tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89214411200346073512024-03-14T00:52:14.398-04:00my stay-at-home momma dramamy stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.comBlogger368125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-39017683317639728242012-11-27T22:47:00.003-05:002012-11-29T19:50:12.717-05:00The Elf on Our Shelf<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;">You have heard of the new, spectacular Christmas phenomenon </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">known as the Elf on the Shelf . . . right?</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">You haven't?</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Stop it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Stop. It. Right. Now</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-walSa4sATWA/ULV3skvyy8I/AAAAAAAAEPI/A1C2KMfX0TU/s1600/elf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-walSa4sATWA/ULV3skvyy8I/AAAAAAAAEPI/A1C2KMfX0TU/s1600/elf.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;">You can buy an Elf on the Shelf at your local bookstore. In the box, you get an adorable little elf and a book to read to your children about how tough it is for Santa to determine who is naughty or nice. Santa needs the help of scout elves to help him keep an eye out, as the book describes. Once the children give the elf a name, he receives his "magic" . . . enabling him to fly to the North Pole every night to give Santa a behavior report. He then flies back before the children wake up in the morning to observe another day.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Of course, I convinced John we had to buy one and of course, he did. We read the story to the kids and they named our elf "Sunshine Jingle." Then . . .the magic started . . .and the good behavior began. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Now, at the mere hint of a problem, all I have to do is say "ELF!" and suddenly . . . magically . . . the situation resolves before Santa has to hear about it. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">I feel the author of this book should be awarded the Nobel prize for her gift to humanity. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">I am going to say that again.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">I feel the author of this book should be awarded the Nobel prize for her gift to humanity.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Her brilliance is a rare gift. Parents everywhere are making her rich . . . as they should be.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Now, it is not good enough to just hide the elf somewhere in the house for the children to find in the morning. Oh no! No no no!!! You need ideas of creative things the elf can be doing, like chillin' with Barbie in the hot tub or parachuting over the bannister. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Seriously not joking. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"> There are whole blogs dedicated to creative elf ideas. Many of them. Overeager parents everywhere are just giddy with excitement (me included.)</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NH9Z0LAQxrc/ULV3yNRhJKI/AAAAAAAAEPQ/gf9XueNkkdU/s1600/elfontheshelfideas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NH9Z0LAQxrc/ULV3yNRhJKI/AAAAAAAAEPQ/gf9XueNkkdU/s1600/elfontheshelfideas.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;">See what I mean?</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K08x1_0XUbU/ULV4M12SgJI/AAAAAAAAEPY/Jc7WY9ludI4/s1600/craycray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K08x1_0XUbU/ULV4M12SgJI/AAAAAAAAEPY/Jc7WY9ludI4/s1600/craycray.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Then these parents post pictures of what their elf is doing on the internet for everyone to enjoy. I did not take the above picture but I wish I had. That is hysterical.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">I said it before and I'll say it again . . .</span><br />
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<span style="color: red;">I feel the author of this book should be awarded a Nobel prize for her gift to humanity.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">Not to be outdone by random parents I don't know on the internet, I created my own little fun for our elf.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">The kids were beyond excited to find Sunshine playing Candyland with Elmo and the stuffed dog. I was beyond excited to enjoy their good behavior all day.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C8cgAlNbvdw/ULV4xyUFeYI/AAAAAAAAEQA/uwxA-VUrAYc/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C8cgAlNbvdw/ULV4xyUFeYI/AAAAAAAAEQA/uwxA-VUrAYc/s320/003.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="color: black;">The next night it was John's turn to help the elf find a resting spot. He decided a nice perch up high in the wreath in the family room would give Sunshine a nice vantage point. It was awesome! He could see everything from up there!</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">Tonight, I took our elf manipulation to the next level. I did something so dripping with evil brilliance, if they awarded a Nobel prize for the best Elf on the Shelf idea, I think I might have it in the bag.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">That is Sunshine . . . in the bathroom . . . on the doll house toilet with a newspaper under his arm . . . holding a sign that says "Santa wants Brendan to pee pee in the potty. I do too. Love, Sunshine"</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Shoot, if I can't get Brendan to cooperate with potty training, I'll bet Sunshine can. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Stay tuned for Sunshine's new adventures. I have a feeling he is going to have some around here</span><strike><span style="color: black;">.</span> </strike></div>
my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-21025955945563122012012-11-17T23:04:00.001-05:002012-11-17T23:04:36.688-05:00A Frosty Halloween<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MSaUvURwaiY/UKhKiWYKo9I/AAAAAAAAENQ/4i-aesVBRqM/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MSaUvURwaiY/UKhKiWYKo9I/AAAAAAAAENQ/4i-aesVBRqM/s320/004.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Halloween is kinda a big deal around here. We celebrate for a week straight because Halloween has everything a good holiday should have - chocolate, family fun, and chocolate. Oh yeah, and lots of opportunities to wow your kids with pancake batter. <br />
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Every year we have a pumpkin carving contest and every year I tell you how amazing it is that Megan carves her own pumpkin, start to finish, without any help . . . and every year, you are impressed. Right?<br />
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Right. You are totally impressed. John and I both carved pumpkins too but you'll have to take my word for it. We were too busy marveling at Megan's pumpkin (that truly belongs in the Guggenheim)to take pics of our own. <br />
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This year, instead of going to the city's Halloween party (and freezing our butts off outside), we opted to go to a different event called "Haunt the Halls" at the local high school. They had classrooms decorated and the kids got to trick or treat around the building. It had one major thing going for it . . . it was inside. Usually I am the one dragging everyone to the city party but this year I just didn't have it in me. I guess I'm getting old but standing outside for hours in cold, windy drizzle just didn't sound appealing. Not even for a free hot dog. Not even for a smore. Not even for a free pumpkin. John looked at me and said, "It's like I don't even know you anymore." Yes, John, this year I dressed up as someone who enjoys warm Halloweens.<br />
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Now, let me explain the costumes. Megan was Dorothy because her friend Jordis suggested Megan had the right hair to be Dorothy and Megan felt she had to take that responsibility seriously. My mom made the costume and Megan couldn't have been any more excited to wear it.<br />
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Brendan, on the other hand, chose his own costume. I take no responsibility. He said, "I wanna be a hot dog. I love hot dogs." I didn't even think there was a such thing as a hot dog costume but . . . the internet is a magical thing. You know, looking back I am glad I let him choose his own costume. He totally rocked that hot dog. He said he wants to be the Statue of Liberty or a pineapple next year. Speechless.<br />
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This is what fun looks like.</div>
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See, my kid wasn't the only one dressed up as junk food for Halloween!<br />
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A few days later it was time for trick or treat. It was still freezing. It was still raining. I was still less than excited about going outside. I wanted to stay home under an electric blanket . . . but I didn't. (I think this totally earned me breakfast in bed on Mother's Day, by the way.)<br />
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Jordis, aka the Wicked Witch of the West, came in to get warmed up as she made it through the neighborhood.<br />
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So did our friends Lauren and Evan. </div>
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At the end of the night, we all finally got under the electric blanket and ate and ate and ate . . . because all good holidays include chocolate, family fun, and chocolate. </div>
my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-76304934416843048302012-10-30T20:38:00.000-04:002012-10-30T20:38:30.881-04:00Keller Halloween Spooktacular 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every year we celebrate Halloween</div>
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by having a feast called the </div>
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Keller Halloween Spooktacular.</div>
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Like last year, Brendan decided</div>
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rather than eating he would</div>
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prefer to just sit there and</div>
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be cute. And beg for candy.</div>
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We feasted on a brain jello mold.</div>
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Gross.</div>
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I know.</div>
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Hello?</div>
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It is Halloween, remember.</div>
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Still gross.</div>
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Mummy dogs.</div>
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We have these every year.</div>
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You just can't do any better</div>
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than hot dogs and crescent rolls.</div>
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You just can't.</div>
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New addition - gross mouths.</div>
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No one but John ate them.</div>
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Brendan disposed of his </div>
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by shoving it in his drink.</div>
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He thought we wouldn't notice.</div>
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We did.</div>
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Cheesy boo-tatoes and plastic rats.</div>
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Yum!!!</div>
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Ghost cupcakes!</div>
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And creepy, crawly slug bug punch with </div>
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gummy worms.</div>
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Happy Halloween from the Kellers!!!!</div>
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Stay tuned for pics of the cutest Halloween costumes you've ever seen ever ever ever.</div>
my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-12853316253540594302012-10-30T20:19:00.002-04:002012-10-30T20:19:49.014-04:00 Part 3 - The Magic Kingdom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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First big roller coaster ride!!!!</div>
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It was awesome!!!</div>
my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-70591847856252459372012-10-13T22:16:00.000-04:002012-10-13T22:16:31.761-04:00Disney Vacation - Part Two<div style="text-align: center;">
Your eyes are not deceiving you. </div>
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I really blogged again. </div>
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Who knew all I had to do was open the</div>
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computer and start typing stuff.</div>
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Ahh, just like the good ole days.</div>
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</div>
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Now, where were we?</div>
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I was telling you every detail of our trip.</div>
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</div>
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We stayed at a fun resort that had</div>
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a lot of pools. One of the first things</div>
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we did was go swimming.</div>
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We hadn't even had time to buy</div>
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any pool toys but that didn't stop</div>
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Brendan.</div>
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He found a free one hanging on the wall near</div>
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the pool. Yes, I know that it is not a toy.</div>
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I figured if someone was actually drowning</div>
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we could get it back from him.</div>
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(Sorry about the blurry pic. </div>
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It is hard to take a clear photo when </div>
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you are laughing hysterically.) </div>
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Little buddies. That is my sister's son Carter, </div>
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aka "brother from another mother."</div>
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my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-75214797717810683742012-10-12T15:32:00.002-04:002012-10-12T15:53:18.567-04:00Disney Vacation - Part One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You are not seeing things. This is actually a new blog post. </div>
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No need to adjust your computer monitor. </div>
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</div>
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We took a Disney vacation and I figure,</div>
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when you drop that kind of dough you are obligated</div>
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to blog about it, don't you think?</div>
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Yep, blog about it AND remind your kids everyday</div>
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how much fun they had . . . so they never forget the week</div>
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you spent their college fund at Walt Disney World.</div>
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Just kidding . . . </div>
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</div>
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Since I have two hundred bazillion jagillion pictures, I figured I would</div>
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post nearly all of them and make you live every moment of our vacation with us.</div>
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The good news is two hundred bazillion jagillion pictures </div>
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won't all fit in one blog post, so you are guaranteed at least a couple more posts</div>
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before I fall off the face of the earth again.</div>
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Aren't you excited????</div>
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You better be!</div>
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</div>
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Our first stop was the T-Rex Cafe in Downtown Disney.</div>
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</div>
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That is a dinosaur in the mist back there.</div>
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Just didn't want you to miss it. </div>
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</div>
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Inside the restaurant, they have all kinds of animatronic <br />
dinosaurs that are completely still until your kid<br />
gets next to them. Then they start to move <br />
and growl and scare the crap out of </div>
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them. It is awesome.</div>
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Working up the courage to reach out and touch it.</div>
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</div>
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You know it . . . as soon as she got this close<br />
it came alive, started moving, and made<br />
her scream and jump 13 feet in the air. </div>
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Magical memories.</div>
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By the way, Brendan - lover of all things dinosaur <br />
and the reason we came here in the first place-</div>
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wouldn't get anywhere near the scary, <br />
giant things. Just imagine him sitting<br />
here next to Megan. Thanks for your<br />
cooperation.</div>
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John ordered a brontosaurus burger and <br />
ate the entire thing. I was shocked<br />
and impressed and disgusted <br />
all at the same time.</div>
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</div>
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Brendan asked for a plate of "nothing" (seriously)</div>
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and that is exactly what he got. <br />
We aim to please around here.</div>
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After we ate dinner and let all the dinosaurs </div>
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<strike>scare the pants off us </strike> provide an excellent <br />
learning opportunity, we went outside </div>
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to dig up some fake bones and pretend <br />
we were archeologists.</div>
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It was actually pretty cool and the kids </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
had a blast.</div>
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Then John found a hidden Mickey in the jeep<br />
outsidethe restaurant.</div>
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We are hidden Mickey nerds.<br />
Don't hate.</div>
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Then we walked around and bought a bunch</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
of stuff in the shops that the kids</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
will <strike>lose or break by next week</strike> </div>
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treasure forever.</div>
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That's my dad. Did I mention my parents<br />
came on this trip with us?</div>
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They did. <br />
So did my sister and her family,<br />
but they didn't come</div>
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to Downtown Disney this night.<br />
Confused yet? I hope not.<br />
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Then we went to the little arena and <br />
waited for a show to start. </div>
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They played some music and Brendan <br />
"the ham" stood in </div>
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the front and started dancing.</div>
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A little girl shyly walked up and <br />
started dancing with him.</div>
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Then they both realized it was awkward because she</div>
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was obviously much older and much taller.</div>
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Brendan aka "Daddy Mack" was a chick magnet <br />
that night, attracting the older chicks with<br />
his dance moves and swagger.</div>
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.<br />
<br />
The little girl went and sat back down with her parents<br />
and John bought a lemonade. Brendan grabbed the lemonade<br />
and ran right over and offered it to the little girl. What an adorable<br />
little gentleman! So glad she didn't take it or I would have had to go grab<br />
it back. That lemonade cost $6!! No joke.<br />
It was pretty cute, and I was laughing so hard I was crying.</div>
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</div>
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Then this happened. That is a tattoo the entire length of</div>
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Megan's forearm. It happened right after I told my dad</div>
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to please please please get her a SMALL tattoo if he insisted on </div>
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getting her one at all. Like, just a little Minnie Mouse on </div>
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her hand or something.</div>
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</div>
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I don't have a photo of myself looking at this tattoo </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
when Megan and my dad came back,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but if I did it would look something like this.</div>
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</div>
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Dad, I'm glad you found this so funny.</div>
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That tattoo will live forever in <br />
every. single. photo <br />
I have of Megan at Disney World.<br />
</div>
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Muchas gracias, dad!</div>
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</div>
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Then the kids rode a train and we went home.</div>
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</div>
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And I dreamt that night about taking a bottle of nail polish remover to that<br />
tattoo . . . . <br />
</div>
<br />my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-12311550295348001372012-06-19T09:47:00.002-04:002012-06-19T09:47:37.750-04:00Happy 6th Birthday, Megan!Megan's birth story . . . just for old time's sake. Happy 6th Birthday, Megan!!!!<br />
<br />
It was 2 days PAST my due date. I left my teaching job 2 weeks before because, quite frankly, I couldn't find clothes big enough to cover my entire belly (perhaps due to the 60-70 pounds of "baby fat" I was carrying around.) <br />
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</div>
<div>
Convinced I wouldn't be one of "those women" who look like they just fought (and lost) a war after giving birth, each day I would wake up, put on a full face of makeup, straighten my hair, put on an adorable matching sweatsuit and <strong>wait</strong> to go into labor. I imagined how put together I would look in the pictures taken after Megan's birth. I imagined people marveling that I was still wearing my lipstick. I would show the world that a woman could still look dignified after giving birth! I was going to be prepared!<br /><br />It was Father's Day (June 18, 2006) and contractions woke me up at about 6 am. By afternoon, they went away and I carried on as usual and went to my mom's for a Father's Day celebration. We left when I got a terrible backache. I came home and got into the bathtub to ease the pain. I was in the tub for hours and hours and hours while John fell asleep. (not that I'm STILL HOLDING THAT AGAINST HIM or anything.) It was fine, seriously. I mean, why shouldn't he have gone to sleep while he wife was in agonizing, miserable pain?<br /><br />I finally couldn't take one more second and told John to take me to the hospital. Remember my plan to have my hair done, cute sweatsuit on, blah blah blah? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ummmm</span> yeah, forgot all about that. My makeup was smeared all over my face and my hair air dried into a nice, frizzy bird's nest of gorgeousness. It was the wierdest thing . . . I didn't even think about how I looked as I was walking out of the house which is soooo unlike me. (When it was time to come home from the hospital, John gave me what I wore to the hospital to wear home. I looked at him and screamed, "YOU LET ME WEAR THAT OUT OF THE HOUSE???????" Yeah, so much for my plan.)<br /><br />I started begging for an epidural as soon as we got to the hospital, before we even arrived at Labor and Delivery. As a matter of fact, I think I may have begged a custodian for an epidural on the way up. While in triage, I had to go walk for an hour. They wanted to make sure I was really in labor and not just faking it, apparently. (John was thinking, "I'm pretty sure she's really in labor. Did you see what she's wearing? She made me stop on the way to the hospital so she could go peeps on the side of the road. This person in front of me is not behaving at all like my wife. She is in labor alright!"<br /><br />After those <s>witches </s>nurses in triage determined I was truly in labor, they moved me to a room. I continued begging for pain medicine to which, I was told, I had to wait. After 973489237070923840298870 hours went by (which was actually probably 1) I finally got some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Nubain</span> which made me feel glorious. Then Megan's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">heart rate</span> started having decelerations. At one point, about 10 people ran into my room and started yelling, "Roll over on all fours and put your backside in the air." Terrified, I did so immediately. Once her heart rate returned to normal and the panic was over, I realized my king sized, naked behind was sticking up in the air, facing towards the open door, and people were coming in and out. I asked, "Mom, will you please cover up my bum?" And I thought I was going to do this the dignified way. </div>
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</div>
<div>
Prior to going into labor, I was worried about the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">embarrassment</span> and the nakedness. People told me you're so wrapped up in the moment you just don't care. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Hmmmm</span>, that wasn't my experience. Not my experience at all. I cared.<br /><br />Next, the anesthesiologist came in to give me an epidural FINALLY and said, "Wow. You look different. The last time I saw you, you were on all fours with your a$$ in the air." He seriously said that. He was a pretty funny guy, only I didn't think that was funny at all.</div>
<div>
<br />The doctor came in to break my water and realized it was already broken. What??? How does your water break and you just don't notice??? Then I remembered back to the unholy pain of the bathtub and realized it happened way back then. "No wonder your contractions were so strong so early on!" Wow, if I hadn't been on an IV drip, catheterized, internally baby <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">monitorized</span>, and paralyzed from the chest down I would have gotten out of bed and gone on a murderous rampage, starting with the triage nurses that made me walk around to make sure I was<em> really in labor</em>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">AHHHHHHHHHHHH</span>!!!<br /><br />By now, it was morning and I had missed an entire night of sleep. I was hungry but no one cared. John went to get some food (because I insisted he eat.) I was so annoyed when he listened to me and told him, "In saying <em><span style="color: red;">go eat John</span></em> I really <span style="color: #3366ff;"><span style="color: black;">meant</span> <em>you better not eat a single bite until I'm allowed to, dammit</em></span>." I don't know why he was so confused. </div>
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</div>
<div>
By late afternoon, I was finally dilated to 10 centimeters and it was finally time to push.<br /><br />So I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I said words so terrible I'm not even sure I know how to spell them. I was pushing so long the nurses had a shift change. I was thinking, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Geesh</span>. Do I know you? No time for small talk or the 'getting to know you' awkwardness." My eyes were almost swollen shut, I had broken numerous blood vessels on my face, and I still didn't have a baby. The doctor came in and asked the nurses, "How long has she been at this? There is no excuse for this!" He told me that after 2 and a half hours of pushing, Megan just wasn't coming. They should have called the doctor in over an hour ago. They shouldn't have let me continue trying for that long. (Thanks, bitches. Oops, sorry that just slipped out.) She was stuck, so it was off for an emergency c-section.<br /><br />And this is how this story ends . . .</div>
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<br /> </div>
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<br />
The Best Moment of My Life!!! <br />
<br />
Happy 6th Birthday to my sweet girl! We have a full day ahead of us. Vacation Bible School, lunch at your favorite restaurant (Pizza Hut) with GG, Nana, Aunt Katie and your cousins, and a t-ball game. Then we will celebrate with a Hello Kitty party on the 30th with all your friends at the YMCA! <br />
<br />
You are very loved :)<br />my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-43119785457609999412012-06-07T22:54:00.002-04:002012-06-07T23:05:14.620-04:00The 7th Anniversary That Wasn'tLet's just imagine for a second your 7th wedding anniversary is approaching. How would you choose to celebrate that special milestone? Babysitter? Dinner by candlelight at your favorite restaurant? Cards and flowers and gifts? Perhaps even a little excursion out of town, just the two of you?<br />
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<br />
<br />
How about a trip to an indoor waterpark with your 5 year old and 2 year old? Hmm, not exactly what you had in mind? Now just imagine you (as in ME) booked a trip to an indoor waterpark to celebrate the end of the school year and perfect Kindergarten report card . . . NOT realizing it was your (as in our) 7th anniversary. <br />
<br />
That, my friends, is called a big<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"> <span style="color: red;">OOPS</span></span><span style="color: red;">.</span> A really big, totally fun, still had a good time, no nap, temper tantrum, laugh a minute, stop eating pretzels off the hotel room floor, no you can't have a $10 ice cream cone, don't poop in the swim diaper, didn't even sleep in the same bed on our anniversary, memory making, you better sit your behind down and eat because this buffet cost $22 bucks a person, bring me another martini, <span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">OOPS.</span><br />
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John and I laughed at what a difference 7 years makes.</div>
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After our wedding, we rented a private cabana right on the beach on the exotic island of Tortola for our honeymoon. We swam with dolphins and woke up to the sound of the waves crashing into the shore. All it took was 7 years and two kids later and we ended up at a waterpark in Sandusky, Ohio.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I wouldn't have it any other way.</span></div>
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</div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-38506646708891046022012-04-17T13:52:00.009-04:002012-04-17T21:21:29.103-04:00Small Farmers<div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Every day when I drop Megan off at school, </div><div align="center">Brendan cries because he want to go to school too.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Imagine my delight when I came across a little class for </div><div align="center">kids age 2-5 at the ecological center called</div><div align="center"> "Small Farmers."</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732433282730146178" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o89jRMbyyEU/T42xsuvBuYI/AAAAAAAAEAY/u5a7sZS-J0U/s400/002.JPG" />Today was Brendan's first day of "school." </div><div align="center">He was so excited!!!</div><div align="center">(Although any opportunity to wear his rubber Elmo boots</div><div align="center">equals a fantastic day in his book.)<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q0omAg30wkY/T42xsAay1fI/AAAAAAAAEAM/7_u4cwiGwew/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732433270297253362" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q0omAg30wkY/T42xsAay1fI/AAAAAAAAEAM/7_u4cwiGwew/s400/001.JPG" /></a>He kept stopping and yelling in his deep voice,</div><div align="center">"Momma, take a picture of me!"<br /><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OAm1evDeH5g/T42wp2TPr9I/AAAAAAAAD_0/CK_Q4Yih1RY/s1600/009.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732432133709869010" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OAm1evDeH5g/T42wp2TPr9I/AAAAAAAAD_0/CK_Q4Yih1RY/s400/009.JPG" /></a>The first thing he did was flash a cheesy grin with the baby chicks!<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rBEkBydkV28/T42wpGS5BHI/AAAAAAAAD_o/kzcwicBYhWQ/s1600/011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732432120823481458" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rBEkBydkV28/T42wpGS5BHI/AAAAAAAAD_o/kzcwicBYhWQ/s400/011.JPG" /></a>Then we moved on to the chickens.<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n91c3TAJGZY/T42woqD4BiI/AAAAAAAAD_c/_6rmHB-pSI8/s1600/012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732432113244309026" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n91c3TAJGZY/T42woqD4BiI/AAAAAAAAD_c/_6rmHB-pSI8/s400/012.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8TNBvHXrPLo/T42woHajI2I/AAAAAAAAD_Q/K3INrZNcPEI/s1600/013.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732432103944168290" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8TNBvHXrPLo/T42woHajI2I/AAAAAAAAD_Q/K3INrZNcPEI/s400/013.JPG" /></a>That is me feeding a chicken.</div><div>Not pictured: copious amounts of hand sanitizer; multiple applications :)<br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nTxFXp4Y5mc/T42voa_ZI_I/AAAAAAAAD_E/uz-6vo3DQeQ/s1600/014.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732431009687348210" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nTxFXp4Y5mc/T42voa_ZI_I/AAAAAAAAD_E/uz-6vo3DQeQ/s400/014.JPG" /></a>Brendan kept trying to get a chicken to eat out of his hands</div><div>but he wasn't quite gentle enough. </div><div>He was chasing them around yelling</div><div>"Here chicken!" </div><div>but they just ran away!<br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IxUV3FhdfSs/T42vn__mAdI/AAAAAAAAD-4/5CiSEWEZeJI/s1600/015.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732431002440434130" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IxUV3FhdfSs/T42vn__mAdI/AAAAAAAAD-4/5CiSEWEZeJI/s400/015.JPG" /></a>Then we went inside the chicken coop to gather eggs.</div><div><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rp6Cq1YZ1m8/T42vm_B8fUI/AAAAAAAAD-s/Qxgl5hpeucw/s1600/019.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732430985001991490" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rp6Cq1YZ1m8/T42vm_B8fUI/AAAAAAAAD-s/Qxgl5hpeucw/s400/019.JPG" /></a>We saw some farm animals and pet a baby</div><div>sheep named Francisco.<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8wBhmraItI/T42vmbD3UZI/AAAAAAAAD-g/HKYyjVoLomY/s1600/023.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732430975346364818" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8wBhmraItI/T42vmbD3UZI/AAAAAAAAD-g/HKYyjVoLomY/s400/023.JPG" /></a>Then we dug a little hole<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rCzb0GRUWSQ/T42vlvjFDgI/AAAAAAAAD-U/SgxBHRseA4I/s1600/024.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732430963666128386" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rCzb0GRUWSQ/T42vlvjFDgI/AAAAAAAAD-U/SgxBHRseA4I/s400/024.JPG" /></a>and planted a potato!<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--0JsedYGHWw/T42upyM8hbI/AAAAAAAAD-I/gmchvAFjPGI/s1600/026.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732429933586449842" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--0JsedYGHWw/T42upyM8hbI/AAAAAAAAD-I/gmchvAFjPGI/s400/026.JPG" /></a>Then we watered our potato. </div><div>We'll check on our potato at the </div><div>next class and eventually harvest </div><div>it in the fall. How cool is that?<br /></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qQIB7AdafxY/T42upIJjTrI/AAAAAAAAD98/enuQzIp5_bA/s1600/027.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732429922297925298" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qQIB7AdafxY/T42upIJjTrI/AAAAAAAAD98/enuQzIp5_bA/s400/027.JPG" /></a>Next on the agenda was filling our basket with </div><div>greens from the greenhouse. </div><div>Notice the empty basket :(</div><div>Brendan was so hungry he ate everything</div><div>before it could end up in the basket.</div><div>Arugula.</div><div>*chomp*</div><div>Spinach</div><div>*chomp*</div><div>Romaine Lettuce</div><div>*chomp*</div><div><br /> </div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-52VFiVvuyVc/T42uom1sH4I/AAAAAAAAD9w/2HbapmsaHV0/s1600/028.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732429913356246914" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-52VFiVvuyVc/T42uom1sH4I/AAAAAAAAD9w/2HbapmsaHV0/s400/028.JPG" /></a>Luckily other kids shared their greens </div><div>and we all made a salad.<br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SQu-1rOX4Fg/T42uny8CyeI/AAAAAAAAD9k/Yqy5tvLz7vs/s1600/029.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732429899424254434" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SQu-1rOX4Fg/T42uny8CyeI/AAAAAAAAD9k/Yqy5tvLz7vs/s400/029.JPG" /></a>We ate lunch together and Brendan </div><div>read a book on herb gardening.<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FnX7nb-QUGQ/T42umhb3DOI/AAAAAAAAD9Y/Li4w2wrIoUo/s1600/030.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732429877545995490" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FnX7nb-QUGQ/T42umhb3DOI/AAAAAAAAD9Y/Li4w2wrIoUo/s400/030.JPG" /></a>And then Brendan fell asleep in the car on the way home.</div><div> </div><div>We loved farm school!!!!!</div><div>During the next class we will learn how to milk a goat!</div><div> </div><div>I am seriously in love with farm school.</div><div>(I think Brendan may have enjoyed it too :)</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-56272513346125365772012-02-07T20:38:00.005-05:002012-02-07T21:33:23.269-05:00Now I Believe Her<div align="center"><br /><br /><div align="center">I've been a terrible blogger lately.<br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">In my defense, I've been a little busy lately.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Megan got sick in November and hasn't gotten better since.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">It started out with what I thought was a mild cold.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Runny nose, slight cough, that's it.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Except, every night she complained her throat hurt.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Only at bedtime.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Every night.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">And I didn't believe her.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">A kid with a sore throat doesn't chow down bagels, pizza, carrots, etc.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Right?</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Then all of a sudden bedtime came and her throat hurt.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I thought it was a bedtime stall tactic.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">After a couple weeks of the mild cold just not going away,</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I took her to the doctor, mostly to prove her throat DIDN'T HURT</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">justgotobedforcryingoutloud!!!!!!</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I've been a mom for five years now.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I think I've done a pretty good job so far.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I wasn't prepared for what the doctor said next -</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">SEVERE TONSILLITIS.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">One of the worst cases he's ever seen.</div><br /><div align="center">(And he's been a doctor for a hundred million years. Approximately.)</div><br /><div align="center">What?????</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I told him I just couldn't believe it because she didn't act very sick.</div><br /><div align="center">She never even had a fever! </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">We left with a prescription for antibiotics for her</div><br /><div align="center">and a serious case of mommy guilt for me.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Then guess what?</div><br /><div align="center">Instead of getting better she just got worse.</div><br /><div align="center">After two courses of antibiotics, she STILL had tonsillitis.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">We were off to see the Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist.</div><br /><div align="center">He scheduled the tonsillectomy for January 4.</div><br /><div align="center">Then, a couple days after Christmas Megan spiked a super high fever, </div><br /><div align="center">wouldn't eat or drink anything, </div><br /><div align="center">and got so lethargic I almost couldn't wake her up.</div><br /><div align="center">In a panic, I rushed her to the emergency room.</div><br /><div align="center">She ended up getting admitted to the </div><br /><div align="center">infectious disease unit at Nationwide Children's Hospital.</div><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706579345980345650" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YRSHQj5tRd4/TzHXri-9TTI/AAAAAAAAD80/rn3a25r5ULw/s400/meganhosp1.JPG" />She needed an IV for severe dehydration.</div><br /><div align="center">They gave her morphine to control her pain.</div><br /><div align="center">They also gave her some steriods </div><br /><div align="center">to control the swelling in her tonsils.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center">While she was there, </div><br /><div align="center">everyone who came in the room had to wear a mask and gown.</div><br /><div align="center">Kinda scary for a little kid.</div><br /><div align="center">They really weren't sure why she was so sick and dehydrated.</div><br /><div align="center">They did all kinds of tests. </div></div><br /><p align="center">They took her for a CT scan.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706579354855504626" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FtHQXxtELls/TzHXsEC9evI/AAAAAAAAD9M/ek7ehLkxP0o/s400/hospital3.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706579352267342578" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dG0fAtnn2Lw/TzHXr6Z5QvI/AAAAAAAAD9A/_OazQdX4KD8/s400/hospital2.JPG" /></p><br /><p align="center">They thought she might have a hidden abscess behind her tonsil.</p><br /><p align="center">Instead they found that she had a sinus infection, an ear infection in both ears,<br />AND severe tonsillitis (we already knew that.) </p><br /><p align="center">Then they swabbed up her nose and down her throat.</p><br /><p align="center">She kinda hated that.</p><br /><p align="center">Those tests showed she had mycoplasma pneumonia and adenovirus.</p><br /><p align="center">That's kinda a lot to have wrong with you at once.</p><br /><p align="center">The infected tonsils were essentially creating a germ factory.</p><br /><p align="center">Her tonsillectomy for January 4 got cancelled because they were worried she would end up on a ventilator if they operated.</p><br /><p align="center">Yikes!</p><br /><p align="center">She was sent home with a months worth of antibiotics.</p><br /><p align="center">One of them tasted so badly she threw up.</p><br /><p align="center">In my mouth. (I had it open, cheering for her.)</p><br /><p align="center">It got all over my face too.</p><br /><p align="center">First time in five years she's ever thrown up.</p><br /><p align="center">I now consider us even - I didn't believe her throat hurt, she threw up in my mouth.</p><br /><p align="center">Fair and square.</p><br /><p align="center">We got rescheduled for another tonsillectomy on February 8 . . . tomorrow.</p><br /><p align="center">She still complains of her throat hurting every day.</p><br /><p align="center">Only now I believe her.</p><br /><p align="center"></p>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-27142881212492664822011-12-11T20:44:00.006-05:002011-12-11T21:22:57.542-05:00A Tale of Two Turkeys<div align="center">This year we spent Thanksgiving at the cabin in NY.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vrYjlIkiqkk/TuVffZlrjkI/AAAAAAAAD8o/PIln-JXnrKE/s1600/097.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685055097674632770" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vrYjlIkiqkk/TuVffZlrjkI/AAAAAAAAD8o/PIln-JXnrKE/s400/097.JPG" /></a> It took a serious amount of turkey to feed this clan . . . </div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FpytYTuxf3s/TuVfCCMLisI/AAAAAAAAD8c/8jsCzupz-EE/s1600/102.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685054593177455298" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FpytYTuxf3s/TuVfCCMLisI/AAAAAAAAD8c/8jsCzupz-EE/s400/102.JPG" /></a>It was really special to celebrate with the "old timers" - my great uncle Frank and my<br />grandfather. I would include my nana here too but I am certain she wouldn't appreciate being called an "old timer." I almost choked on my turkey during a certain conversation with my great uncle Frank. It kinda went like this . . .<br />Me: I didn't know you were sick.<br />Him: Yeah, I have cancer <em>a foot up my dupa</em>!<br />I hope you don't need me to translate what he meant by "dupa." Ahh, I guess you can say things when you are in your 90s that you just can't get away with saying any other time. I still laugh when I think of the awkward silence after he said that . . . . kinda like, did he just say what I think he said????<br /><br />I love my family!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cy9T_Ncl3tw/TuVfBhOM4ZI/AAAAAAAAD8Q/K7UrZw1-EGs/s1600/104.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685054584327561618" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cy9T_Ncl3tw/TuVfBhOM4ZI/AAAAAAAAD8Q/K7UrZw1-EGs/s400/104.JPG" /></a>That news didn't seem to disturb anyone's appetites, however.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_v3gzu1jZA/TuVfBWDsPnI/AAAAAAAAD8A/4TvK8zwwX-A/s1600/106.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685054581330689650" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_v3gzu1jZA/TuVfBWDsPnI/AAAAAAAAD8A/4TvK8zwwX-A/s400/106.JPG" /></a>This was John's dessert plate.</div><br /><br /><div>My mom makes seriously good pie . . . </div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pUOhrTPXLaE/TuVfA5ZnFCI/AAAAAAAAD74/Wz5G4FrJY1Y/s1600/019.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685054573637997602" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pUOhrTPXLaE/TuVfA5ZnFCI/AAAAAAAAD74/Wz5G4FrJY1Y/s400/019.JPG" /></a>although I'm not sure good pie excuses the ridiculousness of this.<br /></div><br /><div><br />We spent the next couple couple days playing some cut throat games of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Carcassonne</span><br />and enjoying each other's company.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKQpKDyH2VQ/TuVfAjO1zdI/AAAAAAAAD7s/bMGgqAcFm5Q/s1600/084.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685054567687245266" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKQpKDyH2VQ/TuVfAjO1zdI/AAAAAAAAD7s/bMGgqAcFm5Q/s400/084.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GyZdbPOyZpE/TuVdsOg2nrI/AAAAAAAAD7g/o5eDu9jU2D8/s1600/091.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685053119016640178" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GyZdbPOyZpE/TuVdsOg2nrI/AAAAAAAAD7g/o5eDu9jU2D8/s400/091.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VPUUR6Ho_j0/TuVdrxyqXQI/AAAAAAAAD7U/zQRR56etLnE/s1600/100.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685053111306706178" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VPUUR6Ho_j0/TuVdrxyqXQI/AAAAAAAAD7U/zQRR56etLnE/s400/100.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cmK8SA5TqbE/TuVdrt1Ke9I/AAAAAAAAD7I/A4DpriIcWoQ/s1600/109.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685053110243458002" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cmK8SA5TqbE/TuVdrt1Ke9I/AAAAAAAAD7I/A4DpriIcWoQ/s400/109.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6J8QU-f1WO0/TuVdrNd1zDI/AAAAAAAAD68/a1t92IqczqQ/s1600/023.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685053101555698738" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6J8QU-f1WO0/TuVdrNd1zDI/AAAAAAAAD68/a1t92IqczqQ/s400/023.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VQSJpmWlXqw/TuVdq8vuYzI/AAAAAAAAD6w/07T_qkK8ao0/s1600/024.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685053097067307826" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VQSJpmWlXqw/TuVdq8vuYzI/AAAAAAAAD6w/07T_qkK8ao0/s400/024.JPG" /></a><br />We were also on pins and needles, hoping one of the kids wouldn't give away the real reason we all went up to the cabin . . . </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>to celebrate my grandfather's 85<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> birthday with a surprise party in Buffalo with all his nearest and dearest. Tune in soon for that tale.<br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-33243365580593545992011-12-11T20:25:00.004-05:002011-12-11T20:36:16.749-05:00I'll Want To Remember This Someday<div align="center">Once the thrill of the election was over, my next step was being sworn in. My kids came to city hall and acted like they owned the place.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685047534523811634" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bwfd9PIg6bo/TuVYnKqAhzI/AAAAAAAAD6k/APWy9Sd2Quk/s400/076.JPG" /></div><br /><div align="center">Brendan wasted no time at all climbing into the mayor's chair.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685047523773731474" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SobV8Dwhm34/TuVYmim_UpI/AAAAAAAAD6Y/hc4seHEmDzI/s400/074.JPG" /> <br /><p align="center">Megan settled for my chair!</p><br /><p align="center">Not shown:</p><br /><p align="center">Brendan throwing a tantrum <span style="font-size:180%;">THIS BIG </span><span style="font-size:100%;">while I took my oath of office. Seriously, people are still talking about it. Imagine John wrestling with a screaming Brendan, me so stressed I raised my left hand instead of my right, and Megan stepping in to hold the Bible because John's hands were FULL. Good times! That is what they get for scheduling my oath of office at bedtime. </span></p><br /><p align="center">Cutest moment of the night: Megan asking me if they were going to have crafts for the kids.</p><br /><p align="center"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hmmm</span>, maybe something we should consider in the future! </p><br /><p align="center"></p>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-39013252422854780252011-11-09T19:54:00.002-05:002011-11-09T19:57:39.743-05:00And the winner is . . .<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6Z7GlPTLRhw/Trsg2nxMAwI/AAAAAAAAD6M/HiD0fV0vGUQ/s1600/results.png"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 221px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673164278363587330" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6Z7GlPTLRhw/Trsg2nxMAwI/AAAAAAAAD6M/HiD0fV0vGUQ/s400/results.png" /></a>If I were the type to gloat, I would say that was the largest margin of victory in the entire county. Good thing I'm not.<br /><br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-25563401279493886942011-11-08T17:48:00.000-05:002011-11-08T17:49:31.771-05:00To be continued . . .<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ns1-55-AQ40/Trmx5MJMulI/AAAAAAAAD6A/T-ngDAbHR4g/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672760801720318546" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ns1-55-AQ40/Trmx5MJMulI/AAAAAAAAD6A/T-ngDAbHR4g/s400/003.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-45530828137200403902011-11-06T20:00:00.004-05:002011-11-06T20:28:35.287-05:00Trick - or - Treat 2011<div align="center">Our Halloween began as usual . . . </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4ycigp2Dssk/TrcxQ9CIrgI/AAAAAAAAD50/0Su-wld9JFw/s1600/007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672056423027617282" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4ycigp2Dssk/TrcxQ9CIrgI/AAAAAAAAD50/0Su-wld9JFw/s400/007.JPG" /></a> posing for portraits on the front porch. <br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-de07JB-KoV0/TrcxQQg95MI/AAAAAAAAD5o/NFl_Kp7GbRU/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672056411077338306" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-de07JB-KoV0/TrcxQQg95MI/AAAAAAAAD5o/NFl_Kp7GbRU/s400/002.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OucldYA_q80/TrcxQGLqLYI/AAAAAAAAD5c/lIZjlu6bRjc/s1600/012.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672056408303611266" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OucldYA_q80/TrcxQGLqLYI/AAAAAAAAD5c/lIZjlu6bRjc/s400/012.JPG" /></a> Only one little monster didn't quite get the concept of trick-or-treat. Brendan was like, "Jackpot. Found the candy! I think I'm gonna fill up my treat bucket right here on the front porch while mom is distracted taking photos of Megan."<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pDQQGBva4fQ/TrcwoW-xLEI/AAAAAAAAD5U/RIwDoek0pDo/s1600/009.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672055725618179138" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pDQQGBva4fQ/TrcwoW-xLEI/AAAAAAAAD5U/RIwDoek0pDo/s400/009.JPG" /></a>Sorry about the poor picture quality. No need to adjust your monitor. My flash was turned off. I apologize in advance for the headache these pictures may cause.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-phcXTlbE6VQ/TrcwoCQ-jLI/AAAAAAAAD5A/NZIYbcOvZs4/s1600/010.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672055720057408690" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-phcXTlbE6VQ/TrcwoCQ-jLI/AAAAAAAAD5A/NZIYbcOvZs4/s400/010.JPG" /></a><br />John's pumpkin masterpiece.<br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cRqMzlMUTGs/TrcwnBEyqGI/AAAAAAAAD4s/vAjW1OezagU/s1600/015.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672055702557993058" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cRqMzlMUTGs/TrcwnBEyqGI/AAAAAAAAD4s/vAjW1OezagU/s400/015.JPG" /></a>Megan, less than enthusiastic about posing for another picture before she even had one piece of candy. <em><br /><br /></em><br /><div><em></em><em></em><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-izFmGE054us/Trcwm4BAY4I/AAAAAAAAD4g/jTQBHq0ySrs/s1600/017.JPG"><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672055700126196610" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-izFmGE054us/Trcwm4BAY4I/AAAAAAAAD4g/jTQBHq0ySrs/s400/017.JPG" /></em></a><em><br /></em><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1kAfDD-WfrM/TrcvesBGQ0I/AAAAAAAAD4U/LD6j3ElFJbE/s1600/019.JPG"><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672054459954774850" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1kAfDD-WfrM/TrcvesBGQ0I/AAAAAAAAD4U/LD6j3ElFJbE/s400/019.JPG" /></em></a><em><br /></em><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2QDCGCSrH4/TrcveTmyePI/AAAAAAAAD4E/83tctBmiz84/s1600/020.JPG"><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672054453401975026" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2QDCGCSrH4/TrcveTmyePI/AAAAAAAAD4E/83tctBmiz84/s400/020.JPG" /></em></a><em><br /></em><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uvjhC3STD4M/Trcvd72VyQI/AAAAAAAAD38/DaBYJDtvBhI/s1600/022.JPG"><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672054447024752898" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uvjhC3STD4M/Trcvd72VyQI/AAAAAAAAD38/DaBYJDtvBhI/s400/022.JPG" /></em></a><em><br /></em>Our traditional photo with our neighbor friends.<br /></div><br /><div>And now I need your help with something . . . </div><br /><div>I just can't decide which Frankenstein is more scary.<br /></div><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lmB5x_RLIIA/TrcvdbPpcQI/AAAAAAAAD3w/rru1pmqDXEw/s1600/034.JPG"><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672054438272528642" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lmB5x_RLIIA/TrcvdbPpcQI/AAAAAAAAD3w/rru1pmqDXEw/s400/034.JPG" /></em></a><em> </em>This one.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YfPosdDqNlc/TrcvdSi6f9I/AAAAAAAAD3k/zbMkO8JGhKg/s1600/033.JPG"><em><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672054435937419218" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YfPosdDqNlc/TrcvdSi6f9I/AAAAAAAAD3k/zbMkO8JGhKg/s400/033.JPG" /></em></a><em>Or this one?</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>You decide.</em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Happy Halloween 2011.</em></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-64959912322957407962011-10-29T20:53:00.008-04:002011-10-29T21:48:16.000-04:00Keller Halloween Spooktacular 2011<div align="center">The Keller Halloween Spooktacular has become somewhat of a tradition in these parts.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">This year, we began the festivities with the creation of the famous <span style="font-size:130%;color:#33cc00;">Frankensnack.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center">For a step-by-step tutorial on how to make the famous dessert we enjoy every year, click <a href="http://www.divshare.com/direct/16053398-7e9.pdf">here</a> (only we use a sharpie marker to draw the face instead of painting it with chocolate. Much easier.)<br /></div><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669086804363295538" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JjIBBvtxVqM/TqykaZbtuzI/AAAAAAAAD3M/L4GlyKpefa4/s400/001.JPG" /> Drawing the faces on the Frankensnacks.<br /><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669086794229364082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RxXYhVXTTNw/TqykZzrmNXI/AAAAAAAAD3A/7P0VYyeShrA/s400/003.JPG" />Mixing up the pudding<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669090225708481874" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O1y5aEFmDrI/Tqynhi7-PVI/AAAAAAAAD3Y/MmltSP1wNqA/s400/012.JPG" /></div>Adorable!<br /><br /><br /><div>Then we made some creepy crawly bug juice.</div><br /><div>The bug juice was a disgusting new addition to the Spooktacular this year. </div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DZatseU-skE/TqyjgZsNkpI/AAAAAAAAD2o/cGKWs5Y-gxY/s1600/005.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669085808000078482" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DZatseU-skE/TqyjgZsNkpI/AAAAAAAAD2o/cGKWs5Y-gxY/s400/005.JPG" /></a>Made from fruit punch, ginger ale, sherbert, gummy slugs and worms, </div><br /><br /><br /><div>this tasty treat was a big hit. Thank goodness this was part of the menu since the bugs were the only part of the meal Brendan actually consumed.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C0u8-p64lNw/TqyjgI0hVyI/AAAAAAAAD2c/ZA3KbDvejQ0/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669085803471525666" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C0u8-p64lNw/TqyjgI0hVyI/AAAAAAAAD2c/ZA3KbDvejQ0/s400/006.JPG" /></a>And we cannot forget the mummy dogs!</div><br /><br /><div>Yum.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-11Z75fGG6F8/TqyjfyyII8I/AAAAAAAAD2Q/_HOp_2cMIeM/s1600/007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669085797555905474" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-11Z75fGG6F8/TqyjfyyII8I/AAAAAAAAD2Q/_HOp_2cMIeM/s400/007.JPG" /></a> Brendan wasted no time shoving all the worms into his mouth at once.</div><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RroEz75fGt8/TqyjfDXWWQI/AAAAAAAAD2E/O-R4GhXUijc/s1600/009.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669085784827123970" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RroEz75fGt8/TqyjfDXWWQI/AAAAAAAAD2E/O-R4GhXUijc/s400/009.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B_VpXjD5haI/Tqyje5RgmOI/AAAAAAAAD14/lgS7qOPVz8Q/s1600/013.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669085782118275298" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B_VpXjD5haI/Tqyje5RgmOI/AAAAAAAAD14/lgS7qOPVz8Q/s400/013.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k6KcAoUGKwM/TqyiYGmb1mI/AAAAAAAAD1s/VP-py5VWQdQ/s1600/014.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669084565924992610" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k6KcAoUGKwM/TqyiYGmb1mI/AAAAAAAAD1s/VP-py5VWQdQ/s400/014.JPG" /></a> Then it was on to the annual pumpkin carving contest, although I'm not really sure why we even call it a contest. Megan wins every year.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dM7b7YPQt_g/TqyiX8UD9BI/AAAAAAAAD1g/GN2Y72LS7yg/s1600/017.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669084563163575314" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dM7b7YPQt_g/TqyiX8UD9BI/AAAAAAAAD1g/GN2Y72LS7yg/s400/017.JPG" /></a> Seriously, who ever heard of a 5 year old carving a pumpkin?<br /></div><br /><br /><div>Don't believe me?<br /></div><br /><div>Check out the skills . . . </div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_-y9lRE1niE/TqyiXAJfaGI/AAAAAAAAD1U/8yO1RrSVV70/s1600/018.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669084547013109858" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_-y9lRE1niE/TqyiXAJfaGI/AAAAAAAAD1U/8yO1RrSVV70/s400/018.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2_NjSGh3W-Q/TqyiW6lP3gI/AAAAAAAAD1I/DGU37qGGj9o/s1600/020.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669084545518919170" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2_NjSGh3W-Q/TqyiW6lP3gI/AAAAAAAAD1I/DGU37qGGj9o/s400/020.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RRMlD9F95_s/TqyiWnj1ABI/AAAAAAAAD08/rujS-f9Nc5g/s1600/021.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669084540412690450" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RRMlD9F95_s/TqyiWnj1ABI/AAAAAAAAD08/rujS-f9Nc5g/s400/021.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kzIarzdcGoU/TqyhIdmflEI/AAAAAAAAD0w/MpQ2B4jPhjg/s1600/026.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669083197709718594" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kzIarzdcGoU/TqyhIdmflEI/AAAAAAAAD0w/MpQ2B4jPhjg/s400/026.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Np0Pjuvbk6o/TqyhHVHt9fI/AAAAAAAAD0k/XtAiwjIX_V4/s1600/028.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669083178253284850" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Np0Pjuvbk6o/TqyhHVHt9fI/AAAAAAAAD0k/XtAiwjIX_V4/s400/028.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vjyexvobUPg/TqyhGiIkE5I/AAAAAAAAD0M/ktHG0yHR0cQ/s1600/030.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669083164566623122" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vjyexvobUPg/TqyhGiIkE5I/AAAAAAAAD0M/ktHG0yHR0cQ/s400/030.JPG" /></a> Brendan was pretty impressed, too!</div><br /><div>Check out his surgical bracelet from the other day.</div><br /><div>He won't let me cut it off.<br /></div><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yCi9Tck86pY/TqyhGtxXz-I/AAAAAAAAD0A/nTOUOyabvyo/s1600/034.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669083167690575842" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yCi9Tck86pY/TqyhGtxXz-I/AAAAAAAAD0A/nTOUOyabvyo/s400/034.JPG" /></a> Guess who did this pumpkin?</div><br /><div>Yep, me.</div><br /><div>The election is less than two weeks away.</div><br /><div>I thought it was pretty clever.</div><br /><div>John made fun of it.</div><br /><div>Imagine John's trying-to-sound-like-an-idiot voice . . . </div><br /><div>"Yep, I wasn't sure who I was going to vote for until I saw that pumpkin and now the decision is so clear!" John, you are such a wiseacre.</div><br /><br /><div>John also had an amazing pumpkin creation this year (not as amazing as the "Vote Keller" pumpkin) but I have no photo of it yet. He was still working on it when I retired my camera for the evening. Don't worry too much. It will be included in the Halloween photos I'm sure.</div><br /><br /><div>And that, folks, was how we celebrated the Keller Halloween Spooktacular 2011.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-44317093739761741352011-10-26T20:30:00.003-04:002011-10-26T20:56:56.425-04:00Brendan's Surgery<div align="center">After the 6th ear infection of 2011 (and all the crankiness and lack of sleep that goes with them) we took the doctor's advice and scheduled Brendan for surgery to have tubes inserted. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center">His surgery was scheduled for early this morning and John's parents traveled from Dayton to help us get Megan off to school and provide moral support.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center">Last night, John's mom was so worried we would oversleep she prayed God would wake us up on time. No joke - there was a huge thunderstorm 5 minutes before our alarms were set to go off and we all woke up. Whoa! She has some serious pull with the man upstairs. I asked her to pray we win the lottery. I'll let you know how that turns out.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center">Anyway, here are some pics of Brendan before his surgery. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pyv65LHhPQc/TqimyTX5wxI/AAAAAAAADz0/gaPx3N_He_I/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667963514169967378" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pyv65LHhPQc/TqimyTX5wxI/AAAAAAAADz0/gaPx3N_He_I/s400/001.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HiE7HXBWJcY/TqimyIto3SI/AAAAAAAADzo/wJP984RoTa0/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667963511308344610" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HiE7HXBWJcY/TqimyIto3SI/AAAAAAAADzo/wJP984RoTa0/s400/002.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LKDNn8Oal_c/TqimxkHTrlI/AAAAAAAADzc/78zm1uESdss/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667963501483896402" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LKDNn8Oal_c/TqimxkHTrlI/AAAAAAAADzc/78zm1uESdss/s400/004.JPG" /></a>The surgery only took about 8 minutes. Based on the price of the surgery, the doctor earns $98438595905792549.96 a minute. I'm enrolling John in medical school tomorrow.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Favorite moments of the day:</span><br /><br /><br /><br />1. Hearing Brendan sing "Twiiiiiiiiiiiinkle Twiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinkle Liiiittle Staaaaaaar" after they gave him the "relaxation" meds before surgery. It was kinda like drunken two year old karaoke.<br /><br /><br /><br />2. Bringing Brendan home and watching him stumble all over the living room. He was like a weeble-wobble except this weeble-wobble actually fell down. He would say, "Oops! I sorry. I'm o-tay" and get right back up again.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3FAPzgczTNs/Tqimxda8D4I/AAAAAAAADzQ/p1Et4EY2aRQ/s1600/007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667963499687186306" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3FAPzgczTNs/Tqimxda8D4I/AAAAAAAADzQ/p1Et4EY2aRQ/s400/007.JPG" /></a>3. Going to the Trunk-or-Treat event at Megan's school. He was the only Frankenstein there that actually had surgery that morning. That degree of authenticity<em> should</em> have won him the costume contest, don't you think?<br /><br /><br /><br />We'll do anything for a little free candy around here.<br /><br /><br /><br />Seriously though, he is doing just fine - acting like his normal self.<br /><br />The doctor said he had no restrictions, so don't go thinking I'm a bad mom because I dragged my freshly-operated-on-two-year-old to trunk or treat just to get his bag of candy.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cause I didn't.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-54852039536777202852011-10-23T19:46:00.009-04:002011-10-23T22:06:59.464-04:00Leeds Farm 2011<div align="center">With my re-election campaign in full swing, I have to admit I've been out of the house more than I would like. I've been gone quite a bit lately and John has had to take over just about everything so I can go out and shake hands, talk economic development and fiber optic networks, etc. I really do enjoy getting out and talking to people but I started missing <em>my</em> two little people. So today, I temporarily suspended the Re-elect Lisa Train for a little fall fun at </div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Leed's</span> Farm!</span></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#000000;">In case you're not familiar with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Leed's</span> Farm, it is a friendly little farm not too far from our house. We go every year, drop a large wad of cash, and spend the day </s>trying to get both kids to look in the same direction for a picture. It is great fun!</S /></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KSZ5J-NGW3Q/TqSs_TzwfYI/AAAAAAAADzE/AaDPqA4oImI/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666844434788023682" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KSZ5J-NGW3Q/TqSs_TzwfYI/AAAAAAAADzE/AaDPqA4oImI/s400/001.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KzOGrBj5JZI/TqSs_NZQy1I/AAAAAAAADy4/f2Lk0cMB45Y/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666844433066281810" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KzOGrBj5JZI/TqSs_NZQy1I/AAAAAAAADy4/f2Lk0cMB45Y/s400/002.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GfHaNDABRSc/TqSsaUIsDgI/AAAAAAAADys/w9Zb6FxGUe0/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666843799220653570" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GfHaNDABRSc/TqSsaUIsDgI/AAAAAAAADys/w9Zb6FxGUe0/s400/003.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FnVMBEHErbQ/TqSsaPGMQDI/AAAAAAAADyg/LmNfWHJFhNc/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666843797868003378" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FnVMBEHErbQ/TqSsaPGMQDI/AAAAAAAADyg/LmNfWHJFhNc/s400/004.JPG" /></a> See what I mean about the picture thing?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d-qUPeSK_zM/TqSsZ21c9QI/AAAAAAAADyU/CldgmHOP4Wc/s1600/007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666843791355344130" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d-qUPeSK_zM/TqSsZ21c9QI/AAAAAAAADyU/CldgmHOP4Wc/s400/007.JPG" /></a> We take this traditional picture every year and marvel at how much the kids have grown since last year.<br /><br /><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qm9pu1DA8Vg/TqSrc0NVMII/AAAAAAAADxs/orbONxXNQG8/s1600/014.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666842742678171778" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qm9pu1DA8Vg/TqSrc0NVMII/AAAAAAAADxs/orbONxXNQG8/s400/014.JPG" /></a> Making a snow angel in the corn . . . or would that be a corn angel? You decide.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-niTYNRLQmp4/TqSrc-qhpsI/AAAAAAAADxk/hfMRj7jS1dY/s1600/016.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666842745484977858" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-niTYNRLQmp4/TqSrc-qhpsI/AAAAAAAADxk/hfMRj7jS1dY/s400/016.JPG" /></a>One out of two people looking in the correct direction = photo success.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8cOy8rjGDl0/TqSrbygdSaI/AAAAAAAADxY/ttpPKLl6-2k/s1600/020.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666842725041654178" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8cOy8rjGDl0/TqSrbygdSaI/AAAAAAAADxY/ttpPKLl6-2k/s400/020.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GLuu5qGdt3g/TqSrbuIhSWI/AAAAAAAADxI/Tie6NZSiF6Q/s1600/032.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666842723867511138" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GLuu5qGdt3g/TqSrbuIhSWI/AAAAAAAADxI/Tie6NZSiF6Q/s400/032.JPG" /></a> And, of course, we cannot forget the Banana Bus. There was one precarious year when I got <em>in</em> the Banana Bus and wasn't very sure I was going to be able to pry myself <em>out</em>. I'm so glad they added <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">seatbelts</span> this year so Brendan could ride on his own. </div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UaFmHdofanE/TqSrbiQ6GOI/AAAAAAAADxA/nmSkz2QHPgQ/s1600/034.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666842720681466082" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UaFmHdofanE/TqSrbiQ6GOI/AAAAAAAADxA/nmSkz2QHPgQ/s400/034.JPG" /></a> Imagine my surprise when I was walking to unbuckle him after the ride was over and he unbuckled himself and got out on his own. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Seatbelts</span> = false sense of security. </div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kySm90Ankdw/TqSp-Eb4qCI/AAAAAAAADw4/IgA-OSiUdG4/s1600/036.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666841114946611234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kySm90Ankdw/TqSp-Eb4qCI/AAAAAAAADw4/IgA-OSiUdG4/s400/036.JPG" /></a>Then it was time to feed the goats.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lBB9TnNYiXs/TqSp94MmMxI/AAAAAAAADwk/cSAdeEsCRQA/s1600/037.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666841111661261586" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lBB9TnNYiXs/TqSp94MmMxI/AAAAAAAADwk/cSAdeEsCRQA/s400/037.JPG" /></a> Despite how these pictures make it look, the fun of feeding the goats lasted approximately 0.00009 seconds.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vpSluInLISc/TqSp9jCi7GI/AAAAAAAADwc/D0n5dSJ7f-E/s1600/039.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666841105981959266" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vpSluInLISc/TqSp9jCi7GI/AAAAAAAADwc/D0n5dSJ7f-E/s400/039.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tjx0cLFMp0A/TqSp9BIiwqI/AAAAAAAADwQ/zQFh27QCRzg/s1600/044.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666841096880308898" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tjx0cLFMp0A/TqSp9BIiwqI/AAAAAAAADwQ/zQFh27QCRzg/s400/044.JPG" /></a> Then it was on to some more fun,<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uCc1mEWueAM/TqSoWaR8aeI/AAAAAAAADv4/I8rQiLPqf0E/s1600/049.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666839334104099298" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uCc1mEWueAM/TqSoWaR8aeI/AAAAAAAADv4/I8rQiLPqf0E/s400/049.JPG" /></a>and some more unsuccessful attempts to get both kids to look in the same direction at the same time.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666839314588597634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ULtxkh70Ews/TqSoVRlFfYI/AAAAAAAADvU/2iW_n9kgtcc/s400/050.JPG" /><br /><br /><br />Then it was on to the zip line!<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666839331237900322" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SQX9fM9Hy_0/TqSoWPmlsCI/AAAAAAAADvo/TZHu6V6lKWk/s400/056.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GOOfq1G3pXg/TqSoV2_YHkI/AAAAAAAADvg/S3UjuNCYToo/s1600/055.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666839324630982210" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GOOfq1G3pXg/TqSoV2_YHkI/AAAAAAAADvg/S3UjuNCYToo/s400/055.JPG" /></a>And yes, my friends, that is my 2 year old baby <em>zip lining</em>. </div><br /><br /><div>Let me say that again.</div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;">My two year old baby can zip line! </span></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c6tIu_nyhrQ/TqSoVCJOOfI/AAAAAAAADvI/yTaw8rhqvEo/s1600/053.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666839310445197810" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c6tIu_nyhrQ/TqSoVCJOOfI/AAAAAAAADvI/yTaw8rhqvEo/s400/053.JPG" /></a>I learned several things today.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>1. There is not a thing in this world</div><br /><br /><div>that means more to me than my little peeps.<br /></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>2. Pictures are a lot more successful when </div><br /><br /><div>taken one child at a time.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>3. It is tough to find a place more fun </div><br /><br /><div>than <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Leed's</span> Farm in the fall. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-79981575826693627202011-09-02T19:21:00.004-04:002011-09-02T19:55:24.892-04:00First Week of Kindergarten<div align="center">Megan started kindergarten last week!</div>
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<br /><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5CDYq-Nph6M/TmFoNtRkvuI/AAAAAAAADu4/5WMsBSJP8Pk/s1600/043.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647909992400207586" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5CDYq-Nph6M/TmFoNtRkvuI/AAAAAAAADu4/5WMsBSJP8Pk/s400/043.JPG" /></a> We're hoping that a good, Catholic education will keep her on the straight and narrow (a little straighter and narrower than my good, Catholic education kept me :)</div>
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<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9T-FEWu68Hg/TmFoNPgNBJI/AAAAAAAADuw/As9A0YjiIJ4/s1600/047.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647909984408503442" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9T-FEWu68Hg/TmFoNPgNBJI/AAAAAAAADuw/As9A0YjiIJ4/s400/047.JPG" /></a> She is going to the same school as her buddy, Colin but they are in two different kindergarten classrooms.
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<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a5UfjNVhQcU/TmFoMxAU-nI/AAAAAAAADuo/gu69QTmiefE/s1600/050.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647909976221743730" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a5UfjNVhQcU/TmFoMxAU-nI/AAAAAAAADuo/gu69QTmiefE/s400/050.JPG" /></a> Megan was super nervous her first day and almost didn't want to go. Once we got there, she sat right down and started coloring and didn't look back. I left with tears in my eyes and a big lump in my throat.
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v9g6oKiMmbU/TmFoMWDoiUI/AAAAAAAADug/xva4qu6sBso/s1600/005.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647909968987851074" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v9g6oKiMmbU/TmFoMWDoiUI/AAAAAAAADug/xva4qu6sBso/s400/005.JPG" /></a> To stay busy, I walked to the duck pond in the neighborhood with Brendan to feed the ducks. Brendan loves to feed the ducks. For a while there, we were feeding the ducks so much I started buying cheap white bread instead of feeding them the good stuff I buy for the kids. They tasted it one day and were like, "What kind of bread is this!!! It is so delicious!" Doesn't it just figure?
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-roEGcveqpRc/TmFoL4-m_HI/AAAAAAAADuY/Pc-GxS3XHRQ/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647909961182149746" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-roEGcveqpRc/TmFoL4-m_HI/AAAAAAAADuY/Pc-GxS3XHRQ/s400/006.JPG" /></a>
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SKiftNOtBBY/TmFmnOnBheI/AAAAAAAADuQ/UEYndkIJSoI/s1600/018.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647908231822018018" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SKiftNOtBBY/TmFmnOnBheI/AAAAAAAADuQ/UEYndkIJSoI/s400/018.JPG" /></a> On the walk home, Brendan stopped at every mailbox to read the numbers. He knows at least some of the numbers. For the ones he doesn't know he points and asks, "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Whaaaas</span> dis? <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Whaaaas</span> dis, Momma?" Every. single. mailbox. Usually, I have to hurry him along because Megan is getting too far ahead. This time I was able to cater to just him and his curiosities. It was kinda nice. Strange, but nice.
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<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VOJ7-Xwu-Cc/TmFmm-EnNuI/AAAAAAAADuI/wbjq6fmwXZk/s1600/032.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647908227382720226" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VOJ7-Xwu-Cc/TmFmm-EnNuI/AAAAAAAADuI/wbjq6fmwXZk/s400/032.JPG" /></a> At the end of the day, we ate cookies and talked. I missed her so much.
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NjOE0ozt0aI/TmFmmTXkqoI/AAAAAAAADuA/UY9KIbVtH58/s1600/025.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647908215919520386" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NjOE0ozt0aI/TmFmmTXkqoI/AAAAAAAADuA/UY9KIbVtH58/s400/025.JPG" /></a>
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8WzSDibJrJw/TmFmmAxxsJI/AAAAAAAADt4/cEoRsLh7CAY/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647908210929152146" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8WzSDibJrJw/TmFmmAxxsJI/AAAAAAAADt4/cEoRsLh7CAY/s400/001.JPG" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o-zreAHIwEM/TmFmlpepnDI/AAAAAAAADtw/nuC9mmhFppI/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647908204674915378" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o-zreAHIwEM/TmFmlpepnDI/AAAAAAAADtw/nuC9mmhFppI/s400/003.JPG" /></a>I can't believe my little girl is already in kindergarten!
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<br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-32736323165442047452011-08-27T19:28:00.007-04:002011-08-27T19:54:14.604-04:00Who Needs Ponies?<div align="center">Not only did we celebrate on Brendan's actual birthday, we had a party that weekend as well. We're all about parties around here.</div>
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<br /><div align="center">When I asked Brendan what kind of cake he wanted for his birthday, he responded</div>
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<br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#33ccff;">Bubble Guppies!</span> </div>
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<br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y_4V0OG2Ck8/TlmALGUB6vI/AAAAAAAADto/dKzW8zIBxCw/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645684536047168242" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y_4V0OG2Ck8/TlmALGUB6vI/AAAAAAAADto/dKzW8zIBxCw/s400/002.JPG" /></a>
<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xd2NmiFvUos/Tll_yA7uddI/AAAAAAAADtg/rR8SzNvIh9k/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645684105106322898" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xd2NmiFvUos/Tll_yA7uddI/AAAAAAAADtg/rR8SzNvIh9k/s400/003.JPG" /></a>
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UZv4FSjlJAY/Tll_xp1nczI/AAAAAAAADtY/tXoMMti-9XY/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645684098906682162" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UZv4FSjlJAY/Tll_xp1nczI/AAAAAAAADtY/tXoMMti-9XY/s400/004.JPG" /></a> For those of you who don't know what a Bubble Guppy is, let me explain. They are darling little mermaid-ish people who live under the sea with their dog, Bubble Puppy. (He's my favorite.) It is the only show Brendan ever wants to watch on TV. He is kinda obsessed with the Bubble Guppies.
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<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UZDg53qqFko/Tll_xKCupmI/AAAAAAAADtQ/II62t0na0Uw/s1600/011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645684090371745378" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UZDg53qqFko/Tll_xKCupmI/AAAAAAAADtQ/II62t0na0Uw/s400/011.JPG" /></a> As you can see, the cake made him pretty happy (which made me happy.) He pointed to all the characters and identified them by name. His favorite is the blonde pictured to the left of the big fish. Her name is Deema and she makes Brendan's heart go pitter patter.
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<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--TXU8MTk4EM/Tll_w45Lj9I/AAAAAAAADtI/TvOcODlTpM8/s1600/012.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645684085768294354" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--TXU8MTk4EM/Tll_w45Lj9I/AAAAAAAADtI/TvOcODlTpM8/s400/012.JPG" /></a>
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<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EVoied8WoU4/Tll_waKh1uI/AAAAAAAADtA/tZ341Di95dU/s1600/025.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645684077519558370" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EVoied8WoU4/Tll_waKh1uI/AAAAAAAADtA/tZ341Di95dU/s400/025.JPG" /></a> Brendan had fun playing with Grandpa.
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<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MsLyieotjqw/Tll-hFyvRfI/AAAAAAAADs4/sP0Uw3EmijI/s1600/027.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645682714841400818" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MsLyieotjqw/Tll-hFyvRfI/AAAAAAAADs4/sP0Uw3EmijI/s400/027.JPG" /></a> When he was opening his gifts, he pretended to eat the cookies off the wrapping paper. It was pretty funny. The boy loves cookies, what can I say.
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<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OoRqm7e_a_M/Tll-g_OtM1I/AAAAAAAADsw/277c0ZNRl7g/s1600/031.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645682713079657298" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OoRqm7e_a_M/Tll-g_OtM1I/AAAAAAAADsw/277c0ZNRl7g/s400/031.JPG" /></a>Brendan and Carter, brothers from another mother.
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqHqDgjPPaY/Tll-gpKPZxI/AAAAAAAADso/TJKRZprKIto/s1600/037.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645682707155347218" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tqHqDgjPPaY/Tll-gpKPZxI/AAAAAAAADso/TJKRZprKIto/s400/037.JPG" /></a> Brendan and Grandma and Grandpa K</div>
<br /><div>(and the new wood floors John put in - check them out!)
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<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UZlwasDWVM4/Tll-gKDfVrI/AAAAAAAADsg/vodf0nqrNtk/s1600/041.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645682698805532338" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UZlwasDWVM4/Tll-gKDfVrI/AAAAAAAADsg/vodf0nqrNtk/s400/041.JPG" /></a> Uncle Russell and Aunt Laura
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<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iZqEqXIecR0/Tll-fkHwT_I/AAAAAAAADsY/wAErJ2gYBHI/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645682688622874610" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iZqEqXIecR0/Tll-fkHwT_I/AAAAAAAADsY/wAErJ2gYBHI/s400/004.JPG" /></a> Megan and her BFF Lauren
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<br /><div>Now, my sister lovingly pointed out that Megan had a pony at her <a href="http://sweetmegankate.blogspot.com/2008/06/pony-party.html">second birthday party</a>. Seriously now, who needs ponies when you can have the BUBBLE GUPPIES?????</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>
<br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-72666903025659074722011-08-18T19:59:00.006-04:002011-08-18T20:54:03.332-04:00This is How We Rock a Birthday<div align="center">Today started like any other . . . half dressed child, begging for bananas.</div>
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<br /><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ca0WfU6OJHw/Tk2rPvAkCoI/AAAAAAAADsQ/uuNYqe7mv6I/s1600/007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642354194970315394" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ca0WfU6OJHw/Tk2rPvAkCoI/AAAAAAAADsQ/uuNYqe7mv6I/s400/007.JPG" /></a>But today was different than any other day because it was Brendan's birthday!</div>
<br /><div align="center">So after breakfast we got (fully) dressed and headed out the door. </div>
<br /><div align="center">First stop: giant playground.</div>
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<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qim6raVNk4s/Tk2rEleFzgI/AAAAAAAADsI/D0I_KDCRmf0/s1600/011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642354003431247362" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qim6raVNk4s/Tk2rEleFzgI/AAAAAAAADsI/D0I_KDCRmf0/s400/011.JPG" /></a>
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<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NSi4IHux6pY/Tk2rEEpTzDI/AAAAAAAADsA/vw1NLDkz-nk/s1600/014.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642353994619931698" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NSi4IHux6pY/Tk2rEEpTzDI/AAAAAAAADsA/vw1NLDkz-nk/s400/014.JPG" /></a> *insert wardrobe change due to wet slides*
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<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8z1nFi2tBoE/Tk2rD2ek8HI/AAAAAAAADr4/AMS62r0QaZ0/s1600/027.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642353990816821362" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8z1nFi2tBoE/Tk2rD2ek8HI/AAAAAAAADr4/AMS62r0QaZ0/s400/027.JPG" /></a>Please take note of the placement (or lack thereof) of Brendan's feet.</div>
<br /><div>He is dangling by his fingertips and using his brute strength to pull himself up.
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<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fJMDFYUjQwg/Tk2rDeajLtI/AAAAAAAADrw/WBoFiiHOgas/s1600/028.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642353984357478098" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fJMDFYUjQwg/Tk2rDeajLtI/AAAAAAAADrw/WBoFiiHOgas/s400/028.JPG" /></a> As he was doing this, a little crowd of moms gathered.</div>
<br /><div>They gasped and asked, "How old is he????"</div>
<br /><div>2!!!</div>
<br /><div>One mom said, "Oh my! He is totally rocking that climbing wall!"</div>
<br /><div>He was, too. Totally rocking it!</div>
<br /><div>We were the cool kids on the playground today.</div>
<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ojdn2auuOIw/Tk2rC8g0RxI/AAAAAAAADro/LN-p1l3hFMs/s1600/039.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642353975256958738" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ojdn2auuOIw/Tk2rC8g0RxI/AAAAAAAADro/LN-p1l3hFMs/s400/039.JPG" /></a>All that climbing worked up quite an appetite.</div>
<br /><div>I decided to break the rules of healthy eating we (sometimes) follow and treat my little man to his favorite cuisine - <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">McDonalds</span> nuggets and fries. Gross to me, complete delicacy to him. </div>
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<br /><div>Then it was home to nap and play until . . . </div>
<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jkHNxHdqUFs/Tk2pthumshI/AAAAAAAADrg/A2CuQmJKU3g/s1600/044.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642352507778150930" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jkHNxHdqUFs/Tk2pthumshI/AAAAAAAADrg/A2CuQmJKU3g/s400/044.JPG" /></a> daddy came home and we all gathered around for our evening tackle/hug.
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EKS0ibgirhk/Tk2prWDQG0I/AAAAAAAADrY/MQ0jHHejVRc/s1600/043.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642352470283787074" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EKS0ibgirhk/Tk2prWDQG0I/AAAAAAAADrY/MQ0jHHejVRc/s400/043.JPG" /></a> And a few more of Brendan's favorites for dinner - pizza and red <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kool</span>-Aid, in a real glass with ice (just like the one he is always trying to steal from mommy.) Call me crazy.
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--1usIEEzWWc/Tk2pq9QqYMI/AAAAAAAADrQ/0amDF4_AIJ8/s1600/046.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642352463629148354" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--1usIEEzWWc/Tk2pq9QqYMI/AAAAAAAADrQ/0amDF4_AIJ8/s400/046.JPG" /></a> No birthday is complete without a birthday cupcake decorated by Megan
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<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8RQ1ooWlN1Q/Tk2pqsUVGMI/AAAAAAAADrI/Z1LfIUh38Yk/s1600/051.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642352459081128130" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8RQ1ooWlN1Q/Tk2pqsUVGMI/AAAAAAAADrI/Z1LfIUh38Yk/s400/051.JPG" /></a>and a good coating of saliva spray for good measure.
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<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SPm29ZT7Bbs/Tk2pqGgIy2I/AAAAAAAADrA/RJydx-UuvuI/s1600/058.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642352448930106210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SPm29ZT7Bbs/Tk2pqGgIy2I/AAAAAAAADrA/RJydx-UuvuI/s400/058.JPG" /></a>This is Brendan trying to see if the whole cupcake would fit into his mouth at once.</div>
<br /><div>(It wouldn't.) </div>
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<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7dUlL4dfwk/Tk2oO5wjRaI/AAAAAAAADq4/l-RkwHY4vPE/s1600/059.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642350882141193634" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7dUlL4dfwk/Tk2oO5wjRaI/AAAAAAAADq4/l-RkwHY4vPE/s400/059.JPG" /></a></div>
<br /><div>Then it was on to some presents sent by a very thoughtful Godmother Sara
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<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CDAFLuOe6AY/Tk2oOZuNUPI/AAAAAAAADqw/ZsUuu0s4PZI/s1600/064.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642350873541431538" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CDAFLuOe6AY/Tk2oOZuNUPI/AAAAAAAADqw/ZsUuu0s4PZI/s400/064.JPG" /></a>
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Ccly32_BsE/Tk2oN-qa8II/AAAAAAAADqo/2gML3bEwFWY/s1600/068.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642350866277789826" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Ccly32_BsE/Tk2oN-qa8II/AAAAAAAADqo/2gML3bEwFWY/s400/068.JPG" /></a> and Aunt Ruth and Uncle Bob </div>
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ABflZAbmjE/Tk2oNShEdRI/AAAAAAAADqg/qX_NmqrdFBs/s1600/070.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642350854427407634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ABflZAbmjE/Tk2oNShEdRI/AAAAAAAADqg/qX_NmqrdFBs/s400/070.JPG" /></a>
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<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Odh4eyRVLGM/Tk2oNBYR3TI/AAAAAAAADqY/rB9uTGpQ6K0/s1600/073.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642350849827134770" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Odh4eyRVLGM/Tk2oNBYR3TI/AAAAAAAADqY/rB9uTGpQ6K0/s400/073.JPG" /></a> and Grandma and Grandpa K too.</div>
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<br /><div>So, like I said before, we really know how to rock a birthday around here.</div>
<br /><div>We're not even done! On Sunday, we'll celebrate with a Bubble Guppies cake and a birthday party.</div>
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<br /><div>And now, I'll close this blog post with a list of Brendan's many talents at age 2:</div>
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<br /><div>Did you know he can sing his <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">ABCs</span>, You are My Sunshine, and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? </div>
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<br /><div>One of his favorite games is climbing up to the top of the stairs/couch/table/etc. Once he's reached the top he yells, "Momma, CATCH!" at which point I have exactly 3 nanoseconds to determine where the sound is coming from, dash to his location, and catch him just before he crashes to the ground. It is so much fun!</div>
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<br /><div>Now, didn't I tell you we know how to rock a birthday?</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>
<br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-37143225756937449842011-07-29T20:23:00.006-04:002011-07-29T21:03:40.829-04:00The Third of July<div align="center">Since it is almost the end of July, I figure it is about time to share with you our Independence Day festivities. Since we love the holiday so much, we celebrated twice. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center">The third of July was spent in Dayton with John's side of the family. John's brothers and sisters are scattered around the country (and even the world with Paul in Bahrain!) so it was nice to gather in one place and see each other again. </div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QxMdi1XZbzk/TjNR1Qzd4KI/AAAAAAAADqE/B4ZmVwYg9xo/s1600/005.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634937534256373922" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QxMdi1XZbzk/TjNR1Qzd4KI/AAAAAAAADqE/B4ZmVwYg9xo/s400/005.JPG" /></a> We played this game called Bananagrams, also known as MakeLisaFeelStupidgrams. It is basically high pressure scrabble - you get a group of letters and have to try to make your own scrabble board in front of you and be the first to use up all your letters.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aT_1koui_nc/TjNR0lqcIpI/AAAAAAAADp8/gwCB8mR6utI/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634937522675786386" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aT_1koui_nc/TjNR0lqcIpI/AAAAAAAADp8/gwCB8mR6utI/s400/006.JPG" /></a> Now seriously, I'm no dummy. I scored pretty high on my SATs and I even used to be a teacher. I'm the smart one in my family. In this family, I'm at the bottom of the intellectual food chain.<br /><br /><br />Ruth would flip over her letters and all I would see next to me is the blur of her arms moving. I would look over and see her words - insidious, ostentatious, perfunctory, untenable. (*Not her actual words. I googled big, smart sounding words and here are a few I came up with just as examples.)<br /><br /><br />I would look down at my words - at, to and the pile of letters I hadn't yet figured out how to incorporate into a word.<br /><br /><br />I kinda hate Bananagrams.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zLMVcH7S2wQ/TjNRAFzpvKI/AAAAAAAADps/4O4EFN9F-gY/s1600/036.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634936620771294370" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zLMVcH7S2wQ/TjNRAFzpvKI/AAAAAAAADps/4O4EFN9F-gY/s400/036.JPG" /></a>So I left the Bananagrams to the big brains and I just ate some cupcakes.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fjz1sPXvLVY/TjNQ_jqT7bI/AAAAAAAADpk/oAllQguvTRU/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634936611605310898" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fjz1sPXvLVY/TjNQ_jqT7bI/AAAAAAAADpk/oAllQguvTRU/s400/004.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MsZdV7h0npY/TjNQ_LukdII/AAAAAAAADpc/99oHi9ViSeo/s1600/017.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634936605180720258" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MsZdV7h0npY/TjNQ_LukdII/AAAAAAAADpc/99oHi9ViSeo/s400/017.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c3CG0mCFAus/TjNQ--EcEPI/AAAAAAAADpU/JwuuaL1opFw/s1600/019.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634936601514348786" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c3CG0mCFAus/TjNQ--EcEPI/AAAAAAAADpU/JwuuaL1opFw/s400/019.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634935488273030098" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-woAb_zigVPg/TjNP-K7Bm9I/AAAAAAAADpM/W375xL51-es/s400/034.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GrX4vnfkuVw/TjNP9uN5EGI/AAAAAAAADpE/u9e7ObDJ8GI/s1600/037.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634935480567533666" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GrX4vnfkuVw/TjNP9uN5EGI/AAAAAAAADpE/u9e7ObDJ8GI/s400/037.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xrlJmNiIpLg/TjNP9H85hQI/AAAAAAAADo8/Jn732xz4Tlo/s1600/038.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634935470295713026" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xrlJmNiIpLg/TjNP9H85hQI/AAAAAAAADo8/Jn732xz4Tlo/s400/038.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5025i29QYF4/TjNP8szaQFI/AAAAAAAADo0/zADkdWZzPL0/s1600/039.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634935463008157778" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5025i29QYF4/TjNP8szaQFI/AAAAAAAADo0/zADkdWZzPL0/s400/039.JPG" /></a>Happy Third of July! </div><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-12757171242956475082011-07-01T21:18:00.002-04:002011-07-01T21:37:31.349-04:00Safety Town<div align="center">Megan spent the last week in Safety Town.</div><br /><div align="center">Safety Town is a fun little place where kids go to learn all about how to stay safe.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r_hfOonNDJk/Tg5y1QCmfVI/AAAAAAAADos/mNBCyWuoroQ/s1600/007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624559243796839762" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r_hfOonNDJk/Tg5y1QCmfVI/AAAAAAAADos/mNBCyWuoroQ/s400/007.JPG" /></a>Here is the Police Chief giving Megan a medal for completing the week-long course.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x_HSMvKXky0/Tg5y07yEM2I/AAAAAAAADok/xRXPMSFUkDQ/s1600/008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624559238358774626" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x_HSMvKXky0/Tg5y07yEM2I/AAAAAAAADok/xRXPMSFUkDQ/s400/008.JPG" /></a>Megan really got a kick out of Casey the police dog. That car is on a remote control, has working sirens and lights, and plays "Who Let the Dogs Out." I want one.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SnEFH8BymrA/Tg5y0LCIVFI/AAAAAAAADoc/2FjcjIoTpq8/s1600/010.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624559225272816722" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SnEFH8BymrA/Tg5y0LCIVFI/AAAAAAAADoc/2FjcjIoTpq8/s400/010.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Aae0Rb5xlvc/Tg5yzuxwIiI/AAAAAAAADoU/c4g66FCgdhg/s1600/011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624559217687929378" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Aae0Rb5xlvc/Tg5yzuxwIiI/AAAAAAAADoU/c4g66FCgdhg/s400/011.JPG" /></a> I learned a lot in Safety Town as well, thanks to Megan correcting me fifty times a day. Did you know I reached the age of 36 without knowing how to properly cross the street, or how to properly stop at a stop sign or railroad crossing? Perhaps they should create a Safety Town for the grown-ups too. Don't worry, now that I have the junior police riding around with me, you know I'm doing it all by the book now :)</div><br /><div></div></div><br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-25072896352937442462011-06-30T12:31:00.006-04:002011-06-30T13:44:16.442-04:00Megan's Cake Decorating Party<div align="center">Last week we celebrated Megan's 5<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> birthday with a party!</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-siiyLcWBatA/Tgyxh_UkvzI/AAAAAAAADoM/iitRlXIB4iU/s1600/017.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624065232170434354" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-siiyLcWBatA/Tgyxh_UkvzI/AAAAAAAADoM/iitRlXIB4iU/s400/017.JPG" /></a>This year's cake was cheesecake cake with strawberry filling, chocolate cake with peanut butter filling, and vanilla bean cake. </div><br /><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j2NpgX6TQu4/TgyxhXIOZHI/AAAAAAAADoE/IoGHM5HLXuo/s1600/023.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624065221381219442" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j2NpgX6TQu4/TgyxhXIOZHI/AAAAAAAADoE/IoGHM5HLXuo/s400/023.JPG" /></a> Instead of doing the backyard party where everyone complains about the heat, we rented an air conditioned hall . . . and then it was a measly, comfortable 72 degrees outside.<br /><br />Oh well.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Yu7dlFqRwI/TgyxhEUNSWI/AAAAAAAADn8/i_2CVclokZM/s1600/022.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624065216331204962" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Yu7dlFqRwI/TgyxhEUNSWI/AAAAAAAADn8/i_2CVclokZM/s400/022.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gy3jYsH30wM/Tgyxgm1iDPI/AAAAAAAADn0/O0K_TWIywd8/s1600/032.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624065208417914098" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gy3jYsH30wM/Tgyxgm1iDPI/AAAAAAAADn0/O0K_TWIywd8/s400/032.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q69YRw4fvzs/Tgyws0DhdHI/AAAAAAAADnk/N9pYa4YN_4Q/s1600/040.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624064318613058674" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q69YRw4fvzs/Tgyws0DhdHI/AAAAAAAADnk/N9pYa4YN_4Q/s400/040.JPG" /></a>My mom made Megan this apron in preparation for some serious cake decorating. </div><br /><div>Cute, huh?<br /></div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TCfLMUvi5OA/Tgywsd9BT0I/AAAAAAAADnc/rBk6928d054/s1600/041.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624064312680206146" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TCfLMUvi5OA/Tgywsd9BT0I/AAAAAAAADnc/rBk6928d054/s400/041.JPG" /></a><br />Then each kid got their own apron, chef's hat, and a little cake to decorate.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nqX5cr2xvas/Tgywr8g3q4I/AAAAAAAADnU/HWg3dD-0Hb4/s1600/050.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624064303703763842" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nqX5cr2xvas/Tgywr8g3q4I/AAAAAAAADnU/HWg3dD-0Hb4/s400/050.JPG" /></a> Megan took this task extremely seriously.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TOIyiZCeyWs/TgywrfRyoqI/AAAAAAAADnM/8Rsc6SNgK30/s1600/051.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624064295855891106" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TOIyiZCeyWs/TgywrfRyoqI/AAAAAAAADnM/8Rsc6SNgK30/s400/051.JPG" /></a> Cake decorating is no joke, after all.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1iSIms17-Kk/Tgyvxm31sMI/AAAAAAAADnE/9dJmD53ymmw/s1600/054.JPG"></a><br />And now for the completed cakes . . .</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HkWqrKlwWeo/Tgyvw-GsTOI/AAAAAAAADm8/Lpa0vNWGgC0/s1600/058.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624063290518555874" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HkWqrKlwWeo/Tgyvw-GsTOI/AAAAAAAADm8/Lpa0vNWGgC0/s400/058.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RtmoRKJlLm0/Tgyvwl6jdmI/AAAAAAAADm0/pSfGeZEqhHg/s1600/059.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624063284025194082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RtmoRKJlLm0/Tgyvwl6jdmI/AAAAAAAADm0/pSfGeZEqhHg/s400/059.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yvw114qisac/TgyvwH7ImvI/AAAAAAAADms/qwXmX4mV_fU/s1600/060.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624063275974564594" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yvw114qisac/TgyvwH7ImvI/AAAAAAAADms/qwXmX4mV_fU/s400/060.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XC5E6Lpycd4/TgyvAKMLoyI/AAAAAAAADmk/3CysqrE6V18/s1600/061.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624062451949216546" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XC5E6Lpycd4/TgyvAKMLoyI/AAAAAAAADmk/3CysqrE6V18/s400/061.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2B95UK7aoGA/Tgyu_QQzIpI/AAAAAAAADmc/p3j4pDyebbA/s1600/063.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624062436399325842" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2B95UK7aoGA/Tgyu_QQzIpI/AAAAAAAADmc/p3j4pDyebbA/s400/063.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JhwnOTGcVG4/Tgyu-8gqmfI/AAAAAAAADmU/rpl34oml98Q/s1600/065.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624062431097166322" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JhwnOTGcVG4/Tgyu-8gqmfI/AAAAAAAADmU/rpl34oml98Q/s400/065.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-40WgSTNmxhg/Tgyu-RZxTnI/AAAAAAAADmM/TZrB6Dwsb3I/s1600/066.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624062419525521010" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-40WgSTNmxhg/Tgyu-RZxTnI/AAAAAAAADmM/TZrB6Dwsb3I/s400/066.JPG" /></a> I think I did my yearly duty of sugaring up all of our friends before sending them home with their decorated cake.</div><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HgEB2QF2t94/Tgyu9yFvwWI/AAAAAAAADmE/KJxlMXFHwWA/s1600/074.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624062411120034146" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HgEB2QF2t94/Tgyu9yFvwWI/AAAAAAAADmE/KJxlMXFHwWA/s400/074.JPG" /></a> And no birthday party photo <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">montage</span> is complete without a photo of the kids and Nana.</div><br /><div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ohWolPIqP28/TgytxS5Fs5I/AAAAAAAADl8/xKGlkjv-xZ8/s1600/076.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624061097075389330" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ohWolPIqP28/TgytxS5Fs5I/AAAAAAAADl8/xKGlkjv-xZ8/s400/076.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div>There you have it folks. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Happy 5<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> Birthday, Megan!<br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8921441120034607351.post-32745422987040442022011-06-07T19:52:00.003-04:002011-06-07T20:29:37.086-04:00Happy Birthday, Chris!<div align="center">This is my father-in-law, Chris. (holding Brendan at Easter)</div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GxsuMGDKbxs/Te66zppKeTI/AAAAAAAADlE/MMlq6SfkVCo/s1600/087.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615631181892188466" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GxsuMGDKbxs/Te66zppKeTI/AAAAAAAADlE/MMlq6SfkVCo/s400/087.JPG" /></a> Chris's birthday is today.</div><br /><div align="center">He called earlier today and I forgot to wish him a happy birthday.</div><br /><div align="center">Oops.</div><br /><div align="center">Black mark #1.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center">His birthday card is still on John's desk.</div><br /><div align="center">Black mark #2.<br /><br /></div><br /><div align="center">Wow, it has not been a good day in the daughter-in-law department.</div><br /><div align="center">As I was pleading my case with him, insisting I'm not the worst daughter-in-law in the world, I pleaded that there must be something good I've done that would erase those pesky black marks.</div><br /><div align="center">We were able to come up with one. (I cooked him food when his wife was sick.)</div><br /><div align="center">Now I'm still left with one <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">stinkin</span>' black mark next to my name.</div><br /><div align="center">I've had some time to think about it and I've come up with quite a few more nice things I've done. </div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center">#1 - I married John. (Admittedly, that may not rise to the level of erasing black marks but I'm including it here anyway.)</div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center">#2 - I helped to expand the Keller clan by two members, not including myself. (Now, that's remarkable and should at least erase half a black mark.)</div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center">#3 - There is no #3. I just threw that in to make this list look longer.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center">Alright, Chris. I owe you half a black mark. </div><br /><div align="center">How's this . . . </div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center">You are the kind of man that produces a son any girl would be lucky to marry. (I really mean that.)</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">You never miss a birthday, anniversary, or any other important day in our lives. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">You are always here for us when we need you.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I really think you are pretty cool.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Cool enough, even, to forgive half a black mark just because of #4.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">#4 - I did a whole blog post just to say . . . Happy Birthday, Chris!!!!!!!!</div><br /><div align="center"></div>my stay-at-home-momma dramahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089707747028225086noreply@blogger.com2