tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21684639285109251222024-02-21T02:15:18.085-05:00It's my life and I'll laugh if I want to<center>You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star. (Friedrich Nietzsche)</center>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-2393176256631720252011-10-27T11:47:00.011-04:002011-11-09T16:14:14.654-05:00#iPPP - Pumpkin Patch<div>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
Our visit to the Pumpkin Patch this year... </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Poor Ian (middle son, 3) was sick with a stomach bug the day he was supposed to visit the pumpkin patch w/his preschool class so we made it up to him w/a visit on Saturday. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
We got there a little early so we took off through the pumpkin patch to find the perfect one. While most of us were looking for something sort of specific, Bram (youngest son 18mths) wanted any pumpkin he could carry...and didn't want you to take any away from him. </div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QsTX2wG2IoSCNn-F7NFzflOK64w_FznjO_c_UyXmS7JEX61o-X8KUogIXb5jzFDxj58EGdXAGzed1-Qq6jELsE8OV3uMedsO1DUMkyBwpYcUir0pY4BpvpDhdziZMkR6t3cQEmX5Thws/s1600/2011-10-15_10-19-30_772.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668210790362326626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-QsTX2wG2IoSCNn-F7NFzflOK64w_FznjO_c_UyXmS7JEX61o-X8KUogIXb5jzFDxj58EGdXAGzed1-Qq6jELsE8OV3uMedsO1DUMkyBwpYcUir0pY4BpvpDhdziZMkR6t3cQEmX5Thws/s320/2011-10-15_10-19-30_772.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 180px;" /></a></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Luke (oldest son, 11) was the only one I could talk into stopping for a picture.</div>
<div>
<div align="left">
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668213150053813122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0CDeIHpQO06qvxNUCMSkOvwvw6YHCkzbPPWj_dxbR4z8uytHqnE9YSwju5V60RZ9PycNKsNHhn4N7fT-O82yezIV4RTZij8upzvMYyqseTbDmoummYmFo7V0GXWhVEcHHSNfHMOOBw82X/s320/2011-10-15_10-19-26_570.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 180px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></div>
<div align="left">
<br /></div>
<div align="left">
Ian then wanted his picture made... </div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668211344455602066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDljcGDINyJ7_fF0y1tYrkqg3GWQLvkb20QNK0f9yqIjjYWU918sR7fnzmWe8ycUC4Qdg8dhuI7h7ACr8Dv66_S2oW-ElOqMagq5gU0bRVBEqDtek8qjXxES3FVtw0Rm3TjrynucCsodOR/s320/2011-10-15_10-05-28_339.jpg" style="display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 182px;" /></div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
And I found these growing in the middle of the pumpkin patch...my favorite color.<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668211944611810114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5pIqVFJsX1myFCUyUUuPJNUIJstwAtWAfwlvnM_2lLEk9duGDoMZ0LChyS3_l5lmNIhoZszr4RG1oQ-Pw3_PZpOVlLobaL4x9St8FHAIpLwaVYFtdF1V7wuv7XbOHHMbQ-fKapT5oYhre/s320/2011-10-15_09-47-16_795.jpg" style="display: block; height: 180px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-39115616152484048082011-10-10T10:57:00.006-04:002011-10-10T11:22:49.304-04:00One of THOSE days....<div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;"><em><center>This is the first post I've made on this blog since 2008. A third son has joined our family since my previous post. I haven't blogged because I didn't want to blog, but because I haven't made the time to blog. If you're reading this, thank you for joining me on my journey to a new beginning. </center></em></span></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If you're a mom, I think you know what kind I'm referring to. The days where you can never seem to catch up. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After dropping the oldest off at school and the 3 year old to preschool, the youngest and I head to the grocery store. I can never seem to get it together enough to buy everything we need at one time, so it's off we go. As I'm putting up the groceries, Bram is eating yogurt. I open one cabinet and a wine glass falls out to crash to the counter and broken glass proceeds to scatter from one counter, to the stove, to the opposing counter and to the floor. Of course, as I'm cleaning up the glass, Bram throws his spoon and half full container of yogurt to the floor. As a mom to three boys, I can NEVER to keep caught up on cleaning. It is a constant 24/7 job. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And, of course, as I sit here to type this, the previous named 17mth old is no longer happily playing alone, but yelling for me.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ah...I love my life, but I do wish for a minute just for me sometimes. And then feel guilty for wishing for it.</span></div></div></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-41934157680317745882008-12-10T13:14:00.005-05:002008-12-10T13:25:59.522-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3U-QPGlp2L9rVD7jQ8JjOpY_6QAT7JCx1NXyQKSzjIfGzE_U5eZX7Ze6CGKhrigaypmL7iFu4J7JGi9dTGaTytsmrXxiDzLRLxck45q3GkPLg3GY48BHEUmFgGrxUm-bPfSWARm_d6YDq/s1600-h/DSCF0730.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278227647270867810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3U-QPGlp2L9rVD7jQ8JjOpY_6QAT7JCx1NXyQKSzjIfGzE_U5eZX7Ze6CGKhrigaypmL7iFu4J7JGi9dTGaTytsmrXxiDzLRLxck45q3GkPLg3GY48BHEUmFgGrxUm-bPfSWARm_d6YDq/s320/DSCF0730.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Trying to get a photo for Christmas cards this year isn't going to be easy....</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdF_E1FeJBpi7XBdF062MnFPXyqRFTBb5GwGz5bxS3M4_w1_aouIx5HtJv4nRfxe0E8zQ4X95hPyyqIXxx1zZabJQZWhsaCWOGoXh7O5JBlmwyfGJHtCHgePbNWWrWXwPOsx2bFKIpsLlA/s1600-h/DSCF0737.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278228233429538194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdF_E1FeJBpi7XBdF062MnFPXyqRFTBb5GwGz5bxS3M4_w1_aouIx5HtJv4nRfxe0E8zQ4X95hPyyqIXxx1zZabJQZWhsaCWOGoXh7O5JBlmwyfGJHtCHgePbNWWrWXwPOsx2bFKIpsLlA/s320/DSCF0737.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Not at all.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-18829237418363408692008-11-21T15:54:00.003-05:002008-11-21T15:59:53.260-05:00One Years Old!!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGy0Lw25VEwmhyphenhyphenwgS6h2i96m6yP4KP7BH9IQcFnS2LkAuctREpIFCU4gD6o3Q6syUrJLX3yHn6kxkaokq2M9zdZFGsfhJ5cmJUyZuQah6YZACkh6RmzpvG035ObIJn2zjldUGbEMfk9_y2/s1600-h/DSCF0634.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271218344830161170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 215px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGy0Lw25VEwmhyphenhyphenwgS6h2i96m6yP4KP7BH9IQcFnS2LkAuctREpIFCU4gD6o3Q6syUrJLX3yHn6kxkaokq2M9zdZFGsfhJ5cmJUyZuQah6YZACkh6RmzpvG035ObIJn2zjldUGbEMfk9_y2/s320/DSCF0634.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMrPoFlBuAjx7eTDAYAtk9Lzm1t3T0ieXLECwBX-1BJomsqStJy1IBCEsHEHQqQWAY3i4DoivPkXYxkxKRcIPhw6uKPy0m1q0gnNhLPzGcz2O9waYxoqh6u32g7N4W_huS2MRjPznNdXGm/s1600-h/DSCF0634.jpg"></a></p><br /><div></div><br /><p>I simply cannot believe Ian turned one yesterday!!</p><p>I LOVE YOU. :)</p>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-47094924100198868792008-11-13T12:12:00.003-05:002008-11-13T13:14:31.257-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisKcqmen_8Dv8l6n-7wka0xnMVD_3g-ktK8GUv1kxU8owqsKsdru3Oq425a6Yts5HYjbiysXsR14PQAjavnVthN-kZb86QP8lH7hlkftLYwA0LdabCaEsYEa9Fu_sl6BRFgfWrPjWEa20M/s1600-h/n1656521859_46023_1621.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 221px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisKcqmen_8Dv8l6n-7wka0xnMVD_3g-ktK8GUv1kxU8owqsKsdru3Oq425a6Yts5HYjbiysXsR14PQAjavnVthN-kZb86QP8lH7hlkftLYwA0LdabCaEsYEa9Fu_sl6BRFgfWrPjWEa20M/s320/n1656521859_46023_1621.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268206800086135666" /></a><br />I'm sad today. I just found out that a guy I went to high school with died a few days ago. <br />While attending his 20 year high school reunion 2 weeks ago, he fell and hit his head and then airlifted to the hospital. The cause of his fall was a stroke and he suffered several more while in the hospital. He was only 38 years old.<br /><br />Rest in peace, Paul. Many will miss you.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-17042420188614818792008-10-07T11:31:00.001-04:002008-10-07T11:34:05.174-04:00Just because<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBD4nKEAYg5U8GNp6Vxe-KMztDEGjacl_P85rt9IBIBPSqvKNJvbe1I_S0ab6RigxhBYJi4GI4qWczkbBEX7d8TIMwmF_uc3xGQvFk7Y7mzwfCmm1ZXR0X_qK3U2AxZXlZ9t6zGEi-DxE/s1600-h/DSCF0536.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254435439071823074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBD4nKEAYg5U8GNp6Vxe-KMztDEGjacl_P85rt9IBIBPSqvKNJvbe1I_S0ab6RigxhBYJi4GI4qWczkbBEX7d8TIMwmF_uc3xGQvFk7Y7mzwfCmm1ZXR0X_qK3U2AxZXlZ9t6zGEi-DxE/s320/DSCF0536.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-79802424805477390812008-07-31T13:17:00.004-04:002008-07-31T13:42:11.343-04:00i'm odddo y'all ever get stuck in a habit that you can't stop? i don't mean smoking or whatever, but stupid habits.<br /><br />mine?<br /><br />i count everything from the number of steps i take while walking with ian at night to applying squirts of lotion and sprays of deodorant in the morning while always stopping at the number 7 or 13.<br /><br />i knew i was weird.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-24887555870160552552008-07-23T14:39:00.002-04:002008-07-24T10:13:14.196-04:00The Raven<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Only this, and nothing more."</span><br /><br />ever get something stuck in your head and can't get it out? <br /><br />usually it is songs for me...or tv commercials...ugh. but today...actually for the last week...i've had this poem stuck in my head. i really haven't a clue why.<br /><br />i can't believe i haven't posted ANYthing in 2 months. ian is now eight months old and growing like a weed. he grew 9.5 inches in 7 months...luke was much rounder, not as long as ian, and it's just funny to compare the two. so far ian's is showing himself to be VERY stubborn...can't imagine where he might get that. ;-) i'm thinking it may go with the red hair.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-65906844375303482312008-05-22T12:11:00.004-04:002008-05-22T12:15:32.322-04:00My, how time flies!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I can't believe my little one is 6 months old already...</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ENpuciy-1wc1CdwI7wXIuwxJfNTVhEZLDrSzF32iGFNq6f3u2SlfE_fuX4zP00d-Hk-f9WiIEtRVqArhts2h9dUGQWIZeBvaju0WkK1t7Qk_7FyWcmg9EGrGAOcJm4tVa2I66eaBeiGf/s1600-h/Bathtime+0508.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203236307506143618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ENpuciy-1wc1CdwI7wXIuwxJfNTVhEZLDrSzF32iGFNq6f3u2SlfE_fuX4zP00d-Hk-f9WiIEtRVqArhts2h9dUGQWIZeBvaju0WkK1t7Qk_7FyWcmg9EGrGAOcJm4tVa2I66eaBeiGf/s320/Bathtime+0508.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-71114796369356092732008-03-13T13:10:00.006-04:002011-09-29T13:20:02.476-04:00Life doesn't suckYeah, that's a huge drop of wisdom, ain't it? :)<br /><br />My life is crazy busy (how can an almost 4 month old keep you SO damn busy? Don't ask...) with work, my children and my adorable husband. I actually feel like the luckiest damn girl in the world these days.<br /><br />And who woulda thunk it after my 2007?<br /><br />I keep thinking back to what a good friend of mine said. I thank God for the bad stuff, b/c it has led me to where I am today. And I wouldn't trade ANYthing for where I am today.<br /><br />I have a great husband who treats me as if I'm the queen of the world. I have a wonderful 7 year old son who is on cloud 9 constantly b/c of his father. And I have an almost 4 month old son who is as healthy as a horse & growing like a weed.<br /><br />I'm. So. Damn. Lucky.<br /><br />Just LOOK at this cutie!!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv6ZJcboj2LlGdq-b30FBFENKDcEkZ4ivfOk6swoFt8GZKPk9XFaD1pcYV06kGv2dxbZnfOXHi_4ZtwD81e-REp6GP1OJn3UTB2gmZNry5eKh45UaxKcdXoJXv6828Sm9Rw-Fjq2woW0h-/s1600-h/DSCF0254.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; display: block;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177277793512961602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv6ZJcboj2LlGdq-b30FBFENKDcEkZ4ivfOk6swoFt8GZKPk9XFaD1pcYV06kGv2dxbZnfOXHi_4ZtwD81e-REp6GP1OJn3UTB2gmZNry5eKh45UaxKcdXoJXv6828Sm9Rw-Fjq2woW0h-/s320/DSCF0254.JPG" /></a>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-15466259011597714842008-02-07T13:03:00.000-05:002008-02-07T13:05:38.661-05:00Just peekin' in to say hi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5s1ATT7ji5gQ-LcVCD3b_J9-nDDv8nX2VMA-LKOaM32OI1nB5Ce5PspluJ6kiaPFBlDDq1wLhHb_zrWN0n_Q5hkDyQd2x9uqkYjuydiluSJDleD5E8hYPaghDl-G4StLthUMPwP0TBed/s1600-h/100_3932.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164300839889832530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5s1ATT7ji5gQ-LcVCD3b_J9-nDDv8nX2VMA-LKOaM32OI1nB5Ce5PspluJ6kiaPFBlDDq1wLhHb_zrWN0n_Q5hkDyQd2x9uqkYjuydiluSJDleD5E8hYPaghDl-G4StLthUMPwP0TBed/s320/100_3932.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-79243785329248903682007-11-25T09:54:00.000-05:002007-11-25T09:58:31.789-05:00Ian Daniel<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We welcomed Ian Daniel into the world at 11:55am on 11/20/2007 via c-section. The little monkey had somehow wrapped himself up in the cord and had it four times around his neck. He weighed 6lbs. 3oz. and was 19" long. We are all doing well and are healthy & happy.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Love to you all.</span><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTEbgcszwN8Css8tORQVf-fqoIg0Hfbh5h3snW33ZKB0tgTtbifmm_ciIe1uaTOdqFdnsvVEyqe4ivv_ynlmlm2t5lNIPiVsKn3Wb1ftctgNW-bUsJ3-q1r5cbU3_PpoKHGo-jFrSukJA/s1600-h/First+meeting.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136792188936777794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTEbgcszwN8Css8tORQVf-fqoIg0Hfbh5h3snW33ZKB0tgTtbifmm_ciIe1uaTOdqFdnsvVEyqe4ivv_ynlmlm2t5lNIPiVsKn3Wb1ftctgNW-bUsJ3-q1r5cbU3_PpoKHGo-jFrSukJA/s320/First+meeting.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCpg-i8kWLVsjNJqxvPP1qDG85oWtVaQRD8GBDSYpONqssgVL0gNVnqeEGA7cWqbBzFubhnWRWi8QYh-tKe2-_Yp0_7o7dWmMhGN7MJYT7-5vC1M2STBD3ytv3bCnkZOZNGkNqJFjXzoym/s1600-h/Ian+Daniel.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136792193231745106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCpg-i8kWLVsjNJqxvPP1qDG85oWtVaQRD8GBDSYpONqssgVL0gNVnqeEGA7cWqbBzFubhnWRWi8QYh-tKe2-_Yp0_7o7dWmMhGN7MJYT7-5vC1M2STBD3ytv3bCnkZOZNGkNqJFjXzoym/s320/Ian+Daniel.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghx2HGR-AHYdCgdrX7YI9E_TBD2mu4XXE6J5-MwNIzxVEXepHIyd4J42xwlm0eraxyj0jdAuGCq14sCsGPD3DZ9ZI32457zswJPh_LhVXtAQGf8p5cxxgVPuWdfHXRdCVyfxFdPtgmsWn7/s1600-h/Luke+%26+Ian+(2).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136792201821679714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghx2HGR-AHYdCgdrX7YI9E_TBD2mu4XXE6J5-MwNIzxVEXepHIyd4J42xwlm0eraxyj0jdAuGCq14sCsGPD3DZ9ZI32457zswJPh_LhVXtAQGf8p5cxxgVPuWdfHXRdCVyfxFdPtgmsWn7/s320/Luke+%26+Ian+(2).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-27088665028302164152007-10-04T11:46:00.001-04:002007-11-15T11:43:00.341-05:00FIVE days to go (maybe)Sorry, guys...I didn't mean to leave y'all hanging for so long. I'm fine, Ian is fine; he's not here yet. He will be here (one way or another) by Tuesday, Nov. 20th...if not before. At my last OB appt., I was 2cm dilated and having a few irregular contractions, so we'll see. :)<br /><br />...I had kind of a disturbing revelation today. Eating no longer feels good thanks to heartburn. The big O is no longer as good thanks to pubic pain. Sleeping no longer feels good at all b/c everything hurts. Pretty much the only thing that feels good these days is pooping. A good poop is a wonderful thing, and life is pretty bad when your best part of the day (if you're lucky enough to have one during the day)...is a poop.<br /><br />...Somebody asked how it is possible for maternity pants to "fall down" despite the extra bodily growth, so I will explain the very complicated mathematical equation behind this phenomenon (for me anyway, I can't speak for others). Here goes: (Huge expanding ass + limited amount of ass covering material) / (stupid pants waistband that doesn't stretch past 8.5 months * thighs sausaged into thigh area with not enough material) = pants sticking on thighs of their own accord while pants fall halfway down the ass.<br /><br />...It's actually a good thing my thighs keep these suckers up or I'd have them down around my ankles half the time, and I have a hard enough time walking around these days as it is. Can you say...quack quack, waddle waddle??<br /><br />And….if all that wasn't enough to get a chuckle out of anyone....here's a view of my huge ass/belly from just a few days ago. Enjoy!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYEXlLESuUBZaghYgYJqTDz3ryrDc7xx66qYKA_9lYfroNoEPrqt1FF7EBeJoYUfLiWPSP0Ef29U3PYpop1pe37swJnbEQ9g7SjEAkxcFVAqHtCaPfWOKa44wCeNFmYtMqiY1EdLYLFA3/s1600-h/11-12-07b+pregnant.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133108249458110498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYEXlLESuUBZaghYgYJqTDz3ryrDc7xx66qYKA_9lYfroNoEPrqt1FF7EBeJoYUfLiWPSP0Ef29U3PYpop1pe37swJnbEQ9g7SjEAkxcFVAqHtCaPfWOKa44wCeNFmYtMqiY1EdLYLFA3/s320/11-12-07b+pregnant.jpg" border="0" /></a>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-61045453549161885322007-09-26T15:52:00.000-04:002007-09-26T16:19:10.714-04:008 weeks to go<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Why do they make hugely preggo women pee in a cup? There has to be a better way. When I go these days I have to like suction the cup to my va-ja-jay just so I can make sure I catch some of it. Also, my doc's office has a toilet that is lower to the ground than most and has a very shallow bowl. So, not only do I get to pee on my hand, no matter how I position, my hand is in the yucky toilet bowl water. It sucks. Oh, and that's only IF I can actually pee. Apparently, this little one does not like to let me go when we're at the doc's office. It's horrible, they're giving me water and asking me constantly "did you pee in the cup yet?" I swear it's entertainment for them. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">This morning, after peeing in their damn cup, I didn't know until the nurse was weighing me that I had my skirt tucked into my underwear. It is very telling of my current mood that I don't care. There were about 5 people in the waiting room who saw my maternity underwear and I DON'T CARE.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I confess that after months of trying carefully NOT to waddle, I now walk like a weeble-wobble, and I don't care -- as long as I don't fall down.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You know you're pregant when you turn the AC way down <em>and</em> turn the fan on, then go pee before you climb into bed, kick the blankets and sheets off, roll to your side and lay your leg across hubby, wiggle around until your comfortable, wiggle some more, realize you need to pee again from all the wiggling, go pee, wash your hands, lotion your hands, realize your belly needs more lotion, get back in bed, roll on side, place leg over hubby, wiggle until comfortable, roll onto back and place your hands on your belly waiting for movement from baby, once you feel that reassuring kick you smile, grab sleeping hubby's hand and place it on your belly, no kick, hubby is impatient and takes hand off belly, baby then kicks, you tell him he missed it, say goodnight, roll on side place leg over hubby, start to fall asleep and realize there is a tiny sensation to go pee, you contemplate holding it but don't want to have to get up from a deeper sleep(if there is such a thing in pregnancy) so you get out of bed and go drip a couple drops in the toilet, you finally go to sleep, but the whole process repeats itself <strong>throughout </strong>the night.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Whew...I need a nap.</span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-70223825080158512012007-09-04T15:17:00.000-04:002007-09-04T15:17:56.541-04:00Yeah, so I like to whine...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...The doctor said my stomach measured so perfectly textbook he had to measure it twice. I doubt he could say the same if he had to measure my ass.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...OMG, I have gained 32 pounds so far in my pregnancy. I wonder if I'll get the courage to just take ownership of it, get really fat, and stop worrying about it. I'll be eating chips with sour cream while I decide.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...I am generally a good person. I try really hard to be giving, and caring, and supportive in all my relationships. However, currently I could not care less about anyone but myself, I am the complete center of my own little universe. This was slightly bothersome to me until I realized I am getting so big that soon I will have my own gravitational pull, and everything I come into contact with will start levitating and revolving in the air around my huge giant ass. So technically, I AM the center of my universe. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...People are starting to get genuinely shocked by my size when I tell them I have two & a half more months. They pretend they aren't, and stammer some weird responses, but the look of sheer horror on their faces when they ask my due date is priceless.<br /><br />...We have an ultrasound pic of our baby's "unit" as my hubby calls it. In it, he appears to be exceptionally gifted in the, um, size department. This has become a running joke among my friends and family. The poor child has already been slated (at my shower no less) as a future porn star, and everyone wants to see the goods after he's born to see if it was a weird angle or what. Sheesh. The poor thing...or lucky thing, we'll see!</span><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...I confess that I have found more food than I care to report in my bra. (Big rack + v-neck shirts = crumb basket.) I ALWAYS eat it. What else are you gonna do, wander around with it in your hand for 4 minutes looking for a trash can and forgetting what you were looking for and sitting back down and then remembering when you find a grape in your hand and getting back up to look some more? No thank-you.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-55402244457667318872007-08-23T12:45:00.000-04:002007-08-23T12:48:42.081-04:00Ginormous<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Is that a real word? Ahhh...who cares!</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjg2zD4s-vGn6_2c3CqsoEHfA9pJYqfehtQN2Badh0LDgrzRYNZ_1ztw4m5mxRp17l8flezjLuIh-Jf2xaZEmnU8bAPNpBNz7o7ITB8zb2vqnSX8Pr0St4qQUAubY6gNimLB46oIVBQbcZ/s1600-h/DSCF0133.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101938759801300770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjg2zD4s-vGn6_2c3CqsoEHfA9pJYqfehtQN2Badh0LDgrzRYNZ_1ztw4m5mxRp17l8flezjLuIh-Jf2xaZEmnU8bAPNpBNz7o7ITB8zb2vqnSX8Pr0St4qQUAubY6gNimLB46oIVBQbcZ/s320/DSCF0133.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><br /><div></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-7261733711097970652007-08-09T16:36:00.001-04:002007-08-15T16:26:13.190-04:00C'mon......So, we all know certain things happen when you're pregnant, right? One of these things is I have to pee...a lot. At each session I get about two drips. Another thing that happens to some, me included, is that you get the sense of smell of a large bloodhound; EVERYTHING smells stronger to me these days. Keeping these two phenomenons in mind, I decided today at a work lunch, that having a large helping of asparagus was a great idea. I have subsequently had about 30 dribble asparagus stinky pees. It is grossing me out. I will not be eating asparagus for a long-ass (will this pass?) time.<br /><br />...I went next door to ask for some salt and pepper for my mac and cheese and this assmunch of a gaymonkeysbutt says "ARE YOU HAVING TWINS" NO! I'm not having twins... you say that every time I see you! He's said this like 5 times before...Then he says, "Is it a boy or a girl?" I say, "boy" and he proceeds to say.... "ARE YOU SURE IT'S NOT A BOY AND A GIRL???"<br /><br />... I have the WORST road rage ever. I did before I got preggo, but since then it's only gotten progressively worse. I cuss like a sailor at every assmonkey who goes 50 in the fast lane, or refuses to let me over when they clearly see me with my signal on, or motorcycles who drive on the shoulder when traffic is backed up because they're too special to wait in line with the rest of us.<br /><br />...I have turned into Captain Gasbag. I am SO uncomfortable, I can't eat anything without getting horrible gas pains and burping & farting like a big fat man who just downed a half rack of PBR in two minutes flat. And how embarrassing is it to have your six year old say, "Mom, you need to warn somebody before you crack one off like that!"<br /><br />...Have I mentioned lately how much I would like a margarita? I would. Several in fact. A pitcher would be good. And a straw. A bendy one, those are fun.<br /><br />... I would so totally be ready to have this baby already if I could just hold a coherent thought for long enough to actually solidify the. . . ah, man. I completely forgot where I was going with that. . .damn.<br /><br />...I think it's gross that guys call me "sexy pregnant lady" at work, but I'm taking any compliments I can get at this point, so I grin whenever they make that corny ass remark.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-51430673795954682132007-08-08T13:42:00.000-04:002007-08-09T12:55:24.068-04:00Yes...all of this is true.<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...yesterday I dragged hubby to the "toy store", got a new vibe, a naughty video with firemen "rescuing" women. He was quite happy with me, and now I have a brand new toy. My libido has morphed into that of a 16 year old boy and I kind of love it!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...the little one has decided it would be fun to shove his foot into my bladder and kick the same spot over and over. I have tried reasoning with him to no avail, and it is starting to hurt! He is sooo grounded when he decides to make his appearance. </span><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...last night I had a dream that I had sex with Lionel Richie. Afterwards, I made him sing me "Ballerina Girl". I am a dork...and yes, I do have his greatest hits cd in my car right now.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...assmonkey makes me laugh.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...I am starting to really get bothered by skinny pregnant women. There are a few I know - one is complaining about being 114 pounds right now. WTF - my right ass cheek weighs 114 pounds! It is about to eclipse the sun. Soon the entire world is going to be plunged into darkness - it will not be the Apocalypse - it is my great big giant ass!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...I am just totally jealous and dumb - I know it. I am kind of excited about going on a diet in three months though, and THAT is weird, who gets excited about dieting? I just want my body back!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...I have a rash and I look like a giant lizard right now - my entire neck is red and scaly. Ah, the wonders of being pregnant never cease to amaze me. So much of it is <em><strong>so</strong></em> attractive: the scales, farting, and size. I am surprised the komodo dragons and/or warthogs are not trying to escape from the nearest zoo right now to come try to mate with me. If you see any passing by, tell them I expect dinner first!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...I wanted to shoot this naked old lady in the gym lockerroom the other day. She said to me, and I quote, "When are you due?" I responded November. Something in her head told her this was the best response to that, "My God, you're going to be huge! Are you sure you're not having twins? You still have (counts on her fingers) four months to go!" I smiled a very patronizing smile (you know, when you scrunch up your nose, close your lips and pretend to smile?) and walked away. What I would have loved to say but didn't: "Look you old, flabby, disgustingly naked assmonkey, I'm pregnant. What's your excuse for that belly?"</span><br /></p>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-52700709406140902162007-08-02T12:56:00.000-04:002007-08-02T13:43:07.905-04:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I love being pregnant; I really do (it's not just the bigger boobs, either). I mean, it is so cool to feel Ian move inside me, to know that I am growing a new life. It's been absolutely wonderful since I've been able to feel him move around more. I was such a nervous wreck the first few months of this pregnancy that feeling him move has eased my mind so much.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I had an amnio done about 2 months ago to prepare ourselves in case anything was wrong...with my age (36) and my diabetes and hypothyroidism, I am at risk for so much going wrong. Luckily, it showed nothing wrong...:) What it did show was an inverted arm in the 8th chromosome. I've been teasing Mike that since I can raise one eyebrow (like the Rock, lol) and Luke can do it as well (and also has that 8th chromosome thing), this baby will be able to do the same thing. The genetics center hasn't a clue what this anomaly does; they just say that if the mother has it and passes it down, then more than likely it's not a cause for concern.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I'm starting to get a little nervous about school starting here in three weeks. Lately, Luke has been <em>very</em> clingy. He doesn't want to go anywhere that he's not with Mike or I. Daycare has been a emotional struggle every morning...and my hormones can't take it, lol. I don't know if he is insecure about the new baby or what. I'm also worried about getting two kids (and myself) ready each morning. Mike isn't around so it all falls to me. I know there are plenty of moms who do it every day, but I'm freaking a bit. I know it will all work out, though, blah, blah, blah.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Of course, I wouldn't be me if I wasn't freaking out a bit about things.....like:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">...I miss my size 10 clothes and wonder if I'll ever fit into them again!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">...I was late to work this morning b/c I spent about 20 minutes staring at my ass, wondering when in the past three months it had signed up for an ass time-share. My normal ass is now sitting in Bermuda somewhere, while Rosanne Barr's ass decided South Carolina might be a nice place to visit and has settled happily onto my body.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">...I am suffering from a serious lack of motivation at work. I am getting it done, but not as quickly as usual. I figure I am now using all my creative energy to figure out how to tie my shoes and shave my legs each morning, so there is not much left to pour into my job.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">...I have eaten well and been very active over the past week and have gained another 3 pounds, bringing me to 25 thus far - my earlobes probably have cellulite already.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Okay, that's enough for today...:)</span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2168463928510925122.post-57532575758359021612007-07-25T12:44:00.000-04:002007-07-25T16:34:59.028-04:00What makes you happy?Do <em>things</em> make you happy?<br /><br />Or do you simply choose to be happy regardless of what you have or don't have?<br /><br />I think it comes down to a choice. Sure, things happen that you don't like, that you don't want. But happiness is a choice. You can choose to allow what other people say or do affect how you view yourself, your life...or you can choose to not allow others to affect those things.<br /><br />It is certainly easier to do that when life is going well. But, again, "well" depends on your viewpoint, doesn't it?<br /><br />Me?<br /><br />I choose to laugh. :)<br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />To update anyone that may care to read this...<br /><br />My life is going fantastically (if a little too busy) these days. I am now married to an absolutely wonderful man, my son is doing really well and we are looking forward to the birth of a healthy new boy in November.<br /><br />I won't bore you with the details of what's happened in between all that but, of course, just when you think that you have all (or more than) you can handle, sometimes God throws you a curveball. But curveballs are what make life more interesting. Sometimes they are sad things, but you learn to get past that and move forward into the happy. That's what these last two years have been for me...learning to move forward past the sad.<br /><br />Because the sad things sometimes are what lead you to the wonderful.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15630789316862715528noreply@blogger.com7