600-h/Nate+AAHOM+019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305063587397949186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9fOa221wI/AAAAAAAAADQ/1EeQN3vnKK0/s200/Nate+AAHOM+019.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rock Climbing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9f3Df-l4I/AAAAAAAAADg/z31wr94fB6U/s1600-h/Nate+AAHOM+031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305064285502609282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9f3Df-l4I/AAAAAAAAADg/z31wr94fB6U/s200/Nate+AAHOM+031.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Water Table&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, nap time came. After 5 minutes in his room he came out and said, "I sleeped... I'm all done!" Ummm no. After nap and with no time to bake cupcakes we headed off to get his haircut. Now if you know my child, we haven't had the greatest experiences with ummmm anything. Haircutting is actually the worst (because it happens so often) my sweet, loving, somewhat agreeable child turns into demon child. I seriously expect his head to spin around. He started crying (and chanting) about a mile away. The chant went like this. "&lt;strong&gt;I don't &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt; to get my haircut, you are not my best friend!, I'm sad at you momma!&lt;/strong&gt; (repeat cycle)" He &lt;em&gt;almost&lt;/em&gt; walked in the building all by himself. Side note... This is a &lt;em&gt;children's haircut place &lt;/em&gt;the inside looks like an arcade, there is a TV at every station, and he gets to pick his DVD. There is a huge slide and when he's done he gets a sucker &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;a balloon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I dragged him through the open door, (the chant continued) and tried to pretend it wasn't a big deal that my 3 1/2 year old child was sobbing hysterically. I hung my coat up, went over and wrestled his coat off him. Other mommy's looked at me not even sympathetically, more like pathetically. I'm sure thinking, I somehow could control this. (This is the child that has to wear a straight-jacket at the dentist-seriously!) I had to hold him on my lap through the entire ordeal, literally restraining him, and he's so much stronger than he used to be! Of course Alicia who cuts his hair, never remembers this demon child, and tells me every time, he wasn't like this last time... OH YES HE WAS, although he's bigger, and stronger now, I tipped her half the cost of the cut and ran out of there. I'm starting to think that 70's hippie hair look, might work for Nate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all is said and done, we really did have a great day. Moments with him young and so loving are dwindling I know, I must take all I can get now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-d847ed8cb4807f5" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0d847ed8cb4807f5%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331811039%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7B0E4CF95F6BA9E14EC3D8F34D64CB20B3F552EF.63625DD73E9CD2B19A5C59034DB6212230565BB3%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd847ed8cb4807f5%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DdPosGLJZ9ZQRQzYdn2AtuYrLOlY&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0d847ed8cb4807f5%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331811039%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7B0E4CF95F6BA9E14EC3D8F34D64CB20B3F552EF.63625DD73E9CD2B19A5C59034DB6212230565BB3%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd847ed8cb4807f5%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DdPosGLJZ9ZQRQzYdn2AtuYrLOlY&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-7618670246151858779?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=d847ed8cb4807f5&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/7618670246151858779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/nate-and-mommys-day-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7618670246151858779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7618670246151858779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/nate-and-mommys-day-out.html' title='NATE AND MOMMY&apos;S DAY OUT!'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SZ9egyhHpGI/AAAAAAAAAC4/H8spV0jYaOA/s72-c/Nate+AAHOM+013.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-64726548662473572</id><published>2009-02-01T11:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T11:41:08.654-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ice festival'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cold weather'/><title type='text'>10 degrees and we are doing WHAT?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYX6g-VJN1I/AAAAAAAAACo/_x48uoyy0iA/s1600-h/P1250744.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297915981065697106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYX6g-VJN1I/AAAAAAAAACo/_x48uoyy0iA/s320/P1250744.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYX5hCMnunI/AAAAAAAAACg/q6zKvm1qOEs/s1600-h/P1250744.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ahhh&lt;/span&gt; the Plymouth ice festival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After we got home I couldn't help but wonder... was it worth it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As soon as the kids got up from nap, we dressed them in all their snow gear, kicking and screaming the entire time. Head to toe in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cushiony&lt;/span&gt; water &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;repellent&lt;/span&gt; fabric. Marisa crying the entire time. Nate telling us he didn't want to go ANYWHERE! Halfway through getting him dressed, brilliant me remembered that he hadn't gone pee. Which completely threw my husband off the deep end. Calling the whole thing a stupid idea, throwing boots around... to which my daughter just started laughing. I think it's actually quite hilarious when one of my kids laughs at Chris's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;hissy&lt;/span&gt; fits. It makes me smile, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I grew up experiencing those, and it's important to actually have perspective on how ridiculous it is for a grown adult to throw a fit. (Love you sweetie!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, parked far away, huge crowd, freezing temps. Nate didn't even look at a thing, just looked like Nanook of the North the whole time. Marisa had a great time. She tried to run ahead, talked to everyone, but unfortunately kept taking off her gloves. This little act made our trip very short. One hour after we got out of the car, we were back in. Although we did manage to purchase a bag of cotton candy. Although we didn't do much of anything when we were there, but walk in a big circle and look at ice. I still felt victorious that we had made a trip out of the house in the winter. Truly a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;rarity&lt;/span&gt; for us. I was however really disappointed that the children didn't get much out of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;UNTIL that night when Nate wanted to call his grandma. "Grandma! He said. Today I got cotton candy, and saw a dinosaur, and a castle and a BIG BEAR all made out of ice!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Huh, he doesn't even know, he made my victory seem that much sweeter! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-64726548662473572?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/64726548662473572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/10-degrees-and-we-are-doing-what.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/64726548662473572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/64726548662473572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/02/10-degrees-and-we-are-doing-what.html' title='10 degrees and we are doing WHAT?'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYX6g-VJN1I/AAAAAAAAACo/_x48uoyy0iA/s72-c/P1250744.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-5140892769990084827</id><published>2009-01-31T19:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T10:20:06.774-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The missing Pony</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYUTclpjyNI/AAAAAAAAACY/pTkyhdnHAu8/s1600-h/P9110216.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297661918534944978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYUTclpjyNI/AAAAAAAAACY/pTkyhdnHAu8/s320/P9110216.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A couple of Mondays ago I worked from home (took care of the kids and answered the phone) from 10-11 I have to do my reports. I set up the kid table. Gave Nathan a project (cutting lines on paper) and Marisa a new set of chunky crayons and a glue stick. They did their work, I did mine. After we had finished (and Elmo was singing his last song) I said, "you were both so quiet-(should have been my first clue)- and let Mommy work, would you like a popsicle now?" I picked up Marisa and noticed. instead of her pig-tail there was a nub. So I turned her phew the other one was still there. "Marisa! Where is your piggie?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Nay-Nate" was all she said. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I said... "NNNNNAAAATTTHHHHAAANNNN, (very controlled low-talking-but-yelling) where is Marisa's pig tail?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Calmly he pointed to the ground... "Right there"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And there it was.... my daughters once perfect little curl, feathered all over the floor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Sigh* Nate what did you do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Risa did it" was his answer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Sigh*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So three hours later we are at the hair cutting place for an unscheduled trim of the mullet. No more party in the back.... it's business all over now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-5140892769990084827?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/5140892769990084827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/missing-pony.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5140892769990084827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5140892769990084827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/missing-pony.html' title='The missing Pony'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYUTclpjyNI/AAAAAAAAACY/pTkyhdnHAu8/s72-c/P9110216.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-1036404553950517012</id><published>2009-01-31T18:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T19:02:20.294-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Max'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='smelly dog'/><title type='text'>Max aka "Pig Pen"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYUQfzaEReI/AAAAAAAAACQ/WERtbPiRmp8/s1600-h/P5170052.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297658675232785890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYUQfzaEReI/AAAAAAAAACQ/WERtbPiRmp8/s320/P5170052.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really can't believe how disgusting my dog is. I think he's seriously about as disgusting as he is lazy. The two really go hand in hand. I used to have this roomate. He smelled. Like BAD. I seriously don't really remember him ever washing his clothes, and I think he took very few showers. Hence the lazy + disgusting group fit. Max is one of those. Even if dogs could shower he wouldn't. He would lay around all day long stinking up the joint. Occasionally bothering himself enough to lift his leg, lick his doggy parts or actually do the "Max Olympics" and completely turn his head all the way to his backside to sniff it. Today was definitely the cake topper. I open the back door to let him in and notice that three feet from the door is a pile of poop... ON THE DECK. Are you kidding me? It's bad enough that we've gotten so much snow this year that he continuously pees on the deck, but it wasn't even snowing! And Chris shoveled him a path. When I yelled at him "Max... did you seriously POOP on the deck???" (Like somebody else might have???) He gave me the doggy version of the middle finger... The LOOOONG stare. Now I love this dog, he's sweet (even to babies that pull his ears) and very loving. But today, he stinks. In fact I'm one room away from him, and I can smell the gas from here.... ooooo Max. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-1036404553950517012?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/1036404553950517012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/max-aka-pig-pen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/1036404553950517012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/1036404553950517012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/max-aka-pig-pen.html' title='Max aka &quot;Pig Pen&quot;'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SYUQfzaEReI/AAAAAAAAACQ/WERtbPiRmp8/s72-c/P5170052.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-966823214546967157</id><published>2009-01-10T09:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T10:02:24.275-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes, I'll have...</title><content type='html'>Probably the MOST &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;embarrassing&lt;/span&gt; thing I've done in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;LOOOONNNGGG&lt;/span&gt; while happened last Tuesday during my weekly division conference call. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some back-story.  I got a new GPS for Christmas, I do love it.  I just haven't figured out all the functions, and perhaps the most annoying function (which I thought I'd love) is the blue tooth capability.  I can't enter my car (if it's plugged in) without the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;blue tooth&lt;/span&gt; picking up my phone.  Really annoying when I'm in the middle of a call.  This particular day I though it was nice that my conference call would be on speaker and easier for me to drive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Per usual I went to Starbucks on my way into the office.  When I got there I muted my phone, and my GPS.  How strange all of a sudden I couldn't hear anyone.  So I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;unpushed&lt;/span&gt; mute.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ahhh&lt;/span&gt; they were still there.  So I re-muted, quiet again.  Now thinking that mute meant mute I went ahead and ordered my triple shot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;grande&lt;/span&gt; vanilla latte.  Even spoke to the woman about combining my gift cards. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I got my drink, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-muted my conference call and they were going on about marketing plans and blah blah blah.  Now much happier, I kept driving to work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of our call every week the boss asks us if we have anything we'd like to share with the group.  When she got to me she asked.... "Amber, how is your triple shot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;grande&lt;/span&gt; vanilla latte"&lt;br /&gt;Holy CRAP!   Apparently not only had they heard the whole conversation, they had been laughing at me the whole time, but of course I couldn't hear them as MUTE on my GPS means you hear me, I can't hear you...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-966823214546967157?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/966823214546967157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/yes-ill-have.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/966823214546967157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/966823214546967157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/yes-ill-have.html' title='Yes, I&apos;ll have...'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-4721426837710219776</id><published>2009-01-10T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T09:54:38.498-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The huh.. whatdidyousay... and ehhh?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; I've decided I definitely live in the house of the deaf. It's so ridiculous, since Chris got a cold, his ears have been so plugged. Not that it wasn't bad before, it's terrible now. Half the time I know he didn't hear me, so he just half smiles when I talk. Other times it's like this conversation like we are 90 and trying to communicate through our hearing aids. Like take today for example. A simple, should I answer this call coming through caller ID took on a totally different tone. As I'm on the phone with my sister a call came through....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey do you know Sue &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Fleuren&lt;/span&gt; (I pronounced it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Flure&lt;/span&gt;-en)&lt;br /&gt;Husband: What? (my absolute favorite of the I-can't-hear-yous)&lt;br /&gt;Me: Do you know a Sue &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Fleuren&lt;/span&gt;. She's calling right now?&lt;br /&gt;Husband: Who's calling who?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Caller Id is going off and it SAYS Sue &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Flueren&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Husband: I don't know a Sue &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Flueren&lt;/span&gt; (by now the beeping has stopped)&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well it's too late anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Husband: It's not too late, you could look at the phone to figure out who it is.&lt;br /&gt;Me: No, it's too late to answer it, they hung up&lt;br /&gt;Husband: Who hung up? Your sister?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No Sue &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Fleuren&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Husband: I don't know a Sue &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Fleuren&lt;/span&gt;, I know a Joe &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Fleuren&lt;/span&gt; (he pronounced it Flu-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;ren&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well I think he was trying to call you.&lt;br /&gt;Husband: He must have been trying to call me at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH MY &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;GAWWWWDDDD&lt;/span&gt;!!!! &lt;br /&gt;By this time my sister is yelling in the background....&lt;br /&gt;So freaking annoying.  Now Marisa has started to say it as a way to answer a question....&lt;br /&gt;Marisa do you want more ketchup?  Huh?  -She answers.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, no wonder I like going to work, people listen to me there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-4721426837710219776?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/4721426837710219776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/huh-whatdidyousay-and-ehhh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/4721426837710219776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/4721426837710219776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/huh-whatdidyousay-and-ehhh.html' title='The huh.. whatdidyousay... and ehhh?'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-6211163013201464571</id><published>2009-01-02T18:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T18:52:06.697-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My new favorite quote</title><content type='html'>I had to write down my old favorite quote for 2008 on my previous post.  I do believe I quoted my son's "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pinkalicious&lt;/span&gt;" book when I said... "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit"  also something the 4 year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt; used to say when I was a preschool teacher.  I think that really fits in with the belief that you should enjoy what you have and not always want want want. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now today I remembered a quote told to me by a peer at work.  She said it about someone else, but I find myself repeating it to myself to keep my own mouth shut.  Ready?  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, enough suspense here it is....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Know your role and shut your hole." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, the world is full of too many people who think everyone should be interested in what they have to say.  I believe that is why we have outlets such as Blogger, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;MySpace&lt;/span&gt; (which is really not any fun anymore).  Once I had this new quote in my mind all day I constantly found people violating it!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The server at the restaurant that speculated why her customer's credit card was declined, loud enough for us to hear 3 tables over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher at the school I was at today trying to tell ME how to arrange a classroom... as if!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me when I got irritated at said teacher who doesn't work for me but for my peer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The salesperson at a clothing store that gave my co-worker unsolicited advice about how a shirt would look better if only her bra gave her more cleavage.  Seriously!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan (age 3) when he tried to tell me how to drive home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then when I read Marisa's daily sheet from child care that said she "was a big helper today, she tried to get all her friends to come to the table when it was lunch time and she encouraged them to clean up"   NOW my daughter doesn't &lt;em&gt;encourage&lt;/em&gt; anyone to do anything she grabs your shirt, pushes and pulls... she is 20 months of course, encouraging isn't &lt;em&gt;urgent &lt;/em&gt;enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that quote.  And then my one that I found today that I will use at work with my team....&lt;br /&gt;"If you always do what you always did, you will always get what you always got."&lt;br /&gt;Ahh quotes, one of my favorite pastimes, if you have any good ones, leadership quotes are my fav... pass them on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's actually a very fun game if you are feeling cynical, try it and I think you will agree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-6211163013201464571?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/6211163013201464571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-new-favorite-quote.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6211163013201464571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6211163013201464571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-new-favorite-quote.html' title='My new favorite quote'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-5092683988813279163</id><published>2009-01-01T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T11:08:15.212-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I will remember and not miss about 2008.</title><content type='html'>I've decided to inlude a few snapshots of the worst moments and best of 2008...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Worst Moments....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286398722850139698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SV0PoUCPrjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/ISmqpOEzvgc/s320/July+3,+2008+024.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate's teeth being knocked out by "The sensory table" 5 dentist appointments later, including the one with the straight jacket when he was yelling... "Momma, SAVE ME" wow, not a great mommy moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286399695211101842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SV0Qg6XKfpI/AAAAAAAAAAw/5WzSUfDFOw4/s320/P8200181.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Ahh My Hero. Jake. Jake and I fell in love in May of 1997 and we were together ever since. Through boyfriends, and new husband. New locations and puppies. He even gracefully tolerated the babies. He was the most wonderful and amazing dog. I was so lucky he chose us to be his family. It still makes me tear up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Great Moments....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-eeea9818942af7cf" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Deeea9818942af7cf%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331811039%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DA9457DFAE4C75474AAEB998465E3F754135B54F.6E6EFF74EAF29BEBD029A23C574DA08536CF1B6E%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Deeea9818942af7cf%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DVU2SvQIovEcn6SkSPztVNxg3J5E&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Deeea9818942af7cf%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331811039%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DA9457DFAE4C75474AAEB998465E3F754135B54F.6E6EFF74EAF29BEBD029A23C574DA08536CF1B6E%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Deeea9818942af7cf%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DVU2SvQIovEcn6SkSPztVNxg3J5E&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marisa walking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286401006813735346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SV0RtQdmabI/AAAAAAAAAA4/BAm7HRJhyg0/s320/PB140395.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;                                                          Ahhh Alone time with Chris! &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286402707167070210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SV0TQOxbSAI/AAAAAAAAABA/wVBhDU57CWI/s320/PC300231.JPG" border="0" /&gt;                                                         Me Then... January 2008...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286403147307792626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SV0Tp2bJuPI/AAAAAAAAABI/uBjZWCp_ems/s320/PB140421.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                           Me now November 2008, I know it's hard to see, but 30 pounds lighter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;There are more of course, but these are definitely the highlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-5092683988813279163?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=eeea9818942af7cf&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/5092683988813279163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-i-will-remember-and-not-miss-about.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5092683988813279163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/5092683988813279163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-i-will-remember-and-not-miss-about.html' title='What I will remember and not miss about 2008.'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SV0PoUCPrjI/AAAAAAAAAAo/ISmqpOEzvgc/s72-c/July+3,+2008+024.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-8887180422888669471</id><published>2009-01-01T10:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T11:41:46.712-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Helloooo 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a name="5772759229387442683"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ok, because I'm supposed to be working out while the kids sleep... I'll do this instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?&lt;br /&gt;Actually spent most of the year enjoying my children. Lost all my baby weight and then some. Took a Mommy and Daddy only vacation, turned 34!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?&lt;br /&gt;I never make any resolutions, I'd never keep them anyway, but if I would have I'm sure it would have been to lose weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Did anyone close to you give birth?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I had a couple friends have babies last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Did anyone close to you die?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Jake. Sniff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What countries did you visit?&lt;br /&gt;Countries? HA! I did go to New Orleans LA and Florida this year, that's the extent of my traveling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?&lt;br /&gt;More financial stability. Wouldn't everyone? Greater clarity into how to continue successfully with a new team at my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?&lt;br /&gt;June 12th 2008. When one of my employees made a huge mistake and it became a downward spiral for me in '08 September 21st 2008, we had to put Jake to sleep. May 14th Nate broke his teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was your biggest achievement of the year?&lt;br /&gt;My two beautiful children&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. What was your biggest failure?&lt;br /&gt;Read the above about work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Did you suffer illness or injury?&lt;br /&gt;Typical illnesses, that's about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What was the best thing you bought?&lt;br /&gt;My favorite pair of black pants, OH and my treadmill. Lot's of new bras and underwear from use on my treadmill... bye bye old maternity granny panties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Whose behavior merited celebration?&lt;br /&gt;My kids, my husband, Max recovering into single dogdum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?&lt;br /&gt;Read above about employee... and then 2 other employees after her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Where did most of your money go?&lt;br /&gt;Food, clothes for kids and HOLY CRAP Marisa uses a lot of diapers!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?&lt;br /&gt;President Elect Obama. Nathan had a great birthday party. My vacation with Chris, my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. What song will always remind you of 2008?&lt;br /&gt;I'm Yours by Jason Mraz, Sorry by Buckcherry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Compared to this time last year, are you:&lt;br /&gt;a) About the same, or leaning toward sadder...&lt;br /&gt;b) thinner or fatter? thinner- THINNER!!!&lt;br /&gt;c) richer or poorer? POORER BOO!&lt;br /&gt;18. What do you wish you’d done more of?&lt;br /&gt;Exercise!&lt;br /&gt;19. What do you wish you’d done less of?&lt;br /&gt;working&lt;br /&gt;20. How did you spend Christmas?&lt;br /&gt;With my family.&lt;br /&gt;21. Did you fall in love in 2008?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, sustained the marriage love, grew into deeper love with both kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. What was your favorite TV program?&lt;br /&gt;How I met your mother, Rock of Love (say it loud and proud!) House Hunters, Kitchen Nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?&lt;br /&gt;Nope.&lt;br /&gt;24. What was the best book you read?&lt;br /&gt;Book? HA! I read only one book. The Jon and Kate plus 8 book... so I guess that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. What was your greatest musical discovery?&lt;br /&gt;Jason Mraz, although I knew of him before, fell in love this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. What did you want and get?&lt;br /&gt;A new office with a door and window! A new car. A new phone. A new computer. Thank you work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. What did you want and not get?&lt;br /&gt;Another year with Jake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. What was your favorite film of this year?&lt;br /&gt;Knocked up. I know... very shallow, I hope that was this year :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?&lt;br /&gt;Went to lunch with Janna and my mom (day after)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?&lt;br /&gt;If the stupid things at work had not happened, Nate hadn't broken his teeth (5 dentist appts later).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?&lt;br /&gt;Dressy and jewlery!&lt;br /&gt;32. What kept you sane?&lt;br /&gt;Wine, good employees, reality tv.&lt;br /&gt;33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?&lt;br /&gt;None.&lt;br /&gt;34. What political issue stirred you the most?&lt;br /&gt;Easy, Universal Preschool, Quality Rating System for Childcare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Who did you miss?&lt;br /&gt;Jason and Jake.&lt;br /&gt;36. Who was the best new person you met?&lt;br /&gt;Definitely Kyra at work.&lt;br /&gt;37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.&lt;br /&gt;You get what you get and you don't throw a fit.&lt;br /&gt;0 comments:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="comment-form"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Post a Comment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a id="comment-editor-src" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment-iframe.g?blogID=2841947149032712934&amp;amp;postID=5772759229387442683"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Profoundly Inarticulate" href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/11025226200022095877" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Neil" href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/05191467009055093356" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Amber" href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Sarah Murrey" href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/16180565803520116539" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Kristy Listy" href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/04258637692109168359" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="The Rambler" href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/10409123245867533569" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="Julia" href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/14750362656434125400" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a class="quickedit" title="Edit" onclick="'return" href="http://www.blogger.com/rearrange?blogID=2841947149032712934&amp;amp;widgetType=HTML&amp;amp;widgetId=HTML9&amp;amp;action=editWidget" target="configHTML9"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a class="quickedit" title="Edit" onclick="'return" href="http://www.blogger.com/rearrange?blogID=2841947149032712934&amp;amp;widgetType=HTML&amp;amp;widgetId=HTML8&amp;amp;action=editWidget" target="configHTML8"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a class="quickedit" title="Edit" onclick="'return" href="http://www.blogger.com/rearrange?blogID=2841947149032712934&amp;amp;widgetType=HTML&amp;amp;widgetId=HTML4&amp;amp;action=editWidget" target="configHTML4"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-8887180422888669471?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/8887180422888669471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/helloooo-2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/8887180422888669471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/8887180422888669471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2009/01/helloooo-2009.html' title='Helloooo 2009'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-6999227531514187645</id><published>2008-12-23T17:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T09:46:14.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What we will do to get a few more minutes sleep...</title><content type='html'>It's pretty pathetic what parents will do to just steal 1 even 2 precious minutes of slumber... here are some of my favorites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate comes in the bedroom and because it's dark outside in the morning, we tell him it's still nighttime and to go back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We haven't had a monitor on for Marisa since she was 7 or 8 months. She just has to get up with the rest of the family. If she happens to wake up before anyone else, she will play in her crib until someone comes to get her. The other day I caught her peeling the flower stickers off her wall....hmmm wonder how long she was awake. She gets so excited when anyone walks in. She screeches and jumps up and down, like she's been awake for &lt;em&gt;hours.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The classic, "I can see the bathroom light is on, but I'll lay here and pretend to be asleep so that Chris gets up"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Daddy gets up and turns on a show for Nate and comes back to bed. Even better, when he turns on a movie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hide and seek... hiding in my bed, anyone's bed or under a big blanket on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even with the best of intentions, one of us is always up by 6:45, and the other inevitably at 7:15 - and that person gets the added bonus of being woken up by a naked baby, because Marisa likes to run around naked when you take her diaper off in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even worse is how we are woken up. Nate likes to poke his target in the middle of the back, saying "I'm awake!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I woke up to... "Momma, I have poop in my butt" - Not what you want to hear first thing in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes he just stares at me from 2 inches away, and I wake up to two eyes staring at mine at "smell your breath" closeness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-6999227531514187645?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/6999227531514187645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-we-will-do-to-get-few-more-minutes.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6999227531514187645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6999227531514187645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-we-will-do-to-get-few-more-minutes.html' title='What we will do to get a few more minutes sleep...'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-4443763585704872556</id><published>2008-12-23T17:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T18:14:51.047-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='keys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cell phone'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lost'/><title type='text'>Losing Things...</title><content type='html'>Ahhhhh I couldn't be more frustrated. Today I lost my cell phone. MY CELL PHONE which in my job is a life line. Not only that, it's my company issued cell phone. Ugh. What is even more frustrating is that I remember last using it on my way home from Meijer, which technically should tell me that it's in my car or my house. However, I can't find it, and I've called it something like 37 times and I can't even hear it ringing. Today I had the most perfect day, and then this. I can't win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can things get &lt;em&gt;lost&lt;/em&gt;? Really, how DOES that happen? I remember when Nate was about a year, I lost my car keys. Completely gone. We never found them. It's not as if he put them in the pocket of his baby cargo pants and took them to the bar and dropped them in the toilet when he was going to the bathroom (no that's what I always did with my pager). I mean seriously here, where in God's name could he have put them. We looked everywhere and since then we have rearranged all rooms, and switched bedrooms. They have vanished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 4 years prior to that I lost another set of keys at a Parent/Child playgroup I was running. Same thing, just totally disappeared, never found again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's no wonder I feel like I'm about to go crazy half the time, I can't keep track of anything anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-4443763585704872556?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/4443763585704872556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/losing-things.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/4443763585704872556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/4443763585704872556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/losing-things.html' title='Losing Things...'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-3369560012231314787</id><published>2008-12-20T11:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T11:30:06.488-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Terrible TV'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mouth breathers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='over-committer'/><title type='text'>7 weird things about me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, Janna, you are strange... but I bet I can top you and I'll bet you know every single one of these too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  I really hate when anyone touches me when I'm sleeping.  No feet, no breath, and really hate "sleep jumpers" those people that jump just as they are falling asleep.  I also hate mouth breathers.... really really dislike it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  I'm EXTREMELY sensitive to smells.. good and bad.  I could describe in words to you how each one of my family members and some friends of mine smell.  I think it makes me a little canine-like.... but be that as it may, it's true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I exaggerate, now this isn't weird I realize... a lot of people do.  But, there is a scientific method to my exaggerations... I always add on 1 hour to any time detail I tell you.  I subtract 10 dollars from any sale item I got (mostly for my husband's sake) and I always subtract 5 pounds when I tell you my weight... which, why are you asking anyway? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I don't/can't watch the news.  Now I was never an avid CNN follower before, but now that I have children... no WAY.  I can't stand to think about how horrible it is out there for them.  I love to live in my bubble of family and not be sad.  I get very depressed if I read too much, and so... I don't.  I will read the cover page of my AOL when I open it (it has current events... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; and entertainment news).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I'm a ridiculous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;over-committer&lt;/span&gt;.  Or as I've told others, a yes-person.  Budget time at work is the worst for me, because I spend the whole time saying... YEAH, we can do it... sure no problem.  And then WHOOPS!  we didn't... no bonus for me.  ugh.  it's terrible.  I've been really bad at this FOREVER, just as my friend Mindy, she would totally agree.  Now I'm thinking about a second job, not because we need the money (although it couldn't hurt) but because I want to do it.  What is wrong with me, seriously?  I don't even see my friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I hate long toenails.  Ugh just the thought makes me cringe.  And both my kids won't let me trim them.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;AHHHH&lt;/span&gt;, drives me crazy, it's so disgusting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; last one, I can't watch any show that is some sort of investigation, science show, or the least little bit scary before bed.  Even dramas will keep me from sleeping.  As a result (and because the only time all day I watch TV is between 9:30 and 10:30), I watch really really bad TV.  Anything that will make me laugh, not think, and relax. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also quote really really bad TV, which is a terrible habit, and so bad it almost deserves it's own number.  Old Friends Episodes, Seinfeld, Tommy Boy, Back to the Future, my new favorite... How I met your mother, oh it's a really bad trait.  My favorite lines... Friends... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;MMMM&lt;/span&gt; Noodle Soup.  The scene from Tommy Boy where Chris Farley is explaining to David Spade in the restaurant why he can never make a sale.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-3369560012231314787?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/3369560012231314787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/7-weird-things-about-me.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/3369560012231314787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/3369560012231314787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/7-weird-things-about-me.html' title='7 weird things about me.'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-7492034182717748929</id><published>2008-12-20T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T11:02:33.213-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahhhh naptime</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Back when I was pregnant with Nate, I loved having Saturdays all to myself.  I did mostly nothing.  For as long as I can remember Chris has worked Saturdays, and as much as I hate the fact that Chris is gone all day long, there is one thing I love.... naptime.  Now you may think it's because I like to get a break.  Don't get me wrong, hell yes I do.  But it's more than that.  I love that my kids don't argue with me when it's naptime.  I love that Nathan just goes in the bathroom, pees and then waits for me in his bedroom to finish putting Marisa down.  I love that they lay in bed and play by themselves until they fall asleep... and they always fall asleep. It's like one great reward that my anal, routine making life created... and I LOVE IT.  Now the downside to this perfect schedule is that we can never go anywhere between the hours of 12 and 3.  But where do we really have to go in 8 inches of snow and 19 degrees?  Today I made Chex Mix for our company coming tomorrow and wrapped some presents.  But naptime also means I can take a nap, exercise and shower all before they get up.  Ok, so it has to be a really quick nap :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-7492034182717748929?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/7492034182717748929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/ahhhh-naptime.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7492034182717748929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/7492034182717748929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/ahhhh-naptime.html' title='Ahhhh naptime'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9064858681404324182.post-6953756585621921379</id><published>2008-12-10T19:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T19:47:17.648-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Someday Maybe</title><content type='html'>I used to have this God Awful clay hanging thing in my bedroom when I was little.  I couldn't even tell you what it was, but it had this phrase on it... "Someday Maybe"  I've loved that sentiment forever.  So much so, that after two glasses of wine (to help me sleep!) and waiting for the very slow kiddie kandids website to post our photo, I decided to start my own blog and name it that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh what to write about.. hold on.. checking other website.  Yep still excrutiatingly slow. &lt;br /&gt;I'm sure I have so much to say, that no one will really want to hear... yet here I am anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, this is enough for my first time.  Good effort!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9064858681404324182-6953756585621921379?l=bftnf2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/feeds/6953756585621921379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/someday-maybe.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6953756585621921379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9064858681404324182/posts/default/6953756585621921379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bftnf2.blogspot.com/2008/12/someday-maybe.html' title='Someday Maybe'/><author><name>Amber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16352545989324909458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vm-Nq03YkNw/SUCLyy-lwOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VF4dNSpfECE/S220/PB120368.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
