tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60639886310946630202024-02-19T04:57:16.984-08:00The Good, The Bad, & The FamilyThe story of a crazy lady in a house full of boys trying to get through it all with a sense of humor. All hail the queen!The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-35172949481734433592012-11-05T17:37:00.000-08:002012-11-05T17:37:02.411-08:00The Bear Hug<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8AoloThXF4ISqDaS7E6j0aw2v-6K3IPU2r4Bpl4SbJ_PqOE2L8CsdUCjX6uLz1hH2alvRWkd-yfCqrCJpsuIwf-K4MtTJ4iQfAACs0jycfNcQKxDg5c6DkbLD9O1FiB72oqIiXAYGBTF/s1600/baby+leash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8AoloThXF4ISqDaS7E6j0aw2v-6K3IPU2r4Bpl4SbJ_PqOE2L8CsdUCjX6uLz1hH2alvRWkd-yfCqrCJpsuIwf-K4MtTJ4iQfAACs0jycfNcQKxDg5c6DkbLD9O1FiB72oqIiXAYGBTF/s320/baby+leash.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
My baby wears a leash.<br />
Only, we call it the Bear Hug.<br />
Don't judge.<br />
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I have raised three boys. 3. I'm not new to this. The first boy I resisted the urge to use the Bear Hug because I, like so many, had strong opinions about it. I also had two free hands and only one boy. So when he slipped away and ran into traffic it had my full attention. By the time I had my second boy, I started to run short on hands and attention. So we got the Bear Hug. And we loved it! Now we are on our third boy and our relationship had moved beyond love to utter appreciation. <br />
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The fourth of July was the first time we brought out the Bear Hug for our 3rd boy. He was almost 2 years old at the time and we were attending a large festival in our city. Anyone who has ever pushed a stroller is well aware that people in crowds DO NOT move out of the way of a stroller and make no consideration for families with strollers. In a crowd it's just every man for himself. So we chose to use the Bear Hug.<br />
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I wish you could have seen our little boy! Oh the taste of freedom! He just couldn't believe his luck! He spent the day with a huge grin plastered across his face and running through the crowd with his arms out to the side like an airplane! He was in heaven!<br />
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BUT- you should have seen people's reactions to my child and his leash. You would have thought I had handed him a bottle of gin and a smoke and sent him into the crowd. People literally pointed and stared. Meanwhile, other people sat in the crowd on their blankets smoking within feet of other peoples' children and that was okay. But me and my safety leash- oh nooooo! The horror!<br />
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About half way through the day my leash was justified in the saddest way. As my toddler ran and tugged and pulled me though the crowd, we passed a mother with four children (age baby to about 8) and she was talking to the police. Her children were crying and she was visibly distressed. She had lost her 5th child and was working with the police to find him or her. I said a quick prayer for her. I hope I never know that feeling. But that moment solidified my love for the bear hug.<br />
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The same people that judge you for using the leash are the ones that will also judge you for "letting" your child get lost or hit by a car. The reality is that some kids will stay by your side and never think about stepping away from you. Good for those families. The other reality is that some kids have a spirit that takes them beyond their parents reach- literally. I've raised both kinds of children. <br />
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So I will strap my kid in and let him wear his Bear Hug all day long! The freedom makes him happy and the safety makes me happy. I know this is a hot topic for families (and even people without kids) but I think it really boils down to what a parent feels is right in order to keep their children safe. And safety for my boys comes in the form of a Bear Hug!The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-7584944786618747312012-08-05T10:28:00.000-07:002012-08-05T10:28:55.188-07:00The Long and Broken Road<br />
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It's been two and a half years since we lost my father in law to suicide. </div>
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That sentence kinda needs a moment to hang in the air. Because that's where his death remains. In the air. It's always there. Always in the room. Since my husband has began to process his father's death, I refer to the suicide as the third person in our marriage. Of all of the things my husband and I have navigated in our 14 years together, this is the hardest. It's unfix-able. There's no way to make it go away. It's just here. In the air.<br />
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Yet as present as it is, the void that my husband feels is vast. It's so big that he doesn't know how to fill it. And here I stand, as his wife, tasked for eternity with ridding him of what hurts him, and I can't. I can't fix this. I can't explain or kiss it away. I can't find the way out and I don't have the answers. That is a helpless feeling when it's my job to make this man happy and heal what hurts him.<br />
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Since we met there has been this balance in our relationship. I am the mouthy, moody, spirited one and he is the mellow one who pats me on the head and brings me back to level. But since my father in law's death, the balance has shifted. My husband is now left on the other side of the scale with the mood swings and the short temper and I am clinging to his side of the scale trying to figure out how to keep things mellow and pat him on the head. It's a shift in balance I'll accept because when we said our vows, I meant them. For better and for worse. But I'll admit I'm struggling.<br />
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I want to make this better. I want to get my husband back and sometimes I'm scared that I'll never know that same man. I know that over the course of our lives together we will inevitably change. We evolve and we grow. I understand this. I was 22 when I met my husband so we obviously have changed with each other over the last 14 years. But this is different. This is beyond change. This is a change in who he is in his spirit. He is hurt and wounded and I worry that it will stay with him. That the very spirit of who he is won't be able to find it's way back. And part of me worries that this change in spirit will lead him down the same road as his father.<br />
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Irrational? Maybe. My husband has promised repeatedly to never hurt us like that. But what I have learned in the last two and a half years is that people who hurt like this don't always plan an end for years. They try their absolute hardest to hang on. They push it down and force their smiles and they love and nurture the hell out of the people around them because they have so much love for them. But in the end, they can't reconcile that deep down pain and it overwhelms them.<br />
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The first year we didn't get to process my father in law's death because we were in survival mode when I had to be on bed rest from 13 weeks pregnant to delivery at 39 weeks. Then once we had the baby and it looked like things were okay, the baby and I were hit by a drunk driver when he was 4 weeks old. Four weeks after that I had surgery to have my gall bladder removed. So for a year I was the reason that my husband couldn't grieve. I hate that. So I will do everything that I am able to do to help him now. I listen when he needs to talk, I give him space when he needs it, I take him to Survivors of Suicide meetings, I have even taken him to a medium so he could speak with his dad. All of these things have helped. But none have been the fix. I don't think there is one. And that is hard.<br />
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I miss my father in law. I am sad that he won't be physically here to know my children. I am sad that he missed my brother in law's wedding to his amazing wife last year. I am sad that he left his wife when she thought they had the rest of their lives together. I miss his phone calls. I miss the bond that he had with our oldest son. I miss his photographs. I miss his smile. I miss his hugs. <br />
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I am sad that my husband lost his best friend. <br />
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I love my husband in ways I can't even put to words. I am committed to this man for eternity. He is my heart and soul. I won't give up on him. But this is a long and broken road that I don't know how to pave. I also don't know where this road leads. But all I can do is trust in God to keep us on the path He has chosen. We will make our way together.The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-79946623960410202312012-07-18T08:21:00.000-07:002012-07-18T08:21:52.447-07:00This Old House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBBNQfDZSM0ENv_5JiOULYAA2yQsnG3bWNQPWhAhIMtcjaucjTUzZMQNwa2Jv0nSmh9PzFSq9wHRvq0-bTVsLScRL3pt9PO5daLs0wWcQv-AEco2alHB_7AWmhpA6UzZ5FVxYYs0gxB5K/s1600/th_ACleanHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBBNQfDZSM0ENv_5JiOULYAA2yQsnG3bWNQPWhAhIMtcjaucjTUzZMQNwa2Jv0nSmh9PzFSq9wHRvq0-bTVsLScRL3pt9PO5daLs0wWcQv-AEco2alHB_7AWmhpA6UzZ5FVxYYs0gxB5K/s1600/th_ACleanHouse.jpg" /></a></div>
My house was built in the 70's. The carpet is over 10 years old and shows its age quite clearly. The furniture is... well loved. The kitchen is outdated and there's a cabinet door missing. The whole house inside and out could use a new coat of paint. The landscaping needs attention and the irrigation hasn't worked in years. The fence proved no match for my dog several months ago which resulted in a 5 day vacation from our yard. Our windows are single pane aluminum frame and our electric bill reflects their ability to keep heat in and cold out.<br />
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There are toys everywhere. Dishes in the sink. Laundry to be done. Always laundry. My teenager's room smells like a teenagers room. Chances are if you turn the TV on it's set to Sprout. When attempting to walk through any part of my house you will most likely trip over a dog, child, toy, or some form of clothing.<br />
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I don't have a sparkling clean house. I don't have the nicest, newest things. I work two jobs, raise 3 kids, have 3 dogs, and 1 husband. I drive a mini-van. Yet I don't want for anything. There is nothing in my life I'd trade for an upgrade.<br />
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The age, condition, and contents of my house are what make it a home. Shiny and new don't make a home. Clean and sparkling don't make a home. The coolest gadgets and furniture don't make a home. <span style="background-color: white;">My home is lived in. Anyone can walk through my dirty door and see that there is an abundance of life and love in our home. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">The toys that clutter the ground mean that I am blessed to have my children. Some are not.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">The old windows and broken cabinets afford me the opportunity to work hard and appreciate the replacement when it happens. Those who do not want, do not appreciate.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">The overgrown yard means my weekends are filled with family, friends, and many things to do. Some don't know the joys of full days.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">The dishes in the sink mean that I was blessed to cook for my family. Some have only themselves.</span><br />
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My pastor always says that life comes in seasons. Perhaps someday we'll get the new carpet or the new fence. Maybe someday I'll drive a car that doesn't have three rows of seating. And we'll see if someday I am able to come home from work and read a book instead of making dinner and picking up the house. But for now, these things all mean that I have love in my home. My old, run down, dirty home.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-80373545182365933472012-05-27T09:43:00.000-07:002012-05-27T09:43:41.302-07:00Peek-a-Boo! I Smell You!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have been M.I.A.- I know. Life gets a little busy with a husband, three boys, and a full time job. And now, because I obviously needed MORE to do, I have started my own business! I have always been outspoken and full of personality. People pick up on it (especially at in home parties) and are always trying to get me to sell this or that. Make Up, Scrapbooking, Candles, Food, etc. But it's never been my thing. I already have my hands full! Turns out I just never found something that I was passionate enough about. Until I was introduced to <a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Home">Scentsy</a>.<br />
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Last fall the company I work for sent <a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Home">Scentsy</a> Warmers and some bars to each of our office. They did spicy scents to invoke cozy Holiday memories for the customers that visited our office. We had a put out a Pumpkin scent for Thanksgiving and a bayberry and cinnamon scent for Christmas. We have quite a large office space so I was a little doubtful that this little warmer thingy could make such a large space smell good. But it did! Amazing! And everyone who walked through the door commented on it. <br />
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This made me think that this little warmer thingy might work well in my house. I am a smell freak. I have drawers full of candles and storage bins full of various sprays, plug ins, and reeds. But in a house with 3 boys, 1 husband, & 3 dogs nothing had worked the way I really needed it to. So I figured I'd add this to my Christmas list and we could see if it ended up being what I was looking for or if it ended up in the storage container of other failed items.<br />
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My husband, bless his heart, doesn't do computers. So while he knew I wanted a <a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Home">Scentsy </a>warmer for Christmas he didn't know where to get it. So he got me a knock off version and its bars from a local grocery store. I was quite excited! My 5 year old had selected scents himself and he helped me set up the warmer on Christmas Day. So excited! But then, a dud. The waxes they got me required the FULL BAR in order to produce a noticeable smell. So that week I got on Ebay and found some Scentsy bars for sale. Aaaaaaah, much better!<br />
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Then one day an Instagram friend posted some pictures of her Scentsy Inventory. WHAT?! I had no idea she was a consultant! So I contacted her so I could do an order. I ordered a combo pack and got a REAL Scentsy warmer, a plug in warmer, and some more bars. In talking with my friend, she offered to set up an online party and send me her samples so I could take them to my friends. This was great for me because I loved the product so much but didn't want to have an in home party. Through my online party I was able to earn enough FREE product and credit to buy a Silhouette warmer & the two additional wraps, a Twinkle Warmer, and 3 bars of scent. This would have been $124.00 if I hadn't hosted my party. But because my friends bought so much, I was able to earn enough free product and half price items to get it for less than $50.00! I. Was. Hooked.<br />
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I signed up and became a consultant. Never had I been so passionate about ANY product. But after years of searching for the magic bullet that would make my home smell more welcoming and less- manly, I knew I wanted to help other people discover it as well! As I had more children I couldn't keep open flames going around the house so the candles all ended up in a drawer. And the plug ins worked if you replaced them constantly. And let's face it- constantly replacing candles and plug ins is expensive! So what I loved about my<a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Home"> Scentsy</a> warmer was that for between $20-35 (The price of ONE decent jar candle) I could buy the warmer. Then after that the bars are just $5.00! And they last 60-80 hours! That's 2 full weeks of non-stop use. So if you never turn your warmer off you get 2 full weeks of amazing smell. But most of us will turn off our warmers when we are asleep or when we go to work. So really a bar lasts a month! That's way cheaper than candles or plug ins! Plus you can change out the smells whenever you want.<br />
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Once I signed up I was pleasantly surprised to find that<a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Home"> Scentsy</a> provides a copious amount of free sales and marketing materials to its consultants through our online work bench. And if you want added party or marketing materials there's an online store and everything is extremely reasonably priced. You are truly a business owner. <a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Home">Scentsy</a> offers online training, resources, incentive trips, certifications, annual conferences, and recognition! Where has this been all my life! So my first goal is to introduce Scentsy to more people through sales and through introducing them to the<a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Join"> opportunity to own their own business</a>. The second goal is to be able to quit my full time job within the next 1-2 years and sell Scentsy full time. Sound impossible? Check into Scentsy. This is one of the fastest growing companies in the US and it's going global as we speak! <br />
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I am so committed to this company so if you want to know more just let me know. There's way to sell Scentsy for every personality type. Shy? Basket parties and online parties may be your ticket. Super outgoing? Then in home parties and local business sales may be right for you! Plus, you can take your kids with you! I am doing a party this week and my 5 year old will be coming with to play with their kids. There' so reason not to try! Visit my site to<a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Buy/SetupPrompt"> buy Scentsy</a>,<a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Host"> book a party</a> opportunity, or to<a href="https://margaretsimon.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Join"> join my team</a> and make this your career! www.margaretsimon.scentsy.us<br />
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<br />The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-67520520384925804482012-01-11T09:00:00.000-08:002012-01-12T19:20:57.691-08:00Dear Drunk Driver,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9LjXtoDFkGPrrYpHT-DHOrjTJVF56JtQ2u-Ch8CZ_8c7q9Z4yVM338f7R_DyZNf7Csr7Iqb4qErjTaRH__4C9pJcKv3kj0SS8O7Ynoof69WKX5cJubiW-_hjFtMUgzCWSaJS9ls181oWT/s1600/MADD.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9LjXtoDFkGPrrYpHT-DHOrjTJVF56JtQ2u-Ch8CZ_8c7q9Z4yVM338f7R_DyZNf7Csr7Iqb4qErjTaRH__4C9pJcKv3kj0SS8O7Ynoof69WKX5cJubiW-_hjFtMUgzCWSaJS9ls181oWT/s1600/MADD.gif" /></a></div>Dear Drunk Driver,<br />
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It's been 15 months since you hit us. I know this because my baby, who was 4 weeks old and in the car, is now 16 months old. I know that because I have been in pain for 15 months. I have been through physical therapy, chiropractic, massage, and three rounds of cortisone injections in the last 15 months. I have been on pain killers for 15 months. And I am still not fixed. <br />
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I have trouble lifting my right arm due to the damaged disks in my neck that have left me with painful nerve damage in my arm. It's painful to put on a jacket or fasten my own bra. It's hard to lift my own children. My arm is weak. I've woken up in the middle of the night unable to feel my arm or tell if my hand is touching something. Thanks for that.<br />
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I am now 2 inches shorter than I was before you slammed into us. TWO inches. That's about 1/2 and inch for each disk that you damaged. My spine is still a bit twisted. While it's no longer this bad,<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFPIDLVbj3xhpxGD7V6hjLLOPnPDqhNwaRR0VlvKF71H7X_Qzq3usPW0wcsr2dhq35I4U2xHL_oCXdCp5k3MzBUN-IoIV1eY9VifX9wL93LWaMCvtze-qmvzg_FYD_GIhYxleZsQISeub/s1600/Feb-March+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFPIDLVbj3xhpxGD7V6hjLLOPnPDqhNwaRR0VlvKF71H7X_Qzq3usPW0wcsr2dhq35I4U2xHL_oCXdCp5k3MzBUN-IoIV1eY9VifX9wL93LWaMCvtze-qmvzg_FYD_GIhYxleZsQISeub/s320/Feb-March+010.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
My hips don't sit even and I wear down the botton of the shoes on my right foot faster that my left and the clothes I wear always end up twisted to the right of my body. I have had chronic headaches since the accident. For months they were so painful I couldn't get out of bed some days until the handful of painkillers finally set in. This made me unable to take care of my children. <br />
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So tell me drunk driver, were those few beers worht it? Did you have a good time with your buddies? Was it worth it not to wait until you were 21 to drink? Was it worth it not to wait a few hours until you were sober before driving home?<br />
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For the record, I don't wish you harm. I don't want your life to be ruined by this event. You were just a kid. But I do want you to learn. I hope this has been an aweful experience for you too. I hope you kow how lucky you are that no one was killed that night. I hope you realize that God was with you. Yes. You. You were so lucky that we were all in S.U.V.'s and that the car you hit head on after you hit us was a Hummer. You were blessed that night just as we were. But I hope that this shook you. I hope you NEVER make this choice again. I hope that when you got out of your car and saw that you hit a car full of babies that it shook you. I hope you understand the repricussions and that you don't think yourself the victim. I hope you understand why you went to jail and why it's hard to get insurance now or why employers may pass you up because of your history. And I hope you take all these seriosly and accept your responisbility for them.<br />
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As for me, I am still working on recovery. Pain free days are few and far between and surgery may be in my future as all the therapies we've tried these last 15 months haven't yielded results. There's been improvement, but I'm not fixed. I'm tired of doctor's appointments and pain killers. I'm tired of not being able to sleep or waking up in pain. I'm tired of having to think about how I'm going to carry my baby. I'm just tired.<br />
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So please drunk driver, promise you'll never do this again. Please know it's not worth it. Please tell your friends how hard this has been. Now that you know better, do better.The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-11224544227539806622012-01-07T14:44:00.000-08:002012-01-07T14:51:08.387-08:00Wrap it up! A year in review as inspired by @daddyrunsalot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuD36CFMzciXnTMSJ5IT258oiAhuiZ8glEZ08FyMadG2w2_s3-4asimRJe47v6sdDSJSUJu4wcC7N7j-SqYTNQoWbpsr5W5Iv_1yGMG-RmbkrdLskZroQk1Mp9VtrB2nWy4QO5AzMHjrs/s1600/2011.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuD36CFMzciXnTMSJ5IT258oiAhuiZ8glEZ08FyMadG2w2_s3-4asimRJe47v6sdDSJSUJu4wcC7N7j-SqYTNQoWbpsr5W5Iv_1yGMG-RmbkrdLskZroQk1Mp9VtrB2nWy4QO5AzMHjrs/s1600/2011.png" /></a></div>2011 was quite a year. The plate was full but thankfully in many great ways. After the suckage that was 2010, it was a relief to start filling days with happy things. Sure there were hiccups and stubles but comparitively it was a great year.<br />
<br />
So here is the year in review. This idea was <strike>stolen</strike> borrow from my twin John (@daddyrunsalot) over at <a href="http://daddyrunsalot.com/">daddyrunsalot.com</a> - who I adore! It's a glance at the last year of my life in blogs, which I know you've all be eagerly waiting for!<br />
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<strong><em><u>January</u></em></strong><br />
Great blog month where I wrote about <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-modern-family.html">My Modern Family</a>, <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/01/roll-with-it.html">My baby growing too fast</a>, my strong opinions on a <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/01/suck-it.html">mother's right to breast feed</a> wherever she wants, sporting my<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-books-cover.html"> Coach diaper bag at the welfare office</a>, the day I contracted <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/01/last-straw.html">Cooties</a>, coping with <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/01/living-in-wake.html">my father-in-law's suicide</a> a year later, <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/01/ingredients-for-great-husband.html"> the ingredients for a great husband</a>, and <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/01/bed-rest-honest-opionion.html">I responded</a> to an article I was quoted in for The Chicago Tribune in which they called pregnancy bed rest a myth.<br />
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<strong><em><u>February</u></em></strong><br />
For such a short month, February offered up an abundance of blogs for my readers! I started the month by coming to terms with the fact that<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-am-minivan.html"> I drive a mini-van</a>. I then wrote one of my most popular posts which was a recipe for <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/pizza-cupcakes.html">Pizza Cupcakes</a>. I blogged about my <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/dear-morning-i-hate-you.html">hatred for mornings</a>, declared all of my boys my <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-funny-valentines.html">Valentines</a>, realized that I needed to get my <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/have-you-seen-my-snark.html">sense of humor back</a>, took a good hard look at<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/im-melting.html"> my post baby body</a> and threw up in my mouth a little, <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/who-got-award-this-girl.html">got a Stylish Blogger award</a>, got mad at the <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/grandma-has-taken-my-body-hostage.html">grandma who took over my body,</a> created a <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/gratitude-challenge.html">grattitude challenge</a> to thank all the people who were amazing to my family the year before, <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/am-i-too-good-of-mother.html">questioned my own parenting</a> (so you don't have to), and I took a good hard look at why I didn't <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/02/when-i-grow-up-to-be-big-me.html">grow up to be a mermaid</a>.<br />
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<strong><em><u>March</u></em></strong><br />
I started March<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/03/how-today-feels.html"> reflecting</a> on the fact that at that time a year before I could have died and my baby could have died. I became a <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-skinny-brain-surgeon.html">skinny brain surgeon</a>, I realized a was a<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/03/lost-in-sea-of-bloggers.html"> little fish in this whole blogging</a> thing, I saw my <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-babys-world.html">4 year old's heart</a>, and I wrote my number one most popular blog of all time about what <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-big-girl-panties.html">strong ass bitches </a>my family pumps out!<br />
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<strong><em><u>April</u></em></strong><br />
April garnered fewer blogs. But I was able to still declare my <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/04/dentists-are-devil.html">hatred for the dentist</a>, I said <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/04/one-about-my-grandpa.html">goodbye to my grandpa</a> almost a half year after he died, I got irritated by <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/04/vapid-waitress-unemployment-story.html">bad customer service</a>, and I got<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/04/lost-in-paradise-mommy-story.html"> lost in paradise</a>!<br />
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<strong><em><u>May</u></em></strong><br />
As the year continued, the baby got busier, and I had more on my plate I didn't get to blog as much. Ah, the life of a parent! But in May I wrote about turning <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/05/35.html">35</a>, tried to <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/05/busy-mom-update.html">keep you all tuning in</a>, wrote about my <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-maui-memorial.html">Maui memorial</a>, I was able to declare my love for a support group that has heloed my husband and I deal with his father's <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/05/these-are-my-people.html">suicide</a>, I summed up what it's like to live in a <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/05/when-you-live-with-boys.html">house full of boys</a>, and rejoiced in having <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/05/oh-happy-day.html">a normal day. </a><br />
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<strong><em><u>June</u></em></strong><br />
I apparently was feeling overwhelmed with being a stay at home mom in June. While I was only able to crank out two blogs the entire month, they were good. The first was about the imbalance between what happens on <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/06/queen-for-day.html">Father's day vs. Mother's day</a>. The next is one of my favorite pieces I have ever written and it has since been in my top 10 read blogs of all time! It's more of a thesis on<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/06/martinis-at-naptime.html"> housewivery's history</a>.<br />
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<strong><em><u>July</u></em></strong><br />
July offered up some highs and lows. My first blog was a rant on the <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/07/demons.html">demons that haunt you</a> when you raise a child with any type of special need. Then I slid right into the battle between <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-much-is-that-fatty-in-window.html">myself and the mirror</a>, I wondered how the music I listened to growing up got to be considered <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/07/these-cant-be-oldies.html">"Oldies</a>", and I let it all out when I declared that<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/07/sometimes-girl-just-need-good-f.html"> every mom just needs a good f$*#!</a><br />
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<strong><em><u>August</u></em></strong><br />
I went back to work in July so August was my first full month as a working mom again. The first of two blogs I managed in August examined my thoughts on <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/08/hi-ho-hi-ho-its-back-to-work-i-go.html">getting back to "normal".</a> In my second offering I shared our<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/08/relax-its-just-parenting.html"> philisophy on parenting</a> and the lessons we have learned (so far). You're welcome.<br />
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<strong><em><u>September</u></em></strong><br />
Somehow in September I upped the blog count! I am always amused by the <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/09/dirty-panty-pizza-sex-penis-blog.html">search terms used to find my blog</a> and how absolutely random and quite often filthy they are- and how they lead people to me! SO that was my first blog. Then I took you into the dark underworld of<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/09/your-mamas-no-saint-kid.html"> baby fight club</a>, shared what makes my <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-perfect-marraige.html">marraige perfect</a>, I showed my <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/09/cussy-mccusserton.html">boobs on an x-ray</a>, said goodbye to my beloved <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/09/end-of-tv-era.html">All My Children</a>, and did my fisrt and only (not so) <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/09/not-so-wordless-wednesdays.html">wordless Wednesday</a>.<br />
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<strong><em><u>October</u></em></strong><br />
The remainder of the year was a downword blogging spiral with little to offer. But what there was, was amusing! October was a detail of <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/10/mommies-dont-poop.html">all the things mommies don't need now that they have kids</a>.<br />
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<strong><em><u>November</u></em></strong><br />
We ended the blogging year in November when my husband <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/11/second-time-around.html">suffered a second loss due to suicide</a> when his childhood best friend took his own life.<br />
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I am comitted to getting more of these blogs out of my head in 2012. Even though the writing got slim towards the end of 2011, the blogs were all there. They were just trapped in my little mommy head while I learned how to juggle three kids and a job. But I haven't forgotten you my dear readers! So look for more in 2012 and thanks for sticking with me!The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-79493965905627290772012-01-02T11:43:00.000-08:002012-01-02T11:43:49.464-08:00Larry The Toll Booth Guy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdMEbSfEO0xNA3E5LMD5M00Y5JScZ1IpDgonnSwkGq4vP4khTD0TMpmYwgvfiFYQl9hKooj6-QreLCdrXgREIi-vDn4Aq6QUWt5F5Flt2cZdcw986y3oLsjCLXC7gwoiF6VBs4yk9u8a3/s1600/th_toll-booth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdMEbSfEO0xNA3E5LMD5M00Y5JScZ1IpDgonnSwkGq4vP4khTD0TMpmYwgvfiFYQl9hKooj6-QreLCdrXgREIi-vDn4Aq6QUWt5F5Flt2cZdcw986y3oLsjCLXC7gwoiF6VBs4yk9u8a3/s1600/th_toll-booth.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Since I've returned to work,. I've had to adjust to sitting in traffic on the way to work and on the way home. most days it's not too bad and I manage a half hour commute. But sometimes it gets heavy and I get stuck in an hour to an hour and a half of traffic. But I recently found a remedy to make the traffic bearable. I have an iPhone so I'll pull up my Netflix app and listen to stand up comedy routines while I sit in traffic. Yes, I'm that crazy lady alone in her car laughing her ass off.<br />
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A few weeks ago I was listening to a comedian who had a piano brought out on stage so he could read some of his poetry. He didn't play piano so he asked if anyone in the audience did. Several people responded with raised hands and drunken hoots and hollers. Ultimately Larry was chosen. <br />
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Larry walked on stage slowly and at his own pace. He was a heavy set gentleman in a T-shirt and hoodie, shorts, and tennis shoes. He had a dopey look on his face and an even dopier laugh. Some would say that he may have been enjoying a treat of the green leafy variety before the show. He sat down at the piano. The comedian asked his name and what he did for a living. He answered that his name was Larry and that he was a toll booth collector. Classic comedy fodder. The comedian and Larry exchanged a few jokes and chuckles back and forth. Easy money for the comedian as Larry just sat and giggled at every witty comment with no retort. Just a stupid look on his face. God love him.<br />
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Then it was time for the poetry. This comedian's shtick was to read funny and obscure "poems" while someone played different songs in the back ground. All of it was unrehearsed since he pulled his piano player from the audience each time. Whether the player was good or bad, this was a classic comedy formula. There is no way this wouldn't end up funny!<br />
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So he asked Larry to play something smooth. And no one saw what came next. Larry the toll booth guy was a classically trained pianist! He played beautifully. Exquisite even. I was blown away!<br />
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It's been weeks since I listened to this show. And I keep thinking about Larry the toll booth guy. I, just as everyone else in that crowd, took one look at this guy and expected that we were in for a performance of chopsticks or Twinkle Twinkle. But we judged too quickly. Who knew this portly fellow with the stupid grin and the blue collar job was sitting on this amazing talent. And why wasn't he using this gift? It made me wonder how many of us stop using our talents. What happened that made us abandon our dreams and stop using our gifts. Why aren't we the things we wanted to be when we were little. Didn't they tell us that we could be anything we wanted to be? Did Larry really dream of being a toll booth guy? Methinks that he didn't spend hours practicing with a coach to be a toll booth worker. Methinks those hours were spent at a piano. <br />
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I know my current profession wasn't my childhood dream. I also know what took me off course. I became a mom at an early age. Dream chasing stopped and paycheck chasing began. While I'm good at what I do and it definitely takes care of my family, it's not what I dreamed and it's not what I feel I was born to do. So where do we go from here? How do I get back to the place where I chase my dreams? Are we all Larry? Are we all sitting on our gifts? Are we all hiding such incredible talent that no one can see?<br />
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This comedy show I listened to on my way to work one morning left me with many questions. It also reminded me not to judge people by their appearance or even what they do for a living. We are more than our clothing and we are more than the title on our business cards. Let us not ever forget that.<br />
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Thank you for the unexpected lesson Larry the Toll Booth Guy.The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-48608505031748882962011-11-09T12:41:00.000-08:002011-11-09T12:41:36.713-08:00The Second Time Around<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-aVg0bNqMKGScM4rfoAC5SYhHzPIg52jPgS6Hsa0_5FcOJQph3jtFK67noSZHagCAdU5uXYzhETj0G5xULqbMmz9hQdANg5YsxGUfldYM6ZyP1VkjdVIZxyXhujWLYwRjMF42BnxeZ1PJ/s1600/th_love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-aVg0bNqMKGScM4rfoAC5SYhHzPIg52jPgS6Hsa0_5FcOJQph3jtFK67noSZHagCAdU5uXYzhETj0G5xULqbMmz9hQdANg5YsxGUfldYM6ZyP1VkjdVIZxyXhujWLYwRjMF42BnxeZ1PJ/s1600/th_love.jpg" /></a></div>So October became a blogging bust. The month got side railed when we had an unexpected tragedy strike. A childhood friend of my husband’s took his own life. As you can imagine, this sent my husband reeling. Especially because many of the circumstances surrounding this man’s suicide were similar to my father-in-law’s suicide, which my husband is still processing.<br />
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I spent a good portion of the month being angry. Angry at my father-in-law, angry at my husband’s friend, and just angry that I have to watch my husband hurt so much. I love him and I want to fix him. But this isn’t a “fixable” situation. Suicide leaves a mark that never goes away. So we don’t fix, but we learn how to incorporate our grief and frustration into life moving forward. That is what my husband has been trying to do. He tries to heal while I sit on the outside protectively watching over and being angry that he has to endure this.<br />
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The week before his friend committed suicide, I was angry at my father-in-law. It was the week of my husband’s birthday so my husband had lots of pain and mixed feelings. See, once someone you love dearly commits suicide, every holiday and birthday after that is marred. You wish you could see that person or make that phone call. But you can’t. Something is just missing. So I was just mad and my husband was just hurting. Then to find out that this had happened to his friend sent me into protective mode and I was mad again. Here’s what I came to realize and if you are considering suicide please know this:<br />
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Suicide doesn’t take the pain away, it just transfers it to the people you love.<br />
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True story. At my S.O.S. group we hear so many stories of how our loved ones were in a daily agonizing pain that we cannot even comprehend. Knowing they aren’t in that pain anymore provides some sort of weird comfort. But what are we left with? Daily tears and questions. While we can still rationalize that despite our pain life is worth living, it is still an unbearable mess some days. And, yes, it’s not fair that we now carry it.<br />
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My husband’s friend had 2 daughters and a wife that are now a part of our exclusive group. His daughters are 18 & 10. His wife is now a widow. He suffer from bi-polar disorder and was attempting to step down off his lithium so he could feel like himself again. Now he's gone. Not fair. But is it also fair to ask this man to continue to suffer a depression we can’t comprehend? Was the love he felt for his family not stronger that the loathing he had for his life? Did he stop to think about the wake that his absence would leave in the lives of the people who loved him so dearly? Is it fair that his parents have now outlived a child? These are the questions that will never be answered and they are the weight that his family will carry. I know because we carry the same weight.<br />
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Because my husband’s grief process was delayed for a year due to my bed rest, he is in the muck of it right now. And he is now in the double muck because he has lost a father as well as a good friend. My husband is a good man. The best man I have ever met. I know he will get through this. But I worry about him. I want him to be happy and whole. I don’t know how long that’s going to take or if he will ever be the same again. But we made vows so we will continue to evolve together. He is my best friend and my heart.The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-56475252028357348342011-10-01T10:32:00.000-07:002011-10-01T10:32:57.753-07:00Mommies Don't Poop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvp8jYpqbbxhiin2PU-p5-e_t3z2EyIvne4X0w-o4ssvGPutnEbVi2ilA9kPh0PzpmbyMyri0-vgjpngPRdTs1kAL_i8DQLTTuLopKPDg-tD5eHgG0MGpZjZVAs0VpyRQg-QUZL74UhVxd/s1600/th_momsmallkids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvp8jYpqbbxhiin2PU-p5-e_t3z2EyIvne4X0w-o4ssvGPutnEbVi2ilA9kPh0PzpmbyMyri0-vgjpngPRdTs1kAL_i8DQLTTuLopKPDg-tD5eHgG0MGpZjZVAs0VpyRQg-QUZL74UhVxd/s200/th_momsmallkids.jpg" width="200px" /></a></div>OOOOOOOOOOH the exhaustion of motherhood. And we're all in the same boat. You now it well. Here is who you have become ladies. Yes. It's true. According to our kids, the following no longer need to occur because we pushed a person out of our vaginas.<br />
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1) <b>Mommy's don't poop.<i></i></b> This has to be true because out kids certainly don't see the need for us to go to the bathroom anymore and when we do we clearly need their supervision.<br />
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2) <b>Mommies don't stink.<i></i></b> We are fresh and clean all day and no longer require a shower. If we dare to take one, the shower alarm goes off. It sounds oddly similar to our children screaming & fighting.<br />
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3)<b> Mommies don't need dates.<i></i></b> Mom and dad (or mom & mom or dad & dad or mom & boyfriend- you get my drift) love being at home covered in poop & boogers and staying home on a Saturday night. Why on Earth would we need to talk to other grown ups, dress up nice, eat foods that weren't coated in cheese or fried, or watch a movie without a "P" or "G" in the rating?<br />
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4) <b>Mommies don't have sex.<i></i></b> We enjoy being pent up. Oh- and babies come from the baby factory. Not from sex.<br />
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5) <b>Mommies don't need sleep.<i></i></b> Sleep is for babies! With enough Red Bull & Coffee mom will be fine. <br />
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6) <b>Mommies don't need warm food, or food at all<i></i></b>- Who's the last to the table? Mom. Who's barely getting a bite in their mouths between feeding baby, refilling drinks, cleaning up spills, & breaking up fights? Mom. If we get to clear our plates our food will be ice cold. We like it that way. Ask our kids.<br />
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The list is probably longer but I haven't had any sleep and I barely had breakfast so my brain is a little cloudy. But I'll be fine. Just ask my kids.The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-90091764868557602212011-09-28T13:48:00.000-07:002011-09-28T13:48:58.475-07:00(Not so) Wordless WednesdaysI don't know who invented Wordless Wednesday but they obviously didn't have me in mind! I know we're supposed to post pictures and I certaily have those. But the whole worldess thing aint gonna work.<br />
<br />
So here's the words behind my pictures.<br />
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Last Wednesday Iw as driving to work at ass thirty in the morning. Now, for those of you that know me, I DESPISE anything that has to do with the morning. But on this particular morning, I had to relent. God made a pretty amazing sunrise. Here are the pictures I took while driving to work. It was truly magnificent watchign the morning sunrise unfold. Enjoy!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uE-djfMOxix4upe2bnUg_2-4Dp0P26cA-Q3UtyucW1nY8w01V-UjYjVfvSLCyDfTtvUWuWE9QmhvM31-pLaTB70IpxBSpL4u3004rIJofbYzhzKUH0PtLk5fhECy_YBPHYk9mfJYMkzn/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uE-djfMOxix4upe2bnUg_2-4Dp0P26cA-Q3UtyucW1nY8w01V-UjYjVfvSLCyDfTtvUWuWE9QmhvM31-pLaTB70IpxBSpL4u3004rIJofbYzhzKUH0PtLk5fhECy_YBPHYk9mfJYMkzn/s320/13.jpg" width="240px" /></a></div>The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-7516449199513877272011-09-24T09:10:00.000-07:002011-09-24T09:10:26.567-07:00The End of A TV Era<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqZPF0WnrXPtI0lNYziVf7v5E58_rrBOFhSfY6fMGvacJP51YkxDDAeaSKFqH5Zt6P17PA_IK2dwgHaWXj2lXTQKFP-JEuuZ6ad04OxBs1LczO63lVAZXEYyy1MgL9AkrrAl3XPQcF3S5/s1600/All+My+Children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqZPF0WnrXPtI0lNYziVf7v5E58_rrBOFhSfY6fMGvacJP51YkxDDAeaSKFqH5Zt6P17PA_IK2dwgHaWXj2lXTQKFP-JEuuZ6ad04OxBs1LczO63lVAZXEYyy1MgL9AkrrAl3XPQcF3S5/s1600/All+My+Children.jpg" /></a></div>I'm mad. I mean I'm really mad. And disappointed too. And if I'm being honest, I'm a little disgusted as well. Yesterday I watched the end of an era. I watched a part of American history come to an end. I watched pieces of my childhood shut the door. And it just makes me mad.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">All My Children has been a daily staple of American households for over 40 years. There's something about All My Children that America loves more than any other soap opera. Could it be the magnificent Erica Kane? Or the fiendish Adam Chandler. Is it the love affairs that swept us all off our feet like Jessie & Angie or Tad & Dixie? Or Erica and Jeff martin, Tom Cudahy, Adam Chandler (twice), Dimitri Marik (twice), Travis Montgomery (twice), and Jackson Montgomery (1.5 times).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCz93x9rCOmQn0D9x71N_IF3-lsFb1GRmwpQzEGd3SdDi2MzV7zq3mesm_R6FLAK3XwaUzANo36aWj3SIBups9_DZCAsayVNDsBvBW2dmGNViDdqtPeIIjbSMgDYpQOETg9TokdpPYjM2/s1600/Erica+Jack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCz93x9rCOmQn0D9x71N_IF3-lsFb1GRmwpQzEGd3SdDi2MzV7zq3mesm_R6FLAK3XwaUzANo36aWj3SIBups9_DZCAsayVNDsBvBW2dmGNViDdqtPeIIjbSMgDYpQOETg9TokdpPYjM2/s1600/Erica+Jack.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7sSu8BzGwCSS8EfNZYERTP9MB0vZZLj0wHXKsQ9ykfv1fLfAx1IdrFffGHxzAiD5jrjYqUmGm40UUBkdeiSbKq5ZxHb68RZq8IFkzXtbhtVsbPpAVWme-R0KUQ2-aw0iOxcANp9GCDTdg/s1600/th_adam_chandler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7sSu8BzGwCSS8EfNZYERTP9MB0vZZLj0wHXKsQ9ykfv1fLfAx1IdrFffGHxzAiD5jrjYqUmGm40UUBkdeiSbKq5ZxHb68RZq8IFkzXtbhtVsbPpAVWme-R0KUQ2-aw0iOxcANp9GCDTdg/s1600/th_adam_chandler.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I personally have watched it since I was a child when my mom would watch it and I continued to watch into adulthood. Hell! I was sure not to miss it while I was in labor with my first son! While I was pushing! The dedication runs deep y'all. And last year while I was on bed rest for 23 weeks All My Children was my daily transport out of the walls of my room and into another world. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>So I'm really disappointed in ABC. Shame on you for choosing a more "cost effective" production. I'm sure that soaps like All My Children & One Life To Live (Which has also been pulled off the air) come with a larger than average production cost. And I'm sure that reality shows (barf) like The Chew are cheaper to produce. But what good are they if pissed off fans like me refuse to watch them? <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcjn7_UmhNyzGxLaMpNyUHaCrI6IIqLr9hPhxonAI59evKAGiYMiY1MP1E6QghgivglFdLAWMQKxxkhC3Ns5T-QqPKamC2P13m_LsKB88cueYe7FXyHQ-xKWMv6Wls_DpA-D5YR9aRuLv/s1600/AMC+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcjn7_UmhNyzGxLaMpNyUHaCrI6IIqLr9hPhxonAI59evKAGiYMiY1MP1E6QghgivglFdLAWMQKxxkhC3Ns5T-QqPKamC2P13m_LsKB88cueYe7FXyHQ-xKWMv6Wls_DpA-D5YR9aRuLv/s1600/AMC+1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I know that everyone is looking for ways to save money now a days. The economy sucks. I get that. But what ABC fails to consider is that classic soaps like these are an escape for the rest of America that has lost their job and are struggling every single day to get by. It's a moment in our day where we can follow the lives of other people who's troubles far exceed our own. And when I say the LIVES of these people that's exactly what I mean. Not the SEASONS. We have known these people our whole lives. Day in and day out. 5 days a week we are with them. They are family. We've watched their kids grow up and their lives take turns that we never saw coming (and some that we did!). We've rooted for them (19 Emmy nods and FINALLY 1 win for Erica!) and fell in love with them.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EGCc0bxjbpxfXh_lvXoX3HqmQqL02pQBbIEA3DOS7w5TcUeTZdkzGT199__pZEPSlHkDPjw8CqAtZxMPwb9dB1IyHZ81n38DMEu1ec3yQtxIk0iImx44C6svC-iNX3Bid8dBSPioF31Q/s1600/AMC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="68px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EGCc0bxjbpxfXh_lvXoX3HqmQqL02pQBbIEA3DOS7w5TcUeTZdkzGT199__pZEPSlHkDPjw8CqAtZxMPwb9dB1IyHZ81n38DMEu1ec3yQtxIk0iImx44C6svC-iNX3Bid8dBSPioF31Q/s320/AMC.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">But to ABC it's all bottom line. I really think they did the wrong thing here. This is Americana. And they threw it out on the street to be replaced by some crap cooking show we could easily get in 5 different versions on the Food Network. But where will we get another All My Children? I'll tell you where. ABC has licenced the rights to Prospect Park who will continue production in an online format. I'm super happy that our "stories" will live on but I'm still unimpressed with ABC who saved money cutting the show then made money licencing it! So they are making money by dropping an American Classic. That's crap y'all.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Look. I'm just a silly mom blogger. ABC has its reasons. Whatever. I just wanted to show my support for a group of people who have been a part of my life my whole life. I really hope Prospect Park is able to continue this American Legacy in all its glory. I, and legions of other fans, will be glued to our computers following these lives and stories we have come to love.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-19063124123964966482011-09-20T21:54:00.000-07:002011-09-20T21:54:53.897-07:00Cussy McCusserton<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7f5XcTBw3kPpPwhfTD65bFnzyir2qYH4PG3uTM4Knt3UYbB-qS4ETOV1GJwUbs2JnBujw0MyP5hzRSsEpevGtwgTF19if6I1Grpvotnp2EiTi92npwdXoWoXNQVkR2klxSzpvKUlhJjC2/s1600/th_Swearing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7f5XcTBw3kPpPwhfTD65bFnzyir2qYH4PG3uTM4Knt3UYbB-qS4ETOV1GJwUbs2JnBujw0MyP5hzRSsEpevGtwgTF19if6I1Grpvotnp2EiTi92npwdXoWoXNQVkR2klxSzpvKUlhJjC2/s1600/th_Swearing.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I’ve struggled with a dirty mouth my whole life. I blame it on my higher than usual testosterone levels for a girl and my brief affair with a sailor (true story). Since becoming a mom I REALLY try to hold my tongue and be a good girl. But it doesn’t always work. When I lose my temper it just feels good to drop an F bomb or two. Hell. <a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/07/sometimes-girl-just-need-good-f.html">I wrote a whole blog about that dirty little pleasure!</a> I also tend to have a dirty mouth when I’m in pain. If I hurt in any way I’ll cuss. That’s how my loved ones know that I’m in pain. Ironically when the pain gets really bad, I switch to “Stupid” and I pout. <br />
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So anyhoo, this past year, since we got hit by the drunk driver last October, I have been dealing with lots of pain. My back, my neck, headaches, and nerve damage to my right arm. Sometimes it’s “stupid” bad and sometimes it’s just “F-bomb” bad. I’ve done massage, physical therapy, chiropractic, pain killers, and cortisone steroid injections to ease the pain. We’re making progress but there’s always some level of pain each day.<br />
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Then in Mid-July I was blessed to have rejoined my prior employer and become employed again after 17 months of unemployment! Being that almost 7 months of that was spent on bed rest and 9 months of it had been spent dealing with my injuries from the accident, it’s been a hard adjustment to go back to work. I’m trying to adjust from going from extremely minimal activity & stimulation to 100 MPH each day! I’m exhausted!<br />
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The exhaustion paired with the pain has turned me into a Cussy McCusserton! I need to be stopped! Those of you who have followed my blog from the beginning may have noticed a few more cuss words than usual as of late. Oopsie! My bad! I’m really trying to stop!<br />
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You know it’s bad when your son- your TEENAGE son- tries to start a cuss jar. My response to that? I’m not fucking paying you when I cuss! Oopsie again! Point taken. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10GZRQJG5KHeKfybp76ZVvtLrGjeYw9K_3MOE0cPHCJwPfF3Rc10-xWWZRns3RdWIHWnDrwN_FYbU3HeMZADRH81_QO9lRlpA3_bv3_BDk3bfdcJPtG-vTxoMA2rbJfFGex2lyJP3k3e_/s1600/th_jar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10GZRQJG5KHeKfybp76ZVvtLrGjeYw9K_3MOE0cPHCJwPfF3Rc10-xWWZRns3RdWIHWnDrwN_FYbU3HeMZADRH81_QO9lRlpA3_bv3_BDk3bfdcJPtG-vTxoMA2rbJfFGex2lyJP3k3e_/s1600/th_jar.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVG7hhlJ9e6457zZPLoFvh932CvDq6DLIjkRgQ62pX0RorfL0QPEWooHqqMzSgLj5Y5rzvcC7ruIk5nbLxAoMe_pfeZsE5-nEU7NTqVY8hZxLYlPcgSGrn6_89JDfG_HiG0XcTnx6EJmG/s1600/th_OrbitGumAdvertisment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVG7hhlJ9e6457zZPLoFvh932CvDq6DLIjkRgQ62pX0RorfL0QPEWooHqqMzSgLj5Y5rzvcC7ruIk5nbLxAoMe_pfeZsE5-nEU7NTqVY8hZxLYlPcgSGrn6_89JDfG_HiG0XcTnx6EJmG/s1600/th_OrbitGumAdvertisment.jpg" /></a>So I’m really trying my dear followers. I’ve never been much of a lady per se. More of a chick. I doubt my dirty mouth will ever be fully clean (Clean it up with Orbit?!) but I need to exercise that whole “there’s a time and a place” thing my mom taught me. Shit. This is gonna be hard.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div>The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-48333931925529314632011-09-18T12:45:00.000-07:002011-09-18T12:45:11.295-07:00My Perfect Marraige<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsSKrHFAwM7WhrMrWY_imU5INOq9hU7SBU1dlRN9DwyQRTwwMQbTJGn5lF3t3AiGGrdsePuDrWi72wPo4RgDbc4BriAnTd5jl8GJeg2JkWYH81bWWv2nxg9zuyvLk4YjvkL_WX9BogKH3/s1600/Simon+Family.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsSKrHFAwM7WhrMrWY_imU5INOq9hU7SBU1dlRN9DwyQRTwwMQbTJGn5lF3t3AiGGrdsePuDrWi72wPo4RgDbc4BriAnTd5jl8GJeg2JkWYH81bWWv2nxg9zuyvLk4YjvkL_WX9BogKH3/s320/Simon+Family.bmp" width="240px" /></a></div>I was raised by a single mom. A strong and amazing single mom. I also was never that kid who sat around planning her wedding, perfect husband and how many kids she was going to have. I had other plans. So with these things said, I wasn't sure what I expected out of marriage. I wasn't raised within the boundaries of one. I didn't dream about what my someday marriage was going to be like. I just really didn't give it a lot of thought. All I really remember about my thoughts on marriage was that my mom always told me "When you settle, you get what you settle for". Those words stuck with me.<br />
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So going by my mom's unintentional rule, when I got to the point in my life where I dated I knew that I was going to be me. I was going to say what I felt and eat what I wanted. None of this be who he wanted me to be and certainly none of this salad eating giggling girl shit. I knew I wanted a guy who was excited to see me. Who thought I was beautiful and let me know it on a daily basis. I wanted a guy who was devoted to me. And raising your voice to me was never going to be an option for my man. Ever. I wanted a partner. Not a master. Cheating would be a deal breaker. Raising a hand to me would be a deal breaker (and a jaw breaker because I would fuck you up!). And some day if we had kids, the duties would be 50/50. No diaper dodging. <br />
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So suffice it to say, prior to my husband, my relationships were short. No longer than 9months to be exact. I didn't see it as a failure on my part. I saw it as a failure on their part. Because I knew what I wanted and for some reason those particular relationships didn't fit. No biggie. I didn't see the purpose in prolonging things if they didn't fit. Were there tears at the end sometimes? Sure. But in the long run there were far fewer than if we dragged it out for the sake of being in that relationship.<br />
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Enter my husband. We met when I was 22 and he was days shy of 28. I was a strong willed, mouthy single mother of a beautiful 2year old baby. He was an independent bachelor. Both of us were about a six pack away form being gay! Neither of us was looking for someone. We were on hiatus from love due to the exhaustion caused by previous dating endeavors. My husband, in his years, had been better in relationships. He had a couple long and meaningful ones. Me? Not so much. See above. But there was something there from the first day we met.<br />
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Things went slooooooooooow for us. He slept on my couch for months. We didn't day I love you for two years! We dated for six years before getting married. Much of our concern was for our son. I remember when we first started dating he looked me square in the eye and told me "If you EVER put me before your son, I'll walk". To which I let out a hearty guffaw and responded "You won't have to EVER worry about that!". But that was one of many "Good man flags" he put up while we were dating. He wanted to make sure that my son was the priority for both of us.<br />
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So apparently things went well because we have been together for 13 years and married for 7 of them. Our friends always tell us how they admire our relationship. And that goes for those who have lived with us. Day in and day out! It's not just a show y'all! So how do we stay so happy? It's kinda easy. Here's how I have the perfect marriage.<br />
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1) <strong><u>Accept that the perfect marriage doesn't exist</u></strong>- Wait. What? Have I read the title of my own blog? Here's the deal. Years ago I watched an Oprah show where some guy was talking about how Hollywood is ruining marriage. He said that we watch these movies about these perfect happy endings to these perfect happy marriages and we assume that's what ours should be like. So when we get in a lull or have a hard time we automatically think our marriages are broken and we file for divorce instead of accepting that it's a period in time that we will get through.<br />
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2) <strong><u>Sometimes you love them, and sometimes you like them</u></strong>- Marriage and relationships have ebbs and flows. There are times that I look at my husband and I am so deeply and profoundly in love with that man that I could just explode! Then there are times where I look at him and I just kinda like him like he's my best friend (which he is!). I don't feel guilty when I'm not falling all over myself with love for him. Have you ever dated someone who is like that all the time? It gets old. So be okay with the ebbs and flows. It doesn't mean you don't love him just because you like him.<br />
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3) <strong><u>Be grateful</u></strong>- I'm so serious about this one. Show gratitude to your spouse EVERY DAY. It doesn't have to be a big show with cards and flowers. I'm talking about a simple "Thanks for doing the dishes babe" or "I'm so glad you were able to take the kids to baseball practice". The every day things are the foundation to romance. Who gives a flying fuck about flowers and candy if your partner is only doing it to placate you because he/she doesn't do anything else to support your daily lives? Take the expectations out of your marriage and insert gratitude. It works wonders!<br />
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4) <strong><u>Let it all hang out!</u></strong>- My husband and I tell each other everything. But that's not enough in a marriage. you have to be willing to hear everything and accept that you may have a different outlook on things. Even though you are married, you are still two different people with different opinions. If I am feeling like the balance in our home has shifted from 50/50 to 60/40 I will tell my husband that I feel this way and why. Please note that it doesn't mean that it really IS 60/40 or that he let it become 60/40 on purpose. It just means that's what I'm feeling and we need to fix it. If I don't communicate about it it becomes a festering resentment inside me. If I do something I'm not proud of I my husband. If he has a naughty dream, he tells me. It's all out there folks! This is what makes me trust my husband completely and it allows me to admire him more for who he is. This honesty extends to social media folks. My husband has all my passwords and I have all his. I read him my blogs and Tweets. He knows alllllll about my Twitter life! And he loves me anyway.<br />
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5) <strong><u>Sometimes I'm easy & sometimes I'm not</u></strong>- SEX IS IMPORTANT IN MARRIAGE. It's not just important to HAVE it, it's important to like it! And once children enter the picture it certainly becomes more about quality than quantity! My husband and I understand that as parents, our love life revolves around our children. Sometimes they won't go to sleep. Sometimes they knock on the door. Sometimes we have just spent all of our energy chasing after them that we have nothing left to give each other at the end of the day! So there are some months where we are lucky enough to enjoy each other frequently ans there are other months where we forget what we look like naked. It's just part of the deal. It doesn't mean we don't love each other and it doesn't mean we aren't interested in sex with each other. It just means that for a season in our lives, we may have to sleep more than we fornicate. But when we DO do the do, we make it count! Know what your partner likes and be willing to do it (barring anything illegal or immoral. If it ends up on Dateline you may want to skip it). Also, since time is precious here folks, let them know what you like. Take care of you! And even when you aren't making magic, remember that the important thing to do is to still flirt. All day long! It's important to KNOW that even if you can't HAVE sex, that your spouse still WANTS to have sex! And it's important for your kids to see you being flirtatious and affectionate. When ever the kids act grossed out by our affection we always say "But your parents are in loooooooove!"<br />
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6) <strong><u>SAY "I LOVE YOU"</u></strong>- Never ever assume that your spouse knows this just because you put a ring on it. I love you needs to be said numerous times a day and every time you leave or hang up the phone. Your days are NOT guaranteed by any means. Don't be the woman who says "If I had only told him I loved him". My husband and I hold true to this- even when we are unhappy with each other. An angry, pouty "I love you" is better than none at all and it reminds us that despite the disagreement you still love each other. We don't go to sleep without an "I love you". We "I love you" the heck out of each other daily, especially around the kids. "I love you" is a security blanket for each other and your kids. Make it a habit immediately.<br />
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7) <strong><u>Keep it pretty people</u></strong>- Remember when you were dating and you dressed up and made sure your breath was minty and you smelled good? Well what part of the vows stated that you would only do this on special occasions after the wedding? You still need to impress your spouse. America's divorce rate is a testament to this. We should strive to be the person our spouse wants to come home to. Look. I'm fat. I just went through 23 weeks in bed while pregnant with a 10lb baby, a car accident, & gall bladder surgery all in a year's time. Working out hasn't been an option (outside of physical therapy). This takes a toll on your self esteem and make you want to throw your hands up and grab the closest pair of sweats! But fight that urge! Each day I shower, do full make up, hair, and perfume. I may not be the 140lb 20 something he fell in love with but I'm the strong, beautiful, amazing woman he chose to spend forever with so I'm going to make sure I look my best for him!<br />
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8) <strong><u>Marry the right person</u></strong>- It goes back to the "When you settle, you get what you settle for" rule my mom instilled in me. None of the above listed items matter much if you married someone just to marry them and you didn't make sure they are willing to truly share this journey with you. How many times have you known a couple who didn't discuss whether they want children or not until after they are married? And how many couples have you known that weren't on the same page sexually and it had negative effects on their marriage? Did your spouse expect you to stop being who you were once you "settled down"? These are good things to know prior to the wedding. Don't marry just to be married! Forever is a long ass time! Be sure the person you walk down the aisle with is not the one you are settling for.<br />
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Now I know that some of you may read this and roll your eyes. Maybe you are divorced and your marriage WAS happy for a really long time until some unforeseen shit hit the fan. I'm not by any mean daring to presume that this is the secret marriage formula that has been missing for millions of years until my husband and I discovered it. Not at all. I'm stating that this is the formula that has worked for my husband and our family. I love this man. I admire this man. I am grateful for him and I want to be better for him, myself, and our children as a result of our marriage. To us our marriage is perfect. This family is the love of my life and I will continue the work and do what it takes to protect it. Who knows that the future holds. Who knows how long we actually have. But for now I am proud of what we have built and I thank God every day for it.The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-21894661307729068552011-09-12T21:35:00.000-07:002011-09-12T21:35:27.835-07:00Your mama's no saint kid.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC76YlXMETDJq_8Jje6Jk0SLqz_2SKN4yKA8FANra6Q3ArngHPxqAwf9Pr1voO-Ls3u1qo18wO5S0sPBN-YTPpZLfxiLo7eu8DVHbrsZfTZqzs5OYY8rdWzgybTju9FZG4Xd2QdeEDzlJd/s1600/th_coolcalmmomthick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC76YlXMETDJq_8Jje6Jk0SLqz_2SKN4yKA8FANra6Q3ArngHPxqAwf9Pr1voO-Ls3u1qo18wO5S0sPBN-YTPpZLfxiLo7eu8DVHbrsZfTZqzs5OYY8rdWzgybTju9FZG4Xd2QdeEDzlJd/s320/th_coolcalmmomthick.jpg" width="252px" /></a></div>The other day I was yelling at the kids. No really. True story. Take a journey with me if you will. The 15 year old was fighting with the 4 year old- AGAIN. This all started when I selfishly stepped into a shower. <br />
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<strong><em><u>First rule of baby fight club: Always throw the smack down when mom is on the toilet or in the shower. This makes for optimal fight response.</u></em></strong><br />
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So I come out of the bathroom still dripping wet (trust me it's not as hot as you think) and mad as Hell. "What are you fighting about NOW?!"<br />
The answer was the usual "He never listens to me!"<br />
"He was being mean!"<br />
"He looked at me funny!"<br />
"He hurt my feelings!"<br />
Blah,blah,blah.<br />
Followed by me begging them to explain what on Earth two kids 11 years apart in age can possibly have to fight about! Why can't they just get along? Do they like fighting? Why can't they speak kindly to each other? Why? WHY? WHYYYYYYYYYY?????<br />
In my defense, this was the morning after the baby's 1st birthday BBQ and I hadn't had coffee yet. So I was begging. BEGGING to know why this continued to happen every time I stepped into the shower.<br />
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<strong><em><u>Second rule of baby fight club: No one talks. The less you say, the more that vein on mom's head throbs.</u></em></strong><br />
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We're now at the point where neither kid will speak. That's infuriating! So I ask the oldest, as he glares at me, "Why are you so mad at him? He's FOUR!"<br />
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Then the response comes.<br />
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"I'm not mad at him. I'm mad at you"<br />
WWWWWWWWTTTTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFFFFFFF?!?!?!?!?!<br />
"Mad at me?! WHY?"<br />
"Because you always yell."<br />
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!<br />
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<strong><em><u>Third rule of baby fight club: Deny. Deny. Deny. It's NEVER your fault. It's always the parents' fault. This rule carries into the teen years.</u></em></strong><br />
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I then launch into the old "I only yell because you don't listen" diatribe. But later I sat and stewed on this moment. What on Earth makes our children think that we are these mommy robots who will willingly accept the fight and let them have at it without repercussions because this is what we signed up for. Are we not allowed to shower? Are we not allowed to sit alone in a bathroom for 5 minutes to do our business. Like the title "Mom" erased those rights for us?<br />
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Parents aren't perfect. We don't enter into parenthood perfect and we certainly don't achieve any level of sainthood as we navigate our way through the child rearing process. But our children are still thrown off when we have human moments like losing it when they fight. <br />
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Moms and Dads make bad decisions, swear, yell, etc. every day. Because we're people too. We use the bathroom and we shower too. So it's about time you get used to that! We cut you slack all the time so try and give us a bit of slack from time to time too. We aren't mommy & daddy robots. We have a history and a story. We fought with our siblings and made bad choices too. So we know a thing or two about the business of childhood. <br />
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<strong><em><u>Final rule of baby fight club: Never underestimate mom and dad. They have a crazy look in their eye and something tells me they won't go down without a fight.</u></em></strong>The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-40359474438801428092011-09-04T13:16:00.000-07:002011-09-04T13:16:34.495-07:00The dirty panty pizza sex penis blog. Otherwise know as "The Best Blog in History"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RdDy2_xyHgE1co5flkM5qg08uZl0E0X-b3psGrFim1V0hXqNvpfaWRbaP6IQ9c9nk6AK7jM04UpkXkDn0U6bGmZ1yDRVegmdJO7nEVJ5uQzEwcogcIN2UGku2pNaCr2V15AVo5MJz04m/s1600/th_computer-crazy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RdDy2_xyHgE1co5flkM5qg08uZl0E0X-b3psGrFim1V0hXqNvpfaWRbaP6IQ9c9nk6AK7jM04UpkXkDn0U6bGmZ1yDRVegmdJO7nEVJ5uQzEwcogcIN2UGku2pNaCr2V15AVo5MJz04m/s1600/th_computer-crazy.jpg" xaa="true" /></a></div>If you have found this blog by using a search engine and typing in key words of a certain nature, prepare to be grossly disappointed! This is soooooo not that blog! But it always amazes me how many people find my blog by typing in such seriously disturbing things! You are some sick puppies!<br />
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If you look at my top 10 blogs, there are some amazing pieces of literary art there. However, I'm willing to bet that they aren't all there based on their amazing literary content. Rather, they are at the top of the list because of sickos searching for naughty things that raised the click count. Some of these include:<br />
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<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-big-girl-panties.html">My Big Girl Panties</a> A story about being a strong woman. NOT a story about women's panties and if you mom, brother, sister, or room mate is currently wearing them.<br />
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<a href="http://thegoodthebadthefamily.blogspot.com/2010/08/naughty-stories.html">Naughty Stories</a> This is a blog about cherishing all the naughty things your children do because they make the best stories to tell down the line. NOT a story about naughty nurses, grandmas, girl scouts, or the like. You sick bastards.<br />
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And so it continues. Some of my favorite (I guess) search terms that have been used to find my blog include these classics:<br />
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"person with 2 penises"<br />
"big lady knickers"<br />
"Should I wear my sister's panties"<br />
"naughty knickers"<br />
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But it's not just me that's a pervo magnet! It's my fellow bloggers as well! I asked my Tweeps to provide the funniest search terms used to find their blogs. Here's' what we got!<br />
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My homie Princess Amy at <a href="http://www.notarealprincess.blogspot.com/">Not a Real Princess (Except to my boys)</a> Has found "MILFs in thongs and Pooped my pants" in her stats. Awesome.<br />
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Then my girl Alisha at <a href="http://blahyaya.com/">Blahyaya</a> has gazed upon the words "True story mom and aunt fucked me". WTF?!<br />
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Lidia at<a href="http://lidia-anain.com/about"> Lidia-anain</a> gets the extra special pleasure of having creepy stalker style search terms! "Lidia Anain lives, Lidia Anain age, & Lidia Anain pictures"<br />
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Over at <a href="http://fairytaleforgotten.blogspot.com/">Fairy Tale Forgotten</a> my friend gets things like "Naked fairy tales". Huh?<br />
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Then there's the sad ones like my friend Michele at <a href="http://professionalgremlinwrangler.blogspot.com/">Professional Gremlin Wrangler</a> who got this gem "I'm 16 pregnant and addicted to cocaine". How that lead anyone to her parenting blog is a mystery.<br />
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And finally my very favorite collection of search terms was provided by my Twitter Twin John over at <a href="http://daddyrunsalot.com/">Daddy Runs A Lot</a> who checks his stats to see things like "bin Laden boobs," "midget porn," "how to maintain celibacy". Well some guys just get all the luck!<br />
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So no doubt that with all these search terms actually IN my blog, this will become my most popular post in all of history. Sad for the sickos who were expecting to see two kittens nursing on a naughty nurse while she defecates on a piano. But great for my stats! Thanks you sick fucks!The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-77473684038445244032011-08-27T11:01:00.000-07:002011-08-27T11:01:37.141-07:00Relax. It's just parenting.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja8_shX5Gb_zckhZswhP_tz7xuqIfuGgUW1ZU0M4OuRMW8N2t4GJaapQ1YPqQQllKAzxGoxCv-h2mkCBeSDDE8XC-98q8PTTVqsGGWNebtV9rjAuwXgl9IcOcCvebl_U7ME0RtC1IOndF5/s1600/parenting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja8_shX5Gb_zckhZswhP_tz7xuqIfuGgUW1ZU0M4OuRMW8N2t4GJaapQ1YPqQQllKAzxGoxCv-h2mkCBeSDDE8XC-98q8PTTVqsGGWNebtV9rjAuwXgl9IcOcCvebl_U7ME0RtC1IOndF5/s320/parenting.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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I used to be a helicopter. I mean a full on hovering war craft looming over my kids and prepped for battle in the event that something were to happen or if they even started to make a bad decision. I was going to swoop in guns a blazing and stop it from happening! To some extent I still hang on to some of those helicopter mentalities. But for the most part I now realize that being this type of parent doesn't benefit your kids. It actually does more harm than good. The change in me came with a series of classes I took at church. It was "Parenting with Love & Logic". I highly recommend the DVD, Books, or classes if you have the chance! It changed who I was as a parent and the relationship I was on the verge of ruining with my (at the time) pre-teen.<br />
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The class taught me that my kids weren't the first kids ever. Funny right? But isn't that how we treat them? Like kids have never been invented. Like they've never survived without our constant watch for 18 years. And one of the points that the instructor brought up was that we trust our dogs to learn our commands and use them more than we trust our kids. Think about that one. Mind. Blown. It also pointed out that I needed to get over myself because I was not the first parent ever. I wasn't the one who discovered parenting and I will never be the best at it! That's not an insult people. It's a truth.<br />
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Parenting also is not a dictatorship. It's a partnership with your children. Specifically in the teen years. If we hover over them and don't allow them to learn decision making they become failures in the real world. It's best to allow them to make decisions and take responsibility for bad ones while they are still under our "direction" than when they are adults and there is no one (other than their parole officer) to guide them. The class touched on lessons like not running lunch or homework to your child's class when they forget it. In the real world if you forget, you deal with it until the next day, you learn from it and you don't do it again. It taught bigger lessons like letting your child sit in a jail cell when they are teens and they get caught doing things like shop lifting or drinking. The lessons have to hurt. Sure it's hard for us too. But better a hard lesson now than a permanent scar on their record later.<br />
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These classes changed who I was as a parent. Which is good but also challenging. It's good because my relationship with my teen is a good one. He knows we will be there to talk his bad decisions out not hover over him yelling without giving him the chance to speak. Think about it. In the real world if you make a big mistake at work, do they bring you into a room, surround you by your bosses, scream at you, take away your computer, and tell you you're a bad person? Hopefully not! It's more likely that they'll bring you in a room, discuss the transgression, and either hold you accountable (via termination, write up, etc.,) or create a game plan to avoid the error in the future. So which style of parenting prepares your teen for real world scenarios? We have chosen discussion, action plans, & apologies. Teaching our teen to talk things out and express their reasoning prepares them for the real world when they may have to do the same with a professor, employer, or cop. This has reduced the amount of fights in our house but raised some eyebrows with people near us. We get it. People still like to scream at their kids. They like to feel like they are in charge. Great. If that works for you, do it. But this is our family and this is how we've chosen to do it.<br />
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For our younger children, many of the lessons are the same but the delivery and the scale is different. Some of the examples in the class for younger kids include picking your battles. Like if it's freezing out and your child is insistent on not wearing a coat (classic power struggle right?!) then simply say "Okay" and take it along in case they change their minds. What are the chances that they will die of hypothermia that day? Slim to none. But what are the chances that they will learn that a jacket is an excellent choice on a cold day and decide to wear one moving forward? Sharing the decision making on small things reduces the amount of stress in your life and allows your child to learn how to care for themselves and make the right choices. This is what our job is right?<br />
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Our house a co-op. We all make choices and share decisions. This has greatly reduced our need to fight. We like it this way and we feel it's beneficial to our children. We have the understanding that our kids are going to make bad decisions some times. Our kids are going to say naughty things sometimes. Our kids are going to get curious about boobs in their teen years. Our kids may get caught cheating in class. Our kids may be brought home by the police at some point in their adolescent life. Our kids may bite another kid. Our kids may break things. Our kids may not always like us. They aren't the first kids ever. Kids have done this (and worse) for millions of years. Does it still hurt us as parents when they make the wrong choice? You bet! There's no escaping that! But we have to understand that it's a part of their process. We did the same things or different things when we were kids. And so it continues. <br />
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This is what we signed up for parents. There isn't a single parent in the world who hasn't had to face bad behavior. This is literally the job folks. And we need to be respectful about the job and humbled by the work. Don't judge your fellow parents because they choose to lead their families differently. Don't side eye that lady at Walmart (raises hand) giving her kids what for in the parking lot. As long as we are guiding our children into the right decisions and holding them accountable for their actions that's what counts. And if you haven't been there yet, hold your tongue. Karma's a bitch. Don't judge the struggles of teen parents if you haven't had a teen yet. And don't tell a toddler mom she's doing it wrong when your baby is still in diapers. You are not exempt. It WILL happen to you! Have respect for the work other parents are doing for their families.<br />
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Am we perfect parents? HA! Not close! I'm the lady losing her cool some days in the Walmart parking lot. I'm the lady letting my kids stay up past bed time simply because I missed them a little extra at work that day. I'm the lady who has been known to drop an F bomb or two in front of the kids in traffic. But I'm also the lady God chose to turn these boys into men. Good men who make good choices. my husband is the man that God chose to guide them and lead by his character. God did this. God knew what he was doing. So even when it's hard, even when it's ugly, even when you're overwhelmed by this job, just remember: Relax. It's just parenting.The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-39965815455851469582011-08-08T13:49:00.000-07:002011-08-08T13:49:01.147-07:00Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It's back to work I go!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgT1kB9uQRyzFk4Xi3k6q0DzFEPHozTWyfuNv4EUVNAgGOvhCnh93ZUiF3Lo409cvbnoSOKOZni08_e3OkLjtBklFbyNjs7PmzTYSlr2j0H-Ss9TbEI4xmKp0GwYe8Yt_bCO0tgbxqKy4D/s1600/th_workingmom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgT1kB9uQRyzFk4Xi3k6q0DzFEPHozTWyfuNv4EUVNAgGOvhCnh93ZUiF3Lo409cvbnoSOKOZni08_e3OkLjtBklFbyNjs7PmzTYSlr2j0H-Ss9TbEI4xmKp0GwYe8Yt_bCO0tgbxqKy4D/s1600/th_workingmom.jpg" /></a></div>Last month the answer to our year and a half long financial prayers was received when I was invited to rejoin my prior employer whom I had parted ways with due to a disposition 3 years ago. I got the job offer on a Friday and by Sunday I was on a plane to San Francisco for orientation! Way to kick it back into gear right?!<br />
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It's been a mixed bag of emotions with me retuning to work. A part of me loved having the opportunity to be a stay at home mom for so long and after 23 weeks of bed rest I surely appreciated 10 whole months of time with my baby before returning to work! But part of me has always been a working mom. This has been a balance that I've been familiar with since I was a baby as my own mother worked hard while raising us three girls on her own our whole lives. This was my example and I follow it proudly. I also have worked regularly since becoming a mother so I don't really know anything else.<br />
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I'm glad I got the opportunity to be at home for a while as it taught me many things (that I suppose I already knew) about myself. Like the following:<br />
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1) I need daily structure. Without it my ADD reigns supreme and I don't get nearly as much done!<br />
2) I NEED to miss my kids. Guess what. You don't get to miss your kids when they're always hanging off you!<br />
3) I need to be recognized for the work I do. Not once while I was at home did anyone say "Mom, those socks you folded yesterday were an amazing piece of work!" or "Sweetie, your toilet cleaning skills above expectation!" <br />
4) I need days off. That's the funny thing about being a stay at home mom. No days off. Same thing every day.<br />
5) I want to teach people and have them listen. Employees are faaaaaaar more likely to listen to advice than children. Hands down.<br />
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There were so many things I was so grateful for while I was home too though!<br />
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1) It was reaffirmed that my husband and I are true soul mates and partners. I mean, I was 100% reliant on him the whole time I was on bed rest. Day in and day out. And you know what? He was amazing and we did fine being together every stinkin day! We lived each one of our vows, "In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or for worse" and came out on top. I love you honey!<br />
2) My kids are amazing little people! I knew it before but it was amazing to see them in their daily habits and routines. When you work your days with them on the weekends are either running errands or doing something out of the ordinary like the zoo.<br />
3) My sister and her 4 kids moved 2 blocks away (from California) just before I gave birth. So I got to spend a ton of time with her and the kids during their first year in Washington! A real treat since I've lived here for 13 years and haven't been able to get to know any of them.<br />
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So while my time home was blessed I am so glad to have been able to return to work. And for a company I truly love! I think this may have been part of the plan this whole time. There were lessons I learned and like I always say, sometimes God whispers and sometimes he yells. I don't think I was listening too well so he had to yell. But great lessons came from all of the grief of the past year and a half so I wouldn't change any of it- with the exception of my father-in-law's suicide. That I would change in a heart beat.<br />
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I am doing work differently this time and I made that clear in my interview. I stated that for this season in life, I want a lighter load so I can go home on time each day, not work weekends, not be on my laptop each night after the kids go to sleep. I want more of a balance to my work and personal life than I allowed before. And so far I think I'm doing it. I take lunch breaks and leave on time so my time with my family is not compromised. I hope I keep this pace because it's pure bliss!<br />
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Yes, it's back to work I go. But in the end, my home is still my #1 priority!The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-13482412671985574262011-07-31T10:31:00.000-07:002011-07-31T10:31:59.069-07:00Sometimes a girl just need a good F$*#!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVciQWoDMAE_W4n2_Z1zMKL0qZom1ptO-1jsWnlpnCuQ6h9vIoD5IKfN78QzMTnKjbUofDHsYAM5NT5W1WYeFGy7okaJPE9ulaANDuoIfuGRi5cOfLhNC-JOOVKg37ZHdksd2KMtO2tUH-/s1600/F.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVciQWoDMAE_W4n2_Z1zMKL0qZom1ptO-1jsWnlpnCuQ6h9vIoD5IKfN78QzMTnKjbUofDHsYAM5NT5W1WYeFGy7okaJPE9ulaANDuoIfuGRi5cOfLhNC-JOOVKg37ZHdksd2KMtO2tUH-/s1600/F.jpg" t$="true" /></a></div>Somtimes life gets overwhelming. Sometimes you can feel the anxiety building. Sometimes you're just down right pissy and you need a release. Yes, sometimes you just need a good F$*#! <br />
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Let me clarify that I'm not talking about what you dirty birdies probably think I'm talking about (although that's kinda great too!). I'm talking about screaming out the F word! You know it feels good ladies. There's something so amazing and cathartic about peppering your sentances with an F-Bomb or two!<br />
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"Where are my F-ing keys?!"<br />
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"Why is this F-inbg house never clean?!"<br />
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"Green means GO F-er!"<br />
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"Clean your F-ing room!" (as said to your husband because none of us would ever utilize this foul language with our sweet children)<br />
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"Are you F-ing kidding me?!" (My personal fav!)<br />
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Yes, that ever versitile word packs a punch that only it can do. It turns a request into a demand. It shows you mean F-ing business. And it provides a form of release that only the F-bomb can do.<br />
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There is a time and a place for the F word. You don't just bust it out anywhere ladies. You can't just drop it at work, the grocery store, or church.<br />
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"Where are my F-ing reports?!"<br />
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"Are you guys out of F-ing Cool Whip?"<br />
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"A-F-ing-Men"<br />
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No. You need to choose carefully when and where you use this most beloved of words. It is a gift, a treasure, a delight.<br />
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For me personally it's like taking the cap off an emotional bottle. I keep my cool as long as possible but once I reach F-bomb status we know I've hit a wall. And at that point the addition of the F bomb to every other sentance is sheer luxury upon my lips! It eases the intensity of the moment. It's like tiny moments that ease my tention and provide clarity.<br />
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I am most likely to use the F-bomb during a bad day or when I'm in pain. For either instance the people around me know that once the first F-bomb is dropped it's all business!<br />
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So while I don't use it as part of my every day vernacular, I love it so. It may not be an every day thing but sometimes a girl truly does just need a good F$*#!The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-10007965575477299742011-07-17T12:30:00.000-07:002011-07-17T12:30:13.090-07:00These Can't Be Oldies!I grew up in an age of really great music. And I know you wouldn't know it by looking at me but I was hella gangsta in my teen years. Okay...maybe not. And before anyone calls bullshit I'll raise my hand and admit that Madonna was my Lady Gaga growing up. But the rap and R&B music in the 90's was amazeballs! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08UmDdGYp1MZqh_8_wvKAD1ph0Ta5WePN11kX0fgkhD8_qgpe2T9UJ5sJhaMqq_vUhUpfOl0_Duo0nKR3HDnSls3lq1huccRPjY18CzFq65GjaubB_eF7ZAWX6ogZDao_xhXVocNWlck1/s1600/th_erikbrakim-1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08UmDdGYp1MZqh_8_wvKAD1ph0Ta5WePN11kX0fgkhD8_qgpe2T9UJ5sJhaMqq_vUhUpfOl0_Duo0nKR3HDnSls3lq1huccRPjY18CzFq65GjaubB_eF7ZAWX6ogZDao_xhXVocNWlck1/s200/th_erikbrakim-1.gif" width="160px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Cu5L3QS47gOsDfOxamHZzR-tKvXwCcto5GZJK4Pm-qUqNj8IoAItGhbPOucjYXcGxNQx7JsvprqaAwEwUbKQ04gnPZxRU-5kfZu-MA5bA-xZgs4NXy9stt737CTUYVyfX9V1_zOqexBD/s1600/th_tupac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Cu5L3QS47gOsDfOxamHZzR-tKvXwCcto5GZJK4Pm-qUqNj8IoAItGhbPOucjYXcGxNQx7JsvprqaAwEwUbKQ04gnPZxRU-5kfZu-MA5bA-xZgs4NXy9stt737CTUYVyfX9V1_zOqexBD/s200/th_tupac.jpg" width="113px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DXdpxPxmIA3KjYp2v66iaAo4eQwY_-FSyqGKDgV4h-BGL6jy1aR6LSrtLoUZ2iurizvgNOIRksoK6qsj2PeDxA0G4S9MkqypswiCr_lJfG3q_EhYfmUwGQpirJrmRE7tbmggzqKYlrMM/s1600/th_NWA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="121px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DXdpxPxmIA3KjYp2v66iaAo4eQwY_-FSyqGKDgV4h-BGL6jy1aR6LSrtLoUZ2iurizvgNOIRksoK6qsj2PeDxA0G4S9MkqypswiCr_lJfG3q_EhYfmUwGQpirJrmRE7tbmggzqKYlrMM/s200/th_NWA.jpg" width="160px" /></a></div><br />
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Music in the 90's was about enjoying life, partying, and having fun! It was before Gangster Rap was really prevelant but there were rappers that were hard core and carried strong political messages.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrZvlzzhlRnPCsy8QtZLHhmIwyiNXxbezHcdbZlahYp5WAM7ZcEUMgWo2AAxC2sB5ufTF2Ok43E-AUzMGMw0peuL9whGx3Bnp7OrswbqW1ILJUc0EqtvRjpu3tgvVaYOq8ShQugkFg45r/s1600/th_swv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrZvlzzhlRnPCsy8QtZLHhmIwyiNXxbezHcdbZlahYp5WAM7ZcEUMgWo2AAxC2sB5ufTF2Ok43E-AUzMGMw0peuL9whGx3Bnp7OrswbqW1ILJUc0EqtvRjpu3tgvVaYOq8ShQugkFg45r/s200/th_swv.jpg" width="160px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3l5A8f6W1XzozrEhYhL0CQk8C2iRnRHsYEpa_j6CsKStfihG-L2uH3Qd0pTbrKPavvdm2mx_Lh34yTAtLVUYEDUlKaNn3tNXg2COf5W_9PZj7XWdBdoxxkUQHgDMdCrdfh6AURyW6nQK/s1600/th_65acdffc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3l5A8f6W1XzozrEhYhL0CQk8C2iRnRHsYEpa_j6CsKStfihG-L2uH3Qd0pTbrKPavvdm2mx_Lh34yTAtLVUYEDUlKaNn3tNXg2COf5W_9PZj7XWdBdoxxkUQHgDMdCrdfh6AURyW6nQK/s200/th_65acdffc.jpg" width="160px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7cd9VKNClBdD98WQI_lRK_9bZoKpi6MGlfE8MTHnWBxbSY2zGiNWB2U_pYVSSoVLJE1ucT7K_Ri8bY8yrjwi5Pov-e-_9AiCmV_UehpVGUVefPr5uxjqY0LSaZ_zJWpiz_X6-KtMaoag/s1600/th_queenlatifa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7cd9VKNClBdD98WQI_lRK_9bZoKpi6MGlfE8MTHnWBxbSY2zGiNWB2U_pYVSSoVLJE1ucT7K_Ri8bY8yrjwi5Pov-e-_9AiCmV_UehpVGUVefPr5uxjqY0LSaZ_zJWpiz_X6-KtMaoag/s200/th_queenlatifa.jpg" width="128px" /></a></div><br />
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R&B divas were having their day like no other! Ladies like En Vogue, Toni Braxton, Mary J. Blige, SWV, & Xscape were singing sweet melodies in my teen ears and I loved it! And the men were tearing it up too with the likes of Jodeci, Boys II Men, Color Me Badd, Shai, and more. Music from A Tribe Called Quest, Digital Underground, Salt-N-Peppa, Blackstreet, De La Soul, and even MC Hammer provided a sound track to my youth that is still fun to listen to today.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvaPboqRlhCIzacFZPbeyzHOu0_r_4qzBzjXA5BFwD-UV9MiWvQe2nP6l30wpMzrLP29dNsyyTfKJHFVBuZ7mP3X65QOM3_A7V9mor861BgMrE1hQJedyIKFbCkCwRIK-pQnSiK6VIzp0C/s1600/th_tribe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvaPboqRlhCIzacFZPbeyzHOu0_r_4qzBzjXA5BFwD-UV9MiWvQe2nP6l30wpMzrLP29dNsyyTfKJHFVBuZ7mP3X65QOM3_A7V9mor861BgMrE1hQJedyIKFbCkCwRIK-pQnSiK6VIzp0C/s200/th_tribe.jpg" width="160px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQt5efyhIcyyjGzSPlApefjoeokpuOiRGDCmjYW3gykWb2dvt73nUkxmhYeZ_F_ZvwxOUtmQWbnWd4zS_kHV_yMFjJEhqSuVOKaD2GntpUokPNyO-it4HQQg0wh1ZUqGQs-XcWH7KKCt7H/s1600/th_Warren-G.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQt5efyhIcyyjGzSPlApefjoeokpuOiRGDCmjYW3gykWb2dvt73nUkxmhYeZ_F_ZvwxOUtmQWbnWd4zS_kHV_yMFjJEhqSuVOKaD2GntpUokPNyO-it4HQQg0wh1ZUqGQs-XcWH7KKCt7H/s320/th_Warren-G.jpg" width="160px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYJurRbcoGyXJhAeqlvwUuHc3OLE78hKYDSl8EiBOJq_la8xWSmzzQEHKVEnfLw8HS99llYCT81dzwIr6Yt146gLTr-BFryKvcUGJzKg9lKtWrQAIwITbblv9kbif1EvlCg9rr0wZENWL/s1600/th_thugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYJurRbcoGyXJhAeqlvwUuHc3OLE78hKYDSl8EiBOJq_la8xWSmzzQEHKVEnfLw8HS99llYCT81dzwIr6Yt146gLTr-BFryKvcUGJzKg9lKtWrQAIwITbblv9kbif1EvlCg9rr0wZENWL/s200/th_thugs.jpg" width="160px" /></a></div><br />
Summers were filled with the sounds of Warren G & Nate Dogg, House of Pain, Snoop, Bone Thugz, Will Smith, and so many more! It was a fun time for music!<br />
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So when I hear MY music playing on an "Oldies Hour" on the radio I'm all like "HUH?!" When did that happen? Those aren't oldies?! Oldies are Marvin Gaye, Aretha, Stevie Wonder, Earth Wind & Fire. NOT Arrested Development and Biggie! Someone MUST have their information wrong. I mean who's running the show at these radio stations? 12 year olds?<br />
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So is that it? Is it official? Are we old because the music WE grew up on (which is still amazing!) is considered the oldies? I can't submit to this idea. So I'm taking my Tevin Campbell CD and I'm leaving!The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-70755340564033016272011-07-06T10:05:00.000-07:002011-07-06T10:05:01.325-07:00How Much Is That Fatty In The Window?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJQp7f9Mja5_aq_4L6wcTcHH7AqOdCiLQSKnSBxXGaD5XLBYWtn9LYD01Rh0lRQGJ3tDiyG65dPsl6D2zPElLOHXjkTKyeP1VxUymNLS_KrUT2bmmXV_aZaHFAcNNgq_fkd9RKYeixOPE/s1600/skinnymirror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJQp7f9Mja5_aq_4L6wcTcHH7AqOdCiLQSKnSBxXGaD5XLBYWtn9LYD01Rh0lRQGJ3tDiyG65dPsl6D2zPElLOHXjkTKyeP1VxUymNLS_KrUT2bmmXV_aZaHFAcNNgq_fkd9RKYeixOPE/s320/skinnymirror.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I think I have reverse body dismorphia. To be exact, I think I look better than I really do. We can also refer to this as "The Jersey Shore Syndrome".<br />
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When people suffer from actual <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Body_dysmorphic_disorder">body dismorphia</a> they hyper focus on one or more specific things about their body that drive them to think they aren't good enough or pretty enough. Then they work endlessly to fix this issue even if it only exists in their heads. <br />
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Me? Well, lately when I look in my skinny mirror (Women know this well. There are fat mirrors & skinny mirrors) I feel good about my post baby body! I've dropped a few pounds, my clothes are a little less snug and I feel like a damned super model! I'm still curvy. Always have been and always will be. I always say I'm not an hour glass figure, I'm more of an hour and a half to two hours. My man loves me curvy so when I look in my skinny mirror I see one sexy beeotch!<br />
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Then reality sets in when I see a picture of myself. UGH! Who the hell is that hippo of a woman?! I pick apart the picture. Flabby arms, jello thighs, jiggly belly, and is that a double chin? Oh hell no! That all must be photo shopped! That simply can't be the same beautiful woman in my skinny mirror!<br />
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So I have amped up my super model skills. Mommies, you may already know them well but if not here are a few new moves for taking pictures. <br />
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1) Strategically place small family members (a.k.a. the kids) in front of you as though you want them to be the star of this family photo. But in reality you are hiding your rolly polly pudge.<br />
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2) To reduce the double chin appearance suction the back of your tongue to the roof of your mouth. This will lift your second chin just long enough to take that shot!<br />
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3) Stand up. ALWAYS stand up! Taking photos of yourself in the sitting position will send you into a manic depression where you consume all chocolate within your reach.<br />
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4) When taking pictures with your husband, have him wrap his arms around you from BEHIND. Pictures where he is embracing you face to face show just how much work it takes for him to get his arms around you.<br />
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5) Make it a priority to have your arms hidden behind you whenever possible. A hand on the hip with elbow pointing backwards is a classic pose.<br />
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Despite the reality of my post baby body I am still proud of it. It gave me my sweet baby boy. And I am fortunate enough to have a man who loves some meat on his lady! I'll close with this saying my husband lives by:<br />
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"Women weren't meant to slip through a man's fingers....but they weren't made to break his arms either!"<br />
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Thanks baby! I love you! Now go make me a sammich!The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-24044981217858442162011-07-02T17:31:00.000-07:002011-07-02T17:31:17.569-07:00Demons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZorZuUGH0BuhVq2yWTpRcN9dVK8aaJEW-gXm4xPPfqWc-M6vl_vvMirmGxrZ_ab0RfjRKU8rnB8JrMUrwvbT4jv3s3L2SqOFkTadGcDd6Xm5P2sMeGaX1_WKbVXR-2YBAFiEafUQONnd/s1600/sadness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZorZuUGH0BuhVq2yWTpRcN9dVK8aaJEW-gXm4xPPfqWc-M6vl_vvMirmGxrZ_ab0RfjRKU8rnB8JrMUrwvbT4jv3s3L2SqOFkTadGcDd6Xm5P2sMeGaX1_WKbVXR-2YBAFiEafUQONnd/s320/sadness.jpg" width="156px" /></a></div><br />
I have three amazing boys. I love them unconditionally regardless of what they do. <br />
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My boys are 15, 4, and almost 10 months. There is a reason the first two are 11 years apart.<br />
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My oldest is a good boy with an amazing heart. He also has Absant Seizures and ADHD. Absant Seizures are seizures of the brain. Meaning that my son didn't have physical signs of the seizures since it was just his brain that was seizing for many, many years. So for years, we had no idea that there were physical causes for my son's behavior. He was impulsive, angry, energetic, and had trouble in social settings or while under the care of anyone outside of our house hold. He required structure and if anything in his little world changed we braced ourselves for the fall out.<br />
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Over the years numerous day cares and schools worked closely with us to try and figure out what was driving these issues. I am thankful to each of these places for not giving up on him. My husband and I worked day and night to try to teach him the steps to making better decisions, control his impulsivity, and be a better self manager. And he made great progress. But when he had an episode it was horrible. I remember sitting on the edge of my bed crying my eyes out and telling my husband "We can't have any more children because we fucked this one up so bad!". That may sound irrational to many but when it's YOUR kid and you just can't figure it out, YOU take the blame. YOU shoulder the guilt and burden of each thing he does.<br />
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I need to clarify that he wasn't a monster child. I would say to people that 90% of the time he was the most amazing, funny, happy, loving kid you would meet. It was just the 10% that people never forgot. I think that's what caught people off guard when he'd act up. They just couldn't understand where it was coming from. This wasn't the sweet boy they knew.<br />
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Well many tears, lots of doctor's appointments, a couple of therapy sessions, and a whole lot of tests later we got closer to taming the beast when he was diagnosed with the seizures. At the time of diagnosis he was enduring upwards of 20 seizures a day and who knows how many at night. That must have been exhausting for him. He got to the point, at about age 8, where when he had a seizure his eyes would slant shut and he'd just check out for a minute. He'd been doing this for years, in a subtler form, and we just thought he was shooting us dirty looks. We called them the snake eyes. Once we got his seizures diagnosed and he was on steady medication for that, the behavior greatly improved and we exhaled thinking this was what was causing him to act up all those years! But while the behavior got better, he still had a few severe episodes and was ultimately diagnosed with ADHD as well. <br />
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The two conditions had been fighting each other for years. For years I cried thinking I had done something wrong. For years I carried the burden of believing I was a horrible mother. For years I felt the eyes of the people around me as they judged my child. For years my poor son probably couldn't understand why he couldn't just act right. So now that we had answers we could fix it. <br />
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For several years now my son has been on the right medications to control both issues and is finally the kid he is meant to be. I am happy for him. But I still carry the demons. I still feel the effects of the years of judgement and the feelings of inadequacy as a parent. I still hold my breath and wait for that phone call that he's hurt someone or himself. I wonder if our other two boys will suffer the same fate. Most of the time I can talk myself down and know that we are great parents who trudged through the muck of parenthood and came out the other side. That he is a good kid going through normal kid stuff now. But then there are the other times. When he has a bad day and gets angry or moody. I question him, me, the meds, his hormones. I go into that old problem solving mode where there's a reason for this and I need to fix it before it's too late and he ruins his life. I have a hard time differentiating between an ADHD episode and a regular old teen mood swing. <br />
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This is my scar. I am a different kind of mother because of what we have gone through. I don't have the luxury of saying "He's just a boy." or "You know teenagers." No. I have to wonder if everyone around me is looking at me like I have failed him. I have to hope and pray that he will be a good person and a successful adult despite the things he had gone through. I carry the blame despite the cause. This is what mothers do. And until you have been in these shoes, you don't really know just how much it hurts. <br />
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I don't know if I will carry these demons forever or just until he turns 18. I don't know if these demons will continue to make me question myself until all of my children are grown. But I know that they are here each day. The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-74355324972939456842011-06-25T13:53:00.000-07:002011-06-25T13:53:24.730-07:00Martinis At Naptime<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNFInVfz4h7oOh10kYTDJZbzDcz0ZIRNeBuBAirA-H1Cx1lEFnDSU5VxCnXW1bD2KIzX3u2K3yhpsdoy75qI66sI4IHhcGXb_o7Z_gqFVtnoSsy_2QdsHmva1Rxb6t_9rePtznNbIm_8u/s1600/Header.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNFInVfz4h7oOh10kYTDJZbzDcz0ZIRNeBuBAirA-H1Cx1lEFnDSU5VxCnXW1bD2KIzX3u2K3yhpsdoy75qI66sI4IHhcGXb_o7Z_gqFVtnoSsy_2QdsHmva1Rxb6t_9rePtznNbIm_8u/s320/Header.jpg" width="120px" /></a></div>Once upon a time in a reality far, far away mommies would anxiously await nap time each day. As they laid their sweet little darlings down for their daily bout of rest, mommy would smile. But it wasn't because their babies looked like angels in their beds. No. It was because now, after hours of putting her husband, children, laundry, PTA duties, and house cleaning ahead of her needs.... it was finally martini time! Yes, after laying her sweet angel's head on their pillow and tip toeing quietly out of the room, mom would make haste over to the wet bar in the family room and mix up a shaker full of sweet, sweet gin or vodka relaxation. Quite often this would be mom's only moment in the day where she had time for herself. Her roll in the house was to attend, quietly & subserviently, to the needs of her husband and children without so much as the blink of an eye. From sunrise to sunset she was busy flittering about her home creating the perfect vision of domestic bliss for her family. Not once thinking of herself. So, rightfully so, nap time was hers. And so she'd hunker down, light a cigarette, and enjoy her mid day cocktail in silence.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNVLSbrYcOavklWfMBNK1Q2n2RL6_1Oy5ZlJdJbe-ZuuDzEKR1_-T_GtW2NtTdd63-nFLfjYb-iSMvDuLT1thBosPenpzAYynX10WP4z7ZClRVgIENUEmRUu0A0B5yfggRI-kMA7mSEvP/s1600/2nd+paragraph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNVLSbrYcOavklWfMBNK1Q2n2RL6_1Oy5ZlJdJbe-ZuuDzEKR1_-T_GtW2NtTdd63-nFLfjYb-iSMvDuLT1thBosPenpzAYynX10WP4z7ZClRVgIENUEmRUu0A0B5yfggRI-kMA7mSEvP/s320/2nd+paragraph.jpg" width="107px" /></a></div>Skip to 2011. IF mom is lucky enough to stay home with her kids the domestic bliss of yesteryear are long gone. The house is chaos from sunrise to sunset. The kids are running & screaming, the dog has eaten and thrown up something on the carpet, The Wiggles are grating on your last nerve, you are way behind on your blog because you can't- for the life of you- get the kids to nap at the same time, the martinis have all been replaced by copious amounts of coffee and the odd Red Bull, you are lucky if you got a shower today, and your husband better drive through KFC on the way home because you forgot to pull the chicken out of the freezer yesterday and YOU ARE READY TO SCREAM!<br />
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So which vision of motherhood is ideal? Which mom had it best?<br />
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While on the outside the 50's housewife seemed to have it all under control, on the inside she was screaming. She was never really her own person. She was thriving to fit the images in her women's magazines of perfectly coiffed ladies pulling roasts out of the oven as the children played quietly and her husband read a newspaper and smoked his pipe. That bitch NEEDED her nap time martini! More often than not it was the only moment in her day that belonged to her. <br />
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So while it may seem she had things perfected to a T, let's examine today's mom and the advantages we have.<br />
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<strong><u>Rise and shine!</u></strong> <br />
The 50's house wife no doubt had to wake up an hour before her family to shower, do her hair and press her dress so that she looked lovely for her husband when she went to wake him. She gets the older children dressed and ready for the bus while making a 4 star breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fresh squeezed orange juice. After serving breakfast, she hands her husband his briefcase and kisses him gently on the cheek and sends him off to work. Now it's time to shuffle the children onto the bus, baby on her hip, looking bright eyed and bushy tailed. She waves to the bus as it pulls away and heads back into the house to begin her day!<br />
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The modern housewife slams her hand down on the alarm and tells it to fuck off. Then she punches her husband in the should to signal him that it's time to wake the hell up. She pulls herself out of bed and throws on the cleanest pair of sweats she can find on the ground. She heads to the kitchen because she doesn't even want to see the kids until her coffee is made. Once coffee is made she wakes the little monsters. She pulls a somewhat matching outfit out of the closet and tosses it on their beds and tells them breakfast is in five. Back to the kitchen she goes to make breakfast. But what will it be? Pop Tarts? Frozen Waffles? Lucky Charms? Pop Tarts win because mama's tired after being up late chatting on Twitter. The kids come screaming into the kitchen and sit at the table to scarf down their Pop Tarts and Sunny D. Mom is leaned up against the counter drinking her breakfast (coffee) and hoping the baby doesn't wake up until after the kids are on the bus. Dad darts through the kitchen tossing Pop Tarts in his brief case and filling his travel mug with coffee before running out the door. Mom glances out the window and sees the bus making its way down the street. "Dammit! Kids let's go!" Mom throws a couple bucks in each of the kids back packs for lunch and tells them to hurry up or they'll miss the bus. She slams the door after them and watches out the window hoping they make it so she won't have to drive them to school. YES! They're on the bus! Morning success! Now for round two.<br />
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<strong><u>The Days Of Our Lives.</u></strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwg8lFEgSB8lmPPdIkbjSw6cLP_gz0QMZUzxCJmdQgwdgkRWe-2VMrGWvmbjSwBk83-cXMORMxe79sli1PC35H6vvQeDQ1Hx0JZ4NdY8efdzX9v70d21m_UWpAeasH2CG854ZW3IPhXY6M/s1600/1st+paragraph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwg8lFEgSB8lmPPdIkbjSw6cLP_gz0QMZUzxCJmdQgwdgkRWe-2VMrGWvmbjSwBk83-cXMORMxe79sli1PC35H6vvQeDQ1Hx0JZ4NdY8efdzX9v70d21m_UWpAeasH2CG854ZW3IPhXY6M/s320/1st+paragraph.jpg" width="143px" /></a></div>The 50's housewife spends her day cleaning, folding, shopping, and cooking in a graceful manner without breaking a sweat. Her children are angels who play quietly while mom handles her duties. Aren't they the sweetest? And just like clock work, they go down for a nap at the same tie each day leaving mommy an hour to sip her ice cold martini and recharge her batteries.<br />
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The modern housewife's day is just a bit different. She still hasn't showered by the time the kids have left for school and now the baby is awake. So she pulls the exersaucer into the bathroom and hops in the shower to hose herself down super quick. Of course the baby gets bored in 2.5 minutes which reduces mom's shower time in half. Once her "shower" is done she leaves baby in the exersaucer, rocking the base with her foot while juggling the brush and blow dryer. She slaps on some make up and some (semi)clean clothes. Now it's time to feed baby so you plop him in the high chair and pour some Cheerios and Puffs on the tray so you can gather the dirty clothes from EVERY ROOM IN THE HOUSE. Because heaven forbid anyone place their clothes in the hamper. Once mom has a load in the laundry it's time to pick up around this pig sty but baby has different ideas. He's blown out his diaper and painted the tray of his high chair with the contents. Awesome. Before mom cleans it up, she takes a picture and Tweets it because her Twitter moms "get it". It's bath time for baby which causes her to run late to drop off snacks for her daughter's kindergarten class. After dropping off snacks she runs errands. It's time to pick up her husband's dry cleaning, drop off over due library books, hit the gym- hahahahahaha just kidding!- pick up more formula, order balloons for the birthday party this weekend, get an oil change for the mini-van, Gymboree classes with the baby are next, swing a box of baby clothes you don't need any more off at a friend's house, and grab some fabric from the craft store. The baby slept in the car so there's clearly no martini at nap time. Now it's back to the house because the school bus will be dropping the kids off any minute. You pull in just as the bus is arriving. Sweet. Once inside the house you realize you forgot to pull that damned chicken out of the freezer for dinner so you text the hubby to pick up some KFC then tell the kids to get to the table to do homework. The fighting between the kids started almost instantly. "He took my pencil!" followed by "She's looking at me!" completed by "I hate you!". Ugh. Just shut up and do your homework! You still haven't offered up your version of cleaning the house yet and you really don't have time for this. Stop to Tweet how the kids are driving you bonkers. Then grab some crap off the floor and toss it in their rooms. When will this day end?!<br />
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<strong><u>Honey! I'm Home!</u></strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCNRCDYFvOcTK6JqzYNsub-nWrXJcvKGFtZ39hc7fbcigk8wPYvJDfkYnjATKUoE1yIYaKtLuapKyWkpuvSQSOizLcEEt0ZamMpvUSpKQ76TJbslbqzA0rb431XdzU1KzuZqPci06cBxI/s1600/Daddy%2527s+Home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCNRCDYFvOcTK6JqzYNsub-nWrXJcvKGFtZ39hc7fbcigk8wPYvJDfkYnjATKUoE1yIYaKtLuapKyWkpuvSQSOizLcEEt0ZamMpvUSpKQ76TJbslbqzA0rb431XdzU1KzuZqPci06cBxI/s320/Daddy%2527s+Home.jpg" width="160px" /></a></div>The 50's Housewife has had a productive day and the house is pristine when her husband arrives home from work. The kids are quietly reading which allows mom to take daddy's briefcase, offer him his slippers and pipe, and give him a moment to relax after a hard day at work while she plates dinner. Dinner is a magnificent feast of succulent pot roast, roasted veggies, and a crisp salad with home made dressing and glasses of ice cold milk. Everyone washes their hands and arrives at the table. Prayers are said and the meal is consumed while the family listens to daddy talk about all of his accomplishments at work that day. He's our hero isn't he!<br />
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By the time her husband arrives home from work, the modern housewife kisses her husband and hands him the baby as soon as he plops the KFC on the counter and tells him she needs a break because these kids are driving her up a wall. "What about dinner?" dad asks, baby dangling off his hip. With one glare from mom he understands that dinner will wait. Mom heads to her room and flops onto the bed and pulls out her iPhone. It's time to catch up on her Tweets. But 5 minutes in, the kids are fighting again. She heads out to find out why dad isn't handling it wherein she finds she's lost him to ESPN. REALLY? After a frank "discussion" about this mess it's time to slap some KFC on some paper plates and feed the family. This modern family sits around the table chatting about their dad. The kids boast about what they did at school. Mom vents about what a busy day she had and Dad talks about the deal he closed and how glad he is to be home with his family.<br />
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<strong><u>Nighty Night!</u></strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUO97JNhass6kVKgxvZ_duirRgjpcBak_dDLg0IdEhdEnYwKsfeRMziJgJSI3ji1OBB7_MKlCnZyQyB4bR9mWDKRKmgHqjOJ5QxGPavhR_dt60Y1Zr-bxZLTuY1Vgpo66_RiCtZpwrFax/s1600/Nightime.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUO97JNhass6kVKgxvZ_duirRgjpcBak_dDLg0IdEhdEnYwKsfeRMziJgJSI3ji1OBB7_MKlCnZyQyB4bR9mWDKRKmgHqjOJ5QxGPavhR_dt60Y1Zr-bxZLTuY1Vgpo66_RiCtZpwrFax/s320/Nightime.jpg" width="108px" /></a></div>Night time has rolled around for our 50's housewife. She dresses the children in their night gowns, brushes their teeth, and tucks them into bed. Prayers are said, kisses are placed lovingly upon their heads and the lights are turned down. Mommy now heads in to her dressing room to change into something sheer for hubby. They enjoy some "alone" time. Husband is happy and drifts off to sleep. Mommy rolls over and cries herself to sleep. Another day has gone by. Exactly like the day before.<br />
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After dinner dishes are <strike>thrown away</strike> cleared mom and dad split bed time duties. Mom takes the baby, changing him into jammies and offering him a bed time bottle while rocking him off to sleep. Dad gets the big kids in their pajamas, brushes their teeth, and reads them stories. Dad knows better than to leave the kids alone in the room before they're asleep so so thwart any fights he lays down with them and before you know it he's asleep with them. Mom places baby into his crib and wakes dad to sneak him out of the kids' room. It's been a week since mommy and daddy had relations and dad has that spark in his eye! But mom's had a busy day and just want sto catch up on her blog. So they compromise. They decide that he'll play Xbox for an hour so she can blog and they'll meet back in the bedroom in one hour. When the hour is up, dad has finished level 5 of his game, mom has finished a blog and caught up on Tweets, and it's time to rock and roll! It's more about quality then quantity now adays so the tow make it count and then fall asleep in each other's arms. Who knows what tomorrow will bring!<br />
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So while it may appear that the 50's housewife had it all and that the modern housewife's days are far more chaotic, I'll take my modern day family any day! My husband is my partner and my best friend. I have a voice through my blogs and Tweets that my 50's counterpart didn't get the privilege to have. My days change every day and I never know what's going to to happen next. My kids are crazy and out of control but that is there personality and we embrace it. I may not get my martini at nap time, but I get my happy hour with my girls on Friday night. I may not be perfectly coiffed each day but my husband thinks I'm a hottie in my sweats. And each night I roll over and go to sleep happy about this life I have helped to build. Crazy and all.The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-91032694834948659182011-06-20T16:00:00.000-07:002011-06-20T16:00:35.657-07:00Queen For A Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQ4HDc7Ufj6anNKjnmkRaJWg6uFGupwFuxZAU5BlPd1qLxLuwpBmk24b7bAyAVV39F1_coZmzn34r6Z312bHAaOAMU-uK6uFSpxtb8FtayPhHtJPKJyLFjTMf3j-bAkNSnS5E0YTzS7lL/s1600/th_Queenfortheday.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="153" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQ4HDc7Ufj6anNKjnmkRaJWg6uFGupwFuxZAU5BlPd1qLxLuwpBmk24b7bAyAVV39F1_coZmzn34r6Z312bHAaOAMU-uK6uFSpxtb8FtayPhHtJPKJyLFjTMf3j-bAkNSnS5E0YTzS7lL/s320/th_Queenfortheday.gif" /></a></div><br />
Yesterday was Father's Day. My husband had to work so the kids and I spent the day cleaning, shopping, filling out cards, and wrapping the hand made gifts we had made for our hero- DAD! When my husband got home we presented his favorite meal, he opened cards & gifts, and we played baord games. It was a great Father's Day for my hubby!<br />
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But I couldn't help but think of that episode of The Middle where it shows the REAL difference between Mother's Day & Fathher's Day. On Mother's Day mom doesn't get to sleep in (the kids need her), breafast in bed is a sloppy mess (as is the kitchen but don't worry- mom will clean it), the kids still fight, the dog still barks, dad still watches the game. But there's cards and gifts and that makes it Mother's Day.<br />
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Father's Day on the other hand is usually a day of relaxation and adoration for the man who heads our house hold. Why does he get this peace & relaxation? Because mom is there to plan Father's Day!<br />
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Don't get me wrong. My husband is a shining example of husbandry and works diligently to ensure Mother's Day is better than the average day at our house. But there is a difference between the two days that is noticable. For sure.<br />
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Therefore today I told my husband I needed a break. And I took one. My husband always encourages me to take time to myself but I end up filling my days with kids, housework, and all the other things that "can't wait". So really It's my fault that I never get the time I desprately want. Isn't that what we do as moms? Come on. You know you're guilty too! We all talk about wanting a day- just one freakin' day- to ourselves. But do we even know what that day looks like? Here's a few things that would make a nice day for this mom if i were Queen For A Day:<br />
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1)I'd only say things once. All day. Not a single repeat.<br />
2) I'd go to the bathroom without a single inturruption. With the door closed!<br />
3) I'd be the first person to eat at dinner and my food would still be warm.<br />
4) I'd go grocery shopping without the kids and it would take a mere fraction of the time!<br />
5) No one would whine at me all day. Not a single teen, toddler, baby, husband or pet. ALL day.<br />
6) I'd get a paycheck for the work I do as a stay at home mom. And it would have lots of zeros on it ;0)<br />
7) I'd sleep a full 8 hours in a bed that is only occupied by myself and my husband and I'd wake up whenever my body felt like it.<br />
8) I'd go to the gym without packing up 4 other people, checking them into child care, and then I'd work out as long as I want- not until my time limit was up in the day care. Then I'd sit in the steam room without looking at my watch.<br />
9) The only crying that would take place would be me- crying as I watch a chick flick of my choice.<br />
10) I'd take a nice walk with my family- and no one's leg would fall off, no one would die of exhaustion, and no one would need a drink of water.<br />
11) The only ass I would be responsible for cleaning would be my own.<br />
12) My teen would kiss me in public and declare his love for me (Okay. That one may just be a pipe dream).<br />
13) I'd go on a date with my husband where we'd have energy to see the late showing of the movie and then still "stay up" when we got home.<br />
14) My car would stay clean on the inside all day.<br />
15) All 3 of the kids would take a two hour nap in the middle of the day so I could sit on the back deck and write.<br />
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These are the plain and simple ways this mom would be happy. There's nothing fancy like "Dwayne The Rock Johnson would apply my lotion after my shower" although I'm willing to re-work the list if you think we can work that in. The list is just simple little things I dream of each day. But alas, as a mom I have forfeited these items into the world of parenthood. <br />
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I love my life more than words can express. But the life of a mom is a different one. A complicated one. A selfless and exhasting one. And I wouldn't have it any other way. But a girl can dream right? So what's on your list if you were Queen For A Day?The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-77094544475142417732011-05-30T23:02:00.000-07:002011-05-30T23:02:16.867-07:00Oh Happy Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3SDz_Mg6g4KiDLyxac_xa7xnwoyoJSv244448gRemp29iCEIrsHv_MAWahsg5xO1UDBXtXNkdESVHrQqnBcRQYMKCAeBdI0Rnlfm7UOgyciyFUKi1ENfn0pgpV3U6G-p0srcG9pzHwa43/s1600/Yard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3SDz_Mg6g4KiDLyxac_xa7xnwoyoJSv244448gRemp29iCEIrsHv_MAWahsg5xO1UDBXtXNkdESVHrQqnBcRQYMKCAeBdI0Rnlfm7UOgyciyFUKi1ENfn0pgpV3U6G-p0srcG9pzHwa43/s320/Yard.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Today was amazing. Today was Memorial Day and much like many of you, we had a BBQ to celebrate the day. But it was so much more for me than just a BBQ. It was one of the best days I've had in over a year. Nothing fancy happened. Nothing big and spectacular. But it was amazing none the less.<br />
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I kind of got the idea to have a BBQ late last night. So last minute I invited my sister (& her 4 kids) and my bestie (& her 2 kids) over. I invited my other besties too but they already made plans. But that's okay. There was no shoratge of kids with there being 9 between all of us!<br />
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Since everything was planned last minute there was quite a bit to do. Cleaning, shopping (the two little ones and I took a walk to the store to do our shopping), prepping, and even some yard work! Last year our yard turned into a nightmare. On the list of my husband's priorities taking care of me on bed rest was waaaaay up high...and yard work was waaaaaaay down low. We've been working hard so far this spring to reclaim the front yard and it is looking great if I do say so. But the back yard is a different story. So I set to work cleaning off lawn chairs, pulling weeds, sweeping cob webs off the play ground, and cleaning the grill while the hubby & our 15 year old mowed the lawns and worked on the shed. The 4 year old ran around and played while baby kept me company in the exersaucer. Am I losing you? Hang in there. There's a point to all this.<br />
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After hours of work my sister and best friend showed up. We busted out the lawn toys (frisbie, horse shoe, lawn hockey, etc.) and the chalk (for drawing all over the play ground) and turned the kids loose while we started making dinner. My husband & oldest son were busy building the tool shed so it was up to us chicks to build fire and cook meat. After dinner we all gathered around the fire pit and made s'mores. As the sun went down we adorned the kids with glow necklaces and watched them dance around.<br />
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I flittered about in almost constant motion juggling the grill, the kids, & my guests all with a baby on my hip. You should have seen me! The energy was endless! This exact thing was what I dreamed of for 23 long weeks last year. I craved busy. I longed for hectic. I desired a full schedule. So now when I was a full day I am just so grateful! I have no desire to complain. I understanbd what a gift it all is. <br />
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Today I soaked in the smiles of all of the kids as they ran around the yard, hopped all over the play set, and shoved gooey s'mores in their faces. And I was there for it! I remember last year sitting in a chair looking out my bedroom window just so I could watch my kids play outside. Now I get to join them. I got to serve my friends and cook for them instead of them taking care of me. It was all just an amazing and beautiful gift!<br />
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See, nothing spectacular. Just a BBQ like anyone else would have. But for me it was amazing. It was normal. It was just like we used to do before our world changed forever last year. And it felt so good.The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6063988631094663020.post-68171834182928629122011-05-27T14:33:00.000-07:002011-05-27T14:33:45.089-07:00When You Live With Boys...As we all know, I am the undisputed Queen of my castle. I am married to a man and have 3 sons. There is no wondering where my favorite sweater or my make up went, no fighting for bathroom counter space, no talks about tampons vs. pads, no syncing of menstral cycles, and no eye rolling and huffing to accompany a flip of the hair and a "Whatever mom". Yes. Raising boys can be bliss!<br />
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Then there are the other things. The things you DO have to live with and learn to accept (or fight forever against)when all of the other people in your house have penises.<br />
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1) You will be the ONLY person in the house who knows how to change a roll of toilette paper. Regardless of the reminders.<br />
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2) Your sink will be hairy. Always hairy. Little tiny hairs....<br />
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3) There will always be a rediculously hungry child standing & staring at the fridge complaining that there's nothing to eat.<br />
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4) The base of your toilette will always be yellow. Regarldess of the age of your boys.<br />
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5) You will always need a band aide and will never be able to find one.<br />
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6) You will forever be subjected to stepping on Leggo pieces, Hot Wheels, and Bionicles.<br />
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7) The recycleables will never make their way into the recycle bin. Even though the bin is right next to the counter where the recycleables are left.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5KqpOGJWUaMrFQjePmLvHN0CGXzfHDkWqzP7QC7fLFqOWRtfuVFmnkRAOkfspt4GWfyY2PJksQrbwoJiQWz1zME96ORZZmOBDTqIhxkK1k9yrPBMXLCLQuDFMSAO5v5QjnVHALZBNqYO/s1600/recycle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="120" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5KqpOGJWUaMrFQjePmLvHN0CGXzfHDkWqzP7QC7fLFqOWRtfuVFmnkRAOkfspt4GWfyY2PJksQrbwoJiQWz1zME96ORZZmOBDTqIhxkK1k9yrPBMXLCLQuDFMSAO5v5QjnVHALZBNqYO/s320/recycle.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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8) There will always be a mysterious smell.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwqapWAk2jiudbkCPf2gIE5OulVdLOWNDCJAWt5VI4F7b_iy2D3jy8snm4KRg95pZDheMnE24xPj344WTIlJ19Jvcn8XvP7NY3Xm_uUW9f4bRZ5ugCrwiMflaYxIx1nioS1IfMgx7P3dd1/s1600/smell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwqapWAk2jiudbkCPf2gIE5OulVdLOWNDCJAWt5VI4F7b_iy2D3jy8snm4KRg95pZDheMnE24xPj344WTIlJ19Jvcn8XvP7NY3Xm_uUW9f4bRZ5ugCrwiMflaYxIx1nioS1IfMgx7P3dd1/s320/smell.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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9) Underwear will be considered suitable house attire.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3C0IfiHK_tgBrWmoIZt7l3eBTGUmX2rUBS_fg8sFgGPWx4H4Dupa1ic2IDS1MpkSdiX530tAg1Lk1jPXTKLpQGXwG4z2XeKIKMhfs7sevF_rl1rHaySYhyV-YMLLJ_SHFkOi4oqvhLvF3/s1600/underoos.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="101" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3C0IfiHK_tgBrWmoIZt7l3eBTGUmX2rUBS_fg8sFgGPWx4H4Dupa1ic2IDS1MpkSdiX530tAg1Lk1jPXTKLpQGXwG4z2XeKIKMhfs7sevF_rl1rHaySYhyV-YMLLJ_SHFkOi4oqvhLvF3/s320/underoos.png" /></a></div><br />
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10) Burps and farts will...be...funny. Period. At any age. Forever.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFEbNxU-O5v0kjKsc9CBbZhZoFcJX4LLNt-dT7mnwx_3_2vhdOwuccvYm01sPM_Du9d0oizCmoPRtjOr9V9QWV16d-B4EukJhi4i7_ubW4BPLFPj1HKqsLcFHA7GLU4ipywNyUm1-4blV/s1600/farts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="252" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFEbNxU-O5v0kjKsc9CBbZhZoFcJX4LLNt-dT7mnwx_3_2vhdOwuccvYm01sPM_Du9d0oizCmoPRtjOr9V9QWV16d-B4EukJhi4i7_ubW4BPLFPj1HKqsLcFHA7GLU4ipywNyUm1-4blV/s320/farts.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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11)From an early age and until the day they die, your boys will be fascinated with their penises.<br />
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<b>**Just can't add a picture for this one. Sorry folks!**<i></i></b><br />
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12) Bed Time = Wrestlemania time.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuEXYPpeaLWVLwyFIhVQqfzAN3norGYc1DMLJvubyDozAMHkSQy65tPBM6vlv74vXEVT5iHkTZYn8zI4lMMWfPPYisEZol6xm1yW30s4FypvY9r6sq5_aQpE6JbQhKPXr6eO9BccW3kKE6/s1600/wrestling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuEXYPpeaLWVLwyFIhVQqfzAN3norGYc1DMLJvubyDozAMHkSQy65tPBM6vlv74vXEVT5iHkTZYn8zI4lMMWfPPYisEZol6xm1yW30s4FypvY9r6sq5_aQpE6JbQhKPXr6eO9BccW3kKE6/s320/wrestling.jpg" /></a></div><br />
13) You will need the highest amount of home owners/renters insurance available.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJUlD0PyIUP-mxpsXyxUI70a4Ed12sKrbQoUaL2Z0xq5ojdPeEldmhtCkM15_7TJPEb0aalkEco_42q_V_HvR63mYgUMOSrGu8v_5Yr26Wt2VgkHIXVZStSH1zBDkCjxEJoiJznOz7aKP/s1600/bad+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="120" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJUlD0PyIUP-mxpsXyxUI70a4Ed12sKrbQoUaL2Z0xq5ojdPeEldmhtCkM15_7TJPEb0aalkEco_42q_V_HvR63mYgUMOSrGu8v_5Yr26Wt2VgkHIXVZStSH1zBDkCjxEJoiJznOz7aKP/s320/bad+kids.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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14) You know that thing where regardless of how many times you say it, it's not a good idea until your husband thinks he thought of it? Yeah. Well, it applies to teen boys too.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bNjbK8mHs3aLYUdS8sZkVmWQmeLDjzs9YxKllrHjoT82LakG9eQbyV9Ktnkef6sSSFVgQd-yk0f9YguV2GLhIpJSn-r1g0FzUXEhupa7vh5YqjbUwd5-UR74-BXU-YgnBz8FwwWlqLSX/s1600/smart+teens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="255" width="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bNjbK8mHs3aLYUdS8sZkVmWQmeLDjzs9YxKllrHjoT82LakG9eQbyV9Ktnkef6sSSFVgQd-yk0f9YguV2GLhIpJSn-r1g0FzUXEhupa7vh5YqjbUwd5-UR74-BXU-YgnBz8FwwWlqLSX/s320/smart+teens.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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15) Teaching your boys to do laundry WILL coincide with puberty. Ick.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDramrd1pPiJWYQJo7rCNE61SFEnGrWxPwIrCpgT7cbzyjC-p0ZZtahcdhxw6Uc-SnfBReVO4-pMJE7r0T6mGjL-rC2KRdqYtKpwFek_T7tRa05PCJHGw-SCcP7fOZKQUonXsR8uFz4vP/s1600/Laundry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="110" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDramrd1pPiJWYQJo7rCNE61SFEnGrWxPwIrCpgT7cbzyjC-p0ZZtahcdhxw6Uc-SnfBReVO4-pMJE7r0T6mGjL-rC2KRdqYtKpwFek_T7tRa05PCJHGw-SCcP7fOZKQUonXsR8uFz4vP/s320/Laundry.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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16) "Are you freaking kidding me?!" will become a part of your regular vocabulary.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpSkJTvJu6IMk7Cr7pUASUuilsg62aZkFPNEn0cLvTyNOYpDTEjRM1dQvrPJfTlJjeJvaEVeiaV386EOXdjSbQvhB5sB5qn4ePeosy1KtJEh1zlibHl-yPoi_enZWdEJV2tooM7C7VnHqJ/s1600/freaking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="105" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpSkJTvJu6IMk7Cr7pUASUuilsg62aZkFPNEn0cLvTyNOYpDTEjRM1dQvrPJfTlJjeJvaEVeiaV386EOXdjSbQvhB5sB5qn4ePeosy1KtJEh1zlibHl-yPoi_enZWdEJV2tooM7C7VnHqJ/s320/freaking.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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17) From birth to age..who are we kidding- forever, your boys' nails will look like they're sporting black tip french manicures.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUqJYGj1IS21pm4MiYIqAON7FvuaWswoFUUUKaqm5SoUJKEZ7h-MxJaX7_ZDoKp0SDoDtojUKj8JFsOBa07drrRzF1WXeY9bZeXLbNmvYL9Z21eVYujnu9U0ROjqcdca3dwYunvgs_eurv/s1600/dirty+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="120" width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUqJYGj1IS21pm4MiYIqAON7FvuaWswoFUUUKaqm5SoUJKEZ7h-MxJaX7_ZDoKp0SDoDtojUKj8JFsOBa07drrRzF1WXeY9bZeXLbNmvYL9Z21eVYujnu9U0ROjqcdca3dwYunvgs_eurv/s320/dirty+hands.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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18) The word "no" is kinda a dare.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKr5BmJm-8yGBxBlDOvlI579nrWWSjqzYiLJyneWPm-FC_F3yrNkLtQLyHU_2pZSr4ShPORBAMyLYVGuubZE0IU57pCv9Q9t8JWnyq-4JFVQP8hOhC-S9PTmhaALHYH2zGxwPnWQDn0rC/s1600/no.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="100" width="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKr5BmJm-8yGBxBlDOvlI579nrWWSjqzYiLJyneWPm-FC_F3yrNkLtQLyHU_2pZSr4ShPORBAMyLYVGuubZE0IU57pCv9Q9t8JWnyq-4JFVQP8hOhC-S9PTmhaALHYH2zGxwPnWQDn0rC/s320/no.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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19) You will become a diaper quick changer.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhCmOCkrLG1-e3BYlwGKGOaP7z2XTW5CPj_O28xZNpYIuP71r_9o0dL6z8hM8Az4udV_v0uedcit1zXLe8wbZ8dYFPt5lkT5MwpgvWa0XcD3qevtr4cUVJd5J3MjMrrDkbKAp12C5MBTz/s1600/diaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhCmOCkrLG1-e3BYlwGKGOaP7z2XTW5CPj_O28xZNpYIuP71r_9o0dL6z8hM8Az4udV_v0uedcit1zXLe8wbZ8dYFPt5lkT5MwpgvWa0XcD3qevtr4cUVJd5J3MjMrrDkbKAp12C5MBTz/s320/diaper.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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20) You will be loved like the Queen you are!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGinWS2xQr3mfObOoXiqolqEKEqRQZ-pZx5fOtoxN_0kHoPRJ_ySX6r3LmnhQBWaTJH4NiiTN0Hy-IcKPhyRYYJuebiUkr39PwK9TmntOoofPzX32FINzKFmiDQpzlsywXPrakWyaRpWmo/s1600/Queen.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGinWS2xQr3mfObOoXiqolqEKEqRQZ-pZx5fOtoxN_0kHoPRJ_ySX6r3LmnhQBWaTJH4NiiTN0Hy-IcKPhyRYYJuebiUkr39PwK9TmntOoofPzX32FINzKFmiDQpzlsywXPrakWyaRpWmo/s320/Queen.JPG" /></a></div>The Good, The Bad, & The Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08241017938203744301noreply@blogger.com5