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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 15 May 2013 22:13:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>school projects</category><category>the proclaimers</category><category>soarin'</category><category>dinner</category><category>movies</category><category>bugs</category><category>sand</category><category>shopping</category><category>Lands' End</category><category>super 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phrases</category><category>diverticulitis</category><category>babies</category><category>Kenmore</category><category>songs</category><category>stat counter</category><category>Doogie</category><category>map</category><category>Austin</category><category>Quaker Chewy</category><category>marriage</category><category>winter</category><category>star wars</category><category>scorpions</category><category>embarrassment</category><category>homework</category><category>mothers</category><category>blessings</category><category>disney world</category><category>Boo</category><category>haircuts</category><category>recalls</category><category>Valentine's day</category><category>Savannah</category><category>clothes</category><category>ballerina</category><category>Clay</category><category>airplanes</category><category>colorectal cancer</category><category>money-saving ideas</category><category>laptops</category><category>costumes</category><category>kids' jokes</category><category>CT scans</category><category>driving</category><category>NPR</category><category>good for the kids</category><category>hospitals</category><category>restaurants</category><category>back to school</category><category>meme</category><category>tooth fairy</category><category>Screamfree Parenting</category><category>dmv</category><category>birthday</category><category>stress</category><category>jeans</category><category>Millennium Park</category><category>diaper cream</category><category>sso</category><category>vacation</category><category>dentists</category><category>colonoscopy preparation</category><category>vlog</category><category>cribs</category><category>diapers</category><category>Sea World</category><category>to do lists</category><category>yo gabba gabba</category><category>Chicago Moms Blog</category><category>tantrums</category><category>book</category><category>daughters</category><category>military school</category><category>Princess Bride</category><category>dreams</category><category>food</category><category>lillian grace</category><category>Goggle search phrases</category><category>dates</category><category>kids drawings</category><category>70s</category><category>epcot</category><category>potty training</category><category>habits</category><category>Discovery Cove</category><category>pelvic exams</category><category>snow</category><category>Nair</category><title>BECAUSE I SAID SO</title><description /><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1341</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/dNXZ" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="blogspot/dnxz" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0">blogspot/dNXZ</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0">http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-4344266706883911389</guid><pubDate>Tue, 14 May 2013 01:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-05-13T20:24:49.138-05:00</atom:updated><title>You Won't Believe my Excuse for Avoiding Exercise This Time!</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/05/13/you-wont-believe-my-excuse-for-getting-out-of-exercise-this-time/028b/" rel="attachment wp-att-3845" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="028b" class="size-medium wp-image-3845" height="134" src="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/files/2013/05/028b-300x201.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;At this time last year, I was all about working out. I started out walking a few blocks while feeling certain I was going into cardiac arrest. After a couple months, I was half-walking/half-running about 5K every day. Fast forward through a year of blood clots, a pulmonary embolism, plantar faciitis, and extreme laziness and here I am. I climb a flight of stairs, then gulp down oxygen while trying to hide the fact that I’m winded from walking up a dozen steps. And all the while, I’m vowing to start working out again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Determined to get back into the groove of exercising regularly, I went for a walk yesterday. Instead of taking into account the fact that I can hardly make it up the stairs, I took off walking on my old 5K route. A smart person would have known that this little endeavor would not end well. Heck, even a stupid person would have probably known that. Clearly, I’m a level below stupid because I couldn’t see anything wrong with my plan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/05/13/you-wont-believe-my-excuse-for-getting-out-of-exercise-this-time/" target="_blank"&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/05/you-wont-believe-my-excuse-for-avoiding.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-1677102946629940453</guid><pubDate>Mon, 13 May 2013 23:35:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-05-13T18:35:09.000-05:00</atom:updated><title>My Diva Demands on my Tour Rider</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/05/05/my-diva-demands-on-my-tour-rider/pic/" rel="attachment wp-att-3751" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="My diva rider requirements" class="size-medium wp-image-3751" height="200" src="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/files/2013/05/pic-225x300.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt; My diva rider requirements[/caption]

I saw an &lt;a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/02/beyonce-diva-demands-tour-rider_n_3199784.html?utm_hp_ref=mostpopular#slide=more279373" target="_blank"&gt;article on HuffPo&lt;/a&gt; about Beyonce's tour rider. Allegedly, she has demanded such oddities as alkaline water that must be chilled to 21 degrees and served with $900 titanium straws, and bathrooms which have new toilet seats and red toilet paper at every venue. I, for one, completely understand this. I mean, if I was going on a world tour, there are certain necessities I'd require as well. Living in luxury hotel rooms night after night can be tough. One can't be on the road for extended periods of time without those little touches that bring a sense of comfort and hominess. If it was me, I'd require the following on my tour rider.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/05/05/my-diva-demands-on-my-tour-rider/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/05/my-diva-demands-on-my-tour-rider.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-160936266725747320</guid><pubDate>Mon, 13 May 2013 01:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-05-12T20:47:44.105-05:00</atom:updated><title>Through Little Eyes</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gdgzpmNttaw/UZBF-e8eIRI/AAAAAAAAKR4/79D60BHaSmc/s1600/016b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gdgzpmNttaw/UZBF-e8eIRI/AAAAAAAAKR4/79D60BHaSmc/s200/016b.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The best thing about Mother’s Day is that it isn’t just one day. I get to be a mother 365 days a year. Yeah, some days motherhood is hard. With 6 kids, I’ve had more than my fair share of broken bones, stitches, and surgeries. I’ve had way more than enough broken glasses, lost mittens, foot prints on the floor, foot prints on the walls, marker on the table, yogurt on the TV, Legos on the floor, and messes of every variety imaginable (and many you wouldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/05/12/through-little-eyes/" target="_blank"&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/05/through-little-eyes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gdgzpmNttaw/UZBF-e8eIRI/AAAAAAAAKR4/79D60BHaSmc/s72-c/016b.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-1709458389156755434</guid><pubDate>Sun, 12 May 2013 22:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-05-15T02:17:13.602-05:00</atom:updated><title>Fun at the Pool!</title><description>&lt;em&gt;This post is sponsored by&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="https://itunes.apple.com/app/id548398240?mt=8" target="_blank"&gt;Disney Story&lt;/a&gt;. To find out more about&amp;nbsp;this brand-new story-creation app - and how it puts the power of storytelling in your hands -&amp;nbsp;click&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="https://itunes.apple.com/app/id548398240?mt=8" target="_blank"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I was asked to review this new app by Disney called &lt;i&gt;Story&lt;/i&gt;. I agreed, thinking that I'd check it out, write up a review, and move on. I imagined it would be a cool app, but didn't think I'd probably use it much after I reviewed it. I was wrong. I think it's my new favorite app!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I love how &lt;i&gt;Story&lt;/i&gt; takes the pictures and videos on your iPhone and organizes them by the date they were taken. All you have to do is choose a template, add captions and text, arrange the pictures in whatever order you'd like, and click to share. It couldn't be simpler!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;It only took me about 15 minutes to put this together.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;We spent some time at the pool over this weekend. No matter how busy I am, my kids can always talk me into taking them to the beach or the pool. (Between you and me, it doesn't take a lot of convincing.) I captured some of our fun on my iPhone while we were there. I may not always bring my camera to ordinary events like going to the pool, or taking a walk by the lake, or playing in a blanket fort, or riding our bikes down the street. But those are the moments that are so much fun to remember. I mean, sure we all record Christmas and graduations and birthdays, but the cool thing about cell phones today is that you can easily capture all those everyday moments that make you smile. And with the Disney Story app, it's super-easy and fun to tell those stories and share them with your loved ones! Check out my story about our fun at the pool!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;(If this doesn't show up well with your browser, you can click the URL here instead:&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://story.us/story?o=HzFdcOSra2qJ"&gt;http://story.us/story?o=HzFdcOSra2qJ&lt;/a&gt; )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;


&lt;iframe height="474" scrolling="no" src="http://story.us/story?o=HzFdcOSra2qJ" width="390"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="https://itunes.apple.com/app/id548398240?mt=8" target="_blank"&gt;Download the Disney Story app from iTunes&amp;nbsp; – for FREE – right here!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="https://twitter.com/DisneyStory" target="_blank"&gt;Disney Story Twitter&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/DisneyStory" target="_blank"&gt;Disney Story Facebook&lt;/a&gt;
</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/05/fun-at-pool.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-296686633736015352</guid><pubDate>Tue, 07 May 2013 18:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-05-07T13:27:56.473-05:00</atom:updated><title>An Open Letter to all Male Members of any Online Dating Site</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LR1mLUKiyks/UYlHi1eXBZI/AAAAAAAAKQg/x9Cy5eGX2Rk/s1600/file0001218279742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" mwa="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LR1mLUKiyks/UYlHi1eXBZI/AAAAAAAAKQg/x9Cy5eGX2Rk/s200/file0001218279742.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Dear Hopeful Single,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I’m not writing because I’m interested in you. I’m writing because I feel sorry for you. Your online dating profile makes me cringe; it floods me&amp;nbsp;with embarrassment for you. Your emails help me to understand why you’re single. Now, in real life, I don’t go around judging a person based solely (oh, and speaking of &lt;em&gt;sole&lt;/em&gt;, it’s &lt;em&gt;soulmate&lt;/em&gt;, not &lt;em&gt;solemate,&lt;/em&gt; and honestly, you really shouldn’t even be using the word at all) on their ability to write and take a decent photograph, but on an online dating site, that’s all I have to go by. When I receive a couple dozen emails, winks, and likes a day, I have to weed through them and yes, unfair as it may be, I skip over those of you who start emails with “Hey Hotstuff”, have pictures of your dog sitting on your Harley, and have phrases such as “herpes-free” in your profiles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/05/07/an-open-letter-to-all-male-members-of-any-online-dating-site/" target="_blank"&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/05/an-open-letter-to-all-male-members-of.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LR1mLUKiyks/UYlHi1eXBZI/AAAAAAAAKQg/x9Cy5eGX2Rk/s72-c/file0001218279742.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-3597029099716935975</guid><pubDate>Mon, 06 May 2013 01:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-05-05T20:20:50.228-05:00</atom:updated><title>Celebrating Greek Easter</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/?attachment_id=3774" rel="attachment wp-att-3774" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="009b" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-3774" height="133" src="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/files/2013/05/009b-300x200.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;My dad is Greek. My mom is, well, a little bit of everything. That makes me half Greek and half mutt. (And that's the extent of the math I'm willing to do.) As a kid, my family would celebrate Easter, and many years we'd also celebrate Greek Easter which, going by the Greek Orthodox calendar, usually falls on a different day. Sometimes we went to my aunt Vasiliki's home to celebrate, sometimes we went to a restaurant, and oftentimes we celebrated at home. My favorite Greek Easter tradition is &lt;em&gt;tsougrisma,&lt;/em&gt; cracking red eggs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/05/05/celebrating-greek-easter/" target="_blank"&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/05/celebrating-greek-easter.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-7356619185797997616</guid><pubDate>Wed, 01 May 2013 03:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-30T22:00:45.498-05:00</atom:updated><title>A Day in the Life</title><description>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Dear anyone who has ever gotten mad at me for not returning your phone call or email or text right away,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Although I love you (or at least tolerate you) and want to talk to you, I can't always take time out to do so immediately. This is why -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;6:00 &amp;nbsp;Alarm goes off. I smack my phone a few times until it turns off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;6:20 &amp;nbsp;Austin comes in my room and says something about rain. I don't wake up enough to comprehend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;6:25 &amp;nbsp;Savannah comes in my room and asks me if I can drive her and Austin to school before second period because it's raining. I growl at Savannah and my head rotates 360 because, quite frankly, I'm not a nice person in the morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;6:45 &amp;nbsp;Wake up again and realize it's quarter til 7:00. Freak out. But not enough to actually get out of bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:00 &amp;nbsp;Spring out of bed, adrenaline rushing through my veins. Thankfully, I work well under pressure. Wake up the Littles and the Middles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:02 &amp;nbsp;Shower. I remember to actually rinse off today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:10 &amp;nbsp;Wrap myself in a robe and go downstairs and make coffee and lunch while I drip dry because I'm too lazy to actually take a towel to myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:12 &amp;nbsp;Jackson informs me that I need to drive him to school early for his field trip. Information that would've been nice to know &lt;i&gt;yesterday&lt;/i&gt; (not that I would've dragged my butt out of bed any earlier, of course.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:17 &amp;nbsp;Go upstairs and get dressed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:18 &amp;nbsp;Decide I look hideous and change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:19 &amp;nbsp;Decide the new outfit looks just as bad as the first one. Change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:20 &amp;nbsp;Repeat the last two steps.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:21 &amp;nbsp;Vow to consume nothing but water. At least until noon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:25 &amp;nbsp;Slap on some make-up and take stock of my hair. It's raining and humid. I already look like Roseanne Roseannadanna. &amp;nbsp;Ponytail it is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:30 &amp;nbsp;Wake up the oldest kids who have fallen back asleep. Pile everyone in the car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:31 &amp;nbsp;Lexi's friend picks her up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:35 &amp;nbsp;I drop off Jackson.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:45 &amp;nbsp;I drop off Brooklyn and Clayton.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:55 &amp;nbsp;I drop off Austin and Savannah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;8:00 &amp;nbsp;I drive away from the high school as a branch hits a powerline almost directly above me. The tree catches on fire and sparks fly. I slam on my brakes. As I watch the flames, the whole thing bursts into a fireball and I'm momentarily blinded by the light. I've never seen anything like this before and I'm freaked out. I call 9-1-1 and debate speeding under the burning foliage and sparking wires to get to work, or just sitting there until the firemen arrive because well - FIREMEN!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;8:05 &amp;nbsp;I get impatient and drive as far around the wires as I can.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;8:06 &amp;nbsp;Get stuck in traffic behind an accident.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;8:25 &amp;nbsp;See a smashed-up school bus and a news crew and pray that no one was hurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;8:35 &amp;nbsp;Get to work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:00 &amp;nbsp;Decide that I was crazy for vowing not to eat and grab my yogurt. Realize I've forgotten to pack a spoon again. Debate between using a pen or a mascara wand to eat it. Find a straw in my drawer and attempt to scoop up yogurt with a straw because I am just &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; classy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:05 &amp;nbsp;Drink a couple more cups of coffee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:15 &amp;nbsp;Consider calling 9-1-1 again because it feels like my heart is going to explode from caffeine overdose. And I didn't actually get to see any firemen the first time around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:20 &amp;nbsp;School starts and I bang my head against the wall for the next 4 hours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;1:30 &amp;nbsp;Take time to eat an unhealthy amount of peanut butter brownies for lunch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;2:00 &amp;nbsp;Go back to banging my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;4:00 &amp;nbsp;Leave school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;4:25 &amp;nbsp;Pick up the Littles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;4:30 &amp;nbsp;Get home. Check on the homework situation. Start a load of laundry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;4:45 &amp;nbsp;Check email and make sure I'm all set for the Twitter party I'm co-hosting tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;5:30 &amp;nbsp;Ask Jackson to make some couscous and corn for dinner. Slice up leftover pork chops into little strips so kids won't realize they're left-overs and they'll eat them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;5:55 &amp;nbsp;Take Lex and Brooklyn to tumbling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;6:00 Kick them out the door and drive Savannah on to the high school so she can get the last of her volunteer hours for NHS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;6:15 &amp;nbsp;Drive around campus and pick up Austin, who stayed late to work on some ceramics, from school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;6:30 &amp;nbsp;Drop Austin off at home and go back to football field to watch the girls do backflips.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:00 &amp;nbsp;Go home and give instructions to everyone to get ready for bed. Assure Lexi that despite the warnings, a tornado isn't going to hit us. Start writing a brilliant blog post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:45 &amp;nbsp;Do something stupid and manage to lose my brilliant blog post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;7:55 &amp;nbsp;Finally stop cursing my evil computer and dial in for the Twitter party.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:05 &amp;nbsp;Tuck in my kiddos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:15 &amp;nbsp;Give up on writing a brilliant blog post and instead endeavor to explain how busy my days are thus resulting in stupid blog posts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:16 &amp;nbsp;Get interrupted by Lexi who is afraid that zombies will kill her in her sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:18 &amp;nbsp;Get interrupted by Savannah who asks me if I can help her with her math. She knows darn well that I can't. She just likes to make fun of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:25 &amp;nbsp;Get interrupted by Jackson who shows me his abdomen and says, "Is it supposed to stick out like this?" I make a mental note to call the doctor about the ultrasound results tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:30 &amp;nbsp;Get interrupted by Savannah who tells me she's still dizzy from donating blood today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:35 &amp;nbsp;Get interrupted by Lexi again who says she has a tummy ache.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:45 &amp;nbsp;Get interrupted by Savannah again who complains that she has her EOC in history tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;9:50 &amp;nbsp;Get interrupted by Austin who presents me with a chocolate cupcake. It almost, &lt;em&gt;almost&lt;/em&gt; does away with my disappointment in his crappy grades.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;10:15 &amp;nbsp;Work my way through a backlog of email.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;11:00 &amp;nbsp;Realize I've been goofing off on Facebook for the last 45 minutes when I should've been writing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;11:20 &amp;nbsp;Hop in the shower, take a handful of Tums to counteract the chocolate cupcake and lie down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;11:45 &amp;nbsp;Take my turn in my 4 perpetual Words with Friends games and lie awake for an hour thinking about everything I have to do tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;12:45 &amp;nbsp;Get up and switch the load of laundry I've forgotten about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;2:30 &amp;nbsp;Wake up on fire and dripping sweat because I'm &lt;em&gt;middle-aged&lt;/em&gt;. Think about going downstairs and standing in the freezer but decide I'm too lazy to move.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;3:00 &amp;nbsp;Wake up with a great idea for a book and type it into my iPhone even though I know from experience that I'll wake up tomorrow and not be able to read a single word of the nonsense I typed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Yep, that's pretty much my (and really, any mom's) day. There are variations of this. Sometimes I forget to pack a spoon and eat my yogurt with a plastic knife. Sometimes I have water polo instead of tumbling. Power lines don't usually explode on my way to work. But the basics stay the same. So this is why I sometimes can't call you back right away or find the time to answer emails. I'm sure you understand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Sincerely,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Dawn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/a-day-in-life.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-9168779748945070766</guid><pubDate>Mon, 29 Apr 2013 01:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-28T20:08:09.609-05:00</atom:updated><title>Prom Dresses Through the Ages</title><description>After I posted slide shows of my kids' proms &lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/21/prom-according-to-austin/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;HERE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/21/prom-according-to-savannah/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HERE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, I was sent a link to &lt;a href="http://xciteprom.com/forever-enchanted/disney-forever-enchanted-prom-dress-collections.php" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Disney's Forever Enchanted Spring 2013 Collection&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; of prom dresses. I didn't even know Disney made prom dresses, but who better to create a gown fit for a princess, right? After scrolling through the pictures, I decided I wanted to go to prom just so I could wear one of those gorgeous gowns. Better yet, I wanted a 'do-over'! I want to trade in the fluffy, frilly, pale peach Gunne Sax dress I wore in 1988 (and the big hair that went along with it) for one of these beautiful gowns (and a straight iron for my hair). This got me thinking about how styles have changed through the years. I put a shout-out to my readers on Facebook, asking for their prom pics and as usual they came through with flying colors! I know you'll enjoy this slide show of prom dresses from 1959 to the present! And a huge "thank you" to everyone who sent me their picture! I wasn't able to use all of them here because I got so many, but I appreciate the time and effort you all took to send them to me! You're all beautiful!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/28/prom-dresses-through-the-years/" target="_blank"&gt;TO SEE THE SLIDE SHOW, CLICK HERE!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/prom-dresses-through-ages.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-5681167058888412948</guid><pubDate>Tue, 23 Apr 2013 01:35:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-22T20:35:48.081-05:00</atom:updated><title>When a Little Infection Turns Ugly</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMuHuxpAlcs/UXXk90798ZI/AAAAAAAAKQM/u3i0gpGXEiM/s1600/file0001019614506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMuHuxpAlcs/UXXk90798ZI/AAAAAAAAKQM/u3i0gpGXEiM/s200/file0001019614506.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;A couple weeks ago, Lexi complained that her finger hurt. It looked like she had a hangnail that had caused the irritation. I got out the Epsom salt and told her to soak it, then I dabbed on some Neosporin before bandaging it. We repeated this for a few days and then I forgot about it because that's what I do. Single mom, six kids, two jobs, super-busy. I just didn't think to ask her about her finger because it was just an irritated cuticle. No big deal, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Fast forward two weeks. Yesterday morning, Lexi nonchalantly showed me her finger and said, "I don't think it's getting better."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I looked at her hand and gasped! "Ohmygosh! That's horrible! Is that the same finger?" I asked incredulously as I cringed at the sight of her red, swollen finger that was oozing nastiness. The skin was peeling up like layers of phyllo dough on a baklava. Sorry for that visual, but you're welcome for not putting an actual picture on here. I asked, "Why didn't you tell me it was getting worse? Oh my gosh, doesn't it hurt?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/22/when-a-little-infection-turns-ugly/" target="_blank"&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/when-little-infection-turns-ugly.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMuHuxpAlcs/UXXk90798ZI/AAAAAAAAKQM/u3i0gpGXEiM/s72-c/file0001019614506.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-2556525435005825198</guid><pubDate>Mon, 22 Apr 2013 12:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-22T07:30:10.045-05:00</atom:updated><title>Prom: According to Savannah</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/21/prom-according-to-savannah/prom-018b/" rel="attachment wp-att-3684" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;img alt="prom 018b" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-3684" height="133" src="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/files/2013/04/prom-018b-300x200.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Last night, both my son who is a senior, and my daughter who is a junior, attended their high school's prom. I thought I'd write about the whole prom experience from my point of view, but realized that my view basically includes bills and driving around and it really isn’t too entertaining. So, instead I decided to write two posts: one from my son’s perspective and one from my daughter’s because their takes on the same event are quite different. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;As far as I can tell, this is how it works. &lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;The girl has to shop for the perfect dress. She must bring a pack of friends along on this quest to gather many opinions, to make sure no one else buys the same dress, for zipper help, and for companionship when they stop for soft pretzels and frappuccinos. She has to find shoes that will go beautifully with the dress even though they’ll undoubtedly cause blisters and possibly a broken ankle. She needs to find jewelry that will complement her dress and a dainty clutch that will house her cell phone and lipgloss for the evening. She needs to order a boutonnière that will smartly match her dress. She will text all her friends and arrange who will be meeting when and where, whose house will be party central, who is going to be sleeping over where, and she’ll make sure to fill her date in on the itinerary. On the day of prom, she’ll shower, conditioner and remove any and all hair from her body. Appointments will be made or she’ll enlist the help of friends and family to do her hair and nails. She’ll carefully dress and plaster a smile on her face while the parent paparazzi take hundreds of photographs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To see the slide show of Savannah's prom, click &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/21/prom-according-to-savannah/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HERE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/prom-according-to-savannah.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-7156705882254314968</guid><pubDate>Mon, 22 Apr 2013 12:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-22T07:24:49.957-05:00</atom:updated><title>Prom: According to Austin</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/21/prom-according-to-austin/prom-014c/" rel="attachment wp-att-3678" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="prom 014c" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-3678" height="133" src="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/files/2013/04/prom-014c-300x200.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Last night, both my son who is a senior, and my daughter who is a junior, attended their high school's prom. I thought I'd write about the whole prom experience from my point of view, but realized that my view basically includes bills and driving around and it really isn’t too entertaining. So, instead I decided to write two posts: one from my son’s perspective and one from my daughter’s because their takes on the same event are quite different. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;As far as I can tell, this is how it works. The boy will ask the girl to prom in a creative and romantic way that outdoes his friends. He’ll order a corsage and a tux (whatever combination in the Big Book of Tux Pictures looks good). He’ll probably get a haircut after his mom tells him he’s looking shaggy, and insists he get one. On the day of the event, he’ll shower, dress, and show up when and where his date has instructed him to go. He'll grudgingly stand still, or ham it up like a goofball for pictures. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To see the slideshow from Austin's prom, click &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/21/prom-according-to-austin/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HERE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/prom-according-to-austin.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-2436845526961894358</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 Apr 2013 00:42:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-14T19:42:18.559-05:00</atom:updated><title>Jamberry Nails Winner!</title><description>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The winner of the Jamberry nail shields giveaway is &amp;nbsp;. . .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;h2 style="background-color: white; color: #6f6fc4; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 1.8em; font-weight: normal;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: 1.8em;"&gt;Random Integer Generator&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;div style="background-color: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.7em;"&gt;
Here are your random numbers:&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;pre class="data" style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 2em;"&gt;37
&lt;/pre&gt;
&lt;div style="background-color: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.7em;"&gt;
Timestamp: 2013-04-15 00:38:43 UTC&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="background-color: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.7em;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="background-color: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.7em;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;dt id="c9810971451348913" style="cursor: pointer; margin: 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0.25em; white-space: nowrap;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Blogger" class="comment-icon blogger-comment" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" style="background-image: url(http://www.blogger.com/img/cmt/comment_sprite.gif); background-position: -45px -117px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; border: 0px; height: 16px; width: 16px;" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/15277244574599191098" rel="nofollow" style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration: none;"&gt;Lynn&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;said...&lt;/dt&gt;
&lt;dd style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 0.75em; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="color: #202020; font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px;"&gt;
As a lover of reading, writing and all things word-related, I'd have to say my favorite design is the Alphabet one!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="comment-timestamp" style="color: #202020; display: inline-block; font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="background-color: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; line-height: 1.7em;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Congratulations, Lynn! Email me with your choice of design and I'll make sure it gets sent out right away. &amp;nbsp;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="background-color: white; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.7em;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/jamberry-nails-winner.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-118694538631200961</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 Apr 2013 00:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-14T19:34:19.118-05:00</atom:updated><title>My Stupid Insurance</title><description>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LYX8CGW9Fnk/UWtKtQVA5HI/AAAAAAAAKP0/dHjxR27hH-w/s1600/file0001053006156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="159" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LYX8CGW9Fnk/UWtKtQVA5HI/AAAAAAAAKP0/dHjxR27hH-w/s200/file0001053006156.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The biggest reason why I took my job down here in Florida was so I could provide medical insurance for my kids when my ex lost his job and thus his insurance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;First, it costs me just shy of $200 every two weeks in premiums. That works out to over $400 a month to simply carry insurance. Let’s say one of my kids has to go to the emergency room. That will cost me a $300 copay at the time of the visit and then my coinsurance amount will be billed to me. Of course while I'm sitting in the waiting room because my kid needs stitches, there will be dozens of people, for whom state insurance covers 100% of ER visits, using the ER as a doctor's office and waiting to be seen because they have the sniffles or a hangnail.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/14/my-stupid-insurance/" target="_blank"&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/my-stupid-insurance.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LYX8CGW9Fnk/UWtKtQVA5HI/AAAAAAAAKP0/dHjxR27hH-w/s72-c/file0001053006156.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-1077685969734420399</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Apr 2013 02:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-11T21:24:13.102-05:00</atom:updated><title>Some Things Never Change</title><description>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N9aV6UV537U/UWdv-9ib5QI/AAAAAAAAKPk/foaqBcKvIM0/s1600/photo5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N9aV6UV537U/UWdv-9ib5QI/AAAAAAAAKPk/foaqBcKvIM0/s200/photo5.jpg" width="148" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;My third grader, Clayton made the A honor roll again for the third quarter. He's come a long way from the kid who used to get in trouble all the time in kindergarten and first grade. I'll never forget the day I picked him up from kindergarten and asked him, "How were you today? Did you get in trouble?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;He answered, "Nope, I was good."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Then why is your teacher walking out to the car?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"I don't know, go drive, drive, DRIVE!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Yep, that's my Clay. He's the comedian of the family and in&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;family, that's really saying something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/11/some-things-never-change/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/some-things-never-change.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N9aV6UV537U/UWdv-9ib5QI/AAAAAAAAKPk/foaqBcKvIM0/s72-c/photo5.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-5452514273248333419</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Apr 2013 01:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-09T20:50:58.275-05:00</atom:updated><title>Spelling Tests</title><description>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Clay usually gets 100% on his spelling tests, however Clay capitalized every word on this test for some reason. His teacher corrected him and made him erase each capital letter. Then, because apparently I never outgrew my "attitude problem", I felt the need to correct his teacher. I just couldn't help myself. She'll probably retire so she doesn't get Brooklyn, and need to deal with me another year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NrNPUvHBt8A/UWS_vbDuo3I/AAAAAAAAKPU/CETj49rMa3c/s1600/homework3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NrNPUvHBt8A/UWS_vbDuo3I/AAAAAAAAKPU/CETj49rMa3c/s400/homework3.jpg" width="297" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/" target="_blank"&gt;Can't get enough? See what Dawn is up to over at Babble!&lt;/a&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/spelling-tests.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NrNPUvHBt8A/UWS_vbDuo3I/AAAAAAAAKPU/CETj49rMa3c/s72-c/homework3.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>9</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-3882582553936041223</guid><pubDate>Tue, 09 Apr 2013 02:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-08T21:01:25.213-05:00</atom:updated><title>Things Happen for a Reason</title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pvLL_HfwI2o/UWN1-j0t4xI/AAAAAAAAKPE/-LCAsmju38Q/s1600/PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pvLL_HfwI2o/UWN1-j0t4xI/AAAAAAAAKPE/-LCAsmju38Q/s320/PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I sat on the edge of my seat at Savannah's water polo game. My stomach was in a knot. I couldn't stop wringing my hands. The game was tied 10-10. Savannah had scored 4 of those points. The clock counted down and I held my breath, waiting to see if the game would go into overtime.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;I've always said that I believe things happen for a reason. In fact, it's the first line in the first book I wrote. Still, for some reason, believing this and having faith that it is true seem to be two different things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/08/things-happen-for-a-reason/" target="_blank"&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/things-happen-for-reason.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pvLL_HfwI2o/UWN1-j0t4xI/AAAAAAAAKPE/-LCAsmju38Q/s72-c/PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-1712735858397295138</guid><pubDate>Fri, 05 Apr 2013 12:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-05T07:57:34.242-05:00</atom:updated><title>7 Ways to Ruin Your Kids</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E9uJCo85lMo/UV7KDw01_5I/AAAAAAAAKO0/tnEFPNusSnQ/s1600/05-27-2011-Meehan-027B-300x199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="211" mta="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E9uJCo85lMo/UV7KDw01_5I/AAAAAAAAKO0/tnEFPNusSnQ/s320/05-27-2011-Meehan-027B-300x199.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I’m frequently asked, “How do you do it? How does a single mom of six kids take care of everyone? Your kids are so well-behaved; how did you teach them how to act?” Well, wait no more. I’ve come up with 7 key points that every parent needs to know. &lt;em&gt;This&lt;/em&gt; is how you parent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/04/7-ways-to-ruin-your-kids/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/7-ways-to-ruin-your-kids.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E9uJCo85lMo/UV7KDw01_5I/AAAAAAAAKO0/tnEFPNusSnQ/s72-c/05-27-2011-Meehan-027B-300x199.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-6299711203579175025</guid><pubDate>Thu, 04 Apr 2013 20:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-04T15:28:58.662-05:00</atom:updated><title>Jamberry Nail Shields are the Hottest!</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mPlICYG-W_c/UV2pJj73yaI/AAAAAAAAKOM/JED3llzF9J0/s1600/YA12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mPlICYG-W_c/UV2pJj73yaI/AAAAAAAAKOM/JED3llzF9J0/s200/YA12.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Savannah is addicted to Pinterest, always looking for cool new nail polish ideas. I love the way my nails look when they're decorated, but I hate when I spend the time to polish my nails only to have them start chipping a day or two later. Not to mention the fact that I'm apparently way too impatient to let my nails thoroughly dry after painting them and I always, &lt;i&gt;always&lt;/i&gt; end up smudging them. And, of course, I don't have the money to go to the salon for professional manicures.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kq9e9YOIPwI/UV2pO2hMdmI/AAAAAAAAKOY/F-AuYZvhQ0g/s1600/OP01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kq9e9YOIPwI/UV2pO2hMdmI/AAAAAAAAKOY/F-AuYZvhQ0g/s200/OP01.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Enter &lt;a href="http://www.coatsofcharm.jamberrynails.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Jamberry nail shields&lt;/a&gt;. These things are pretty cool! You can apply these nail shields quickly and easily and unlike nail lacquer, you don't have to wait for them to dry. And they stay on a long, long time! Brooklyn's and my nail shields lasted for more than 2 weeks. Savannah's didn't stay on as long, but then again she spends several hours in the pool every day for water polo so we didn't expect hers to stay on that well.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IR8_wXQC_dY/UV2pb2aqGtI/AAAAAAAAKOc/ImqArW0NSb0/s1600/FT10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IR8_wXQC_dY/UV2pb2aqGtI/AAAAAAAAKOc/ImqArW0NSb0/s200/FT10.jpg" width="185" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;There are so many awesomely cute designs from which to choose! There's definitely something for everyone. That was the hardest part about Jamberry nail shields - narrowing down my favorites to choose a design! I think I'm going to have to order those cute little palm tree designs next! And now you can even create your own custom design! With Jamberry's Nail Art Studio, you can upload a picture and created your own personalized nail shields!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qJt-wRBVdaY/UV2pjWGmB6I/AAAAAAAAKOk/ao87qhZ70QU/s1600/SP01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qJt-wRBVdaY/UV2pjWGmB6I/AAAAAAAAKOk/ao87qhZ70QU/s200/SP01.jpg" width="185" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Each sheet costs $15 and most people get 2-3 applications per sheet. I know a person who has short nails and gets 4 applications from a sheet which makes each application less than $4! Way cheaper than any manicure! Plus, right now when you buy 3 sheets, you get the 4th for free so it's even cheaper!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;My friend Rebecca, a Jamberry consultant is offering a giveaway right now. Leave me a comment here with your favorite style from her &lt;a href="http://www.coatsofcharm.jamberrynails.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Jamberry website&lt;/a&gt; and you'll be entered to win a FREE SET of nail shields. And everyone who takes advantage of the BUY 3/GET 1 FREE offer, will be entered in a second drawing for a free set of nail shields!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I'll choose a random winner next Friday, April 12. Make sure you 
include contact information in case you win! Good luck!&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/jamberry-nail-shields-are-hottest.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mPlICYG-W_c/UV2pJj73yaI/AAAAAAAAKOM/JED3llzF9J0/s72-c/YA12.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>38</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-7781640601690459834</guid><pubDate>Wed, 03 Apr 2013 00:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-02T19:56:04.748-05:00</atom:updated><title>What Comes Around . . .</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F2bOCVgOU_U/UVt91FhGZvI/AAAAAAAAKN8/jcFG5Wp3S9c/s1600/file000940170783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F2bOCVgOU_U/UVt91FhGZvI/AAAAAAAAKN8/jcFG5Wp3S9c/s200/file000940170783.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I believe that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. I also believe that bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. It's pretty much a crapshoot as to what you're going to get. "Momma always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." Still, I think way more good comes to people who are inherently good. We're talking about karma here. Which probably explains what happened to me yesterday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/02/what-comes-around/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/what-comes-around.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F2bOCVgOU_U/UVt91FhGZvI/AAAAAAAAKN8/jcFG5Wp3S9c/s72-c/file000940170783.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-7541060912735762267</guid><pubDate>Tue, 02 Apr 2013 03:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-04-01T22:14:04.130-05:00</atom:updated><title>Google Nose How to Have Fun</title><description>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2GPJKdRHiy4/UVpMcmf4pMI/AAAAAAAAKNs/QOuD1e7iM9g/s1600/file000645417269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2GPJKdRHiy4/UVpMcmf4pMI/AAAAAAAAKNs/QOuD1e7iM9g/s200/file000645417269.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;My 18-year-old son and I were sitting on the couch, chatting this evening while I worked on a blog post when he suddenly demanded, "Search bananas!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"What?" I asked. I mean, it's not unusual for Austin to yell some strange things out of the blue, but I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Search Google for bananas, or campfires, or oranges!" he repeated excitedly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Um why?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Just do it!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Knowing that the conversation would never end unless I Googled&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;bananas&lt;/em&gt;, I typed it in the search box. And this is what came up:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/04/01/google-nose-how-to-have-fun/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/04/google-nose-how-to-have-fun.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2GPJKdRHiy4/UVpMcmf4pMI/AAAAAAAAKNs/QOuD1e7iM9g/s72-c/file000645417269.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-4441423076386201470</guid><pubDate>Wed, 20 Mar 2013 02:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-03-19T21:59:54.576-05:00</atom:updated><title>Why You Should Never Sneak Chocolate</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wR7Iq-CUV6E/UUkmD9HDiRI/AAAAAAAAKNc/jj3ypMSCvfg/s1600/28352_405914880115_2277362_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wR7Iq-CUV6E/UUkmD9HDiRI/AAAAAAAAKNc/jj3ypMSCvfg/s200/28352_405914880115_2277362_n.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Some people drown their sorrows in drugs or alcohol. Some turn to the gym in times of stress. Still others take up yoga or listening to recordings of humpback whales to relax when things get tense. Me? I turn to chocolate. Or cookies. Or coconut cake. Or brownies. Or well, pretty much anything in the dessert family. My name is Dawn Meehan and I have an addiction to refined sugar and carbohydrates.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;This year I feel stressed out from my job. I told my boss I'd rather lose my house, live in a cardboard box, and eat dirt than to go back to work there in the fall which is really saying a lot since I'm not entirely certain I can live without the aforementioned dessert fixe on a regular basis. Still, I suppose if I'm not stressed out from my job, I won't need those chocolate fixes and I can make do nicely with the dirt diet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;On the way home from work today, in an effort to destressify before picking up my kiddos, I blasted Duran Duran as I cruised along with my windows open. Sometimes you're just in a Duran Duran kinda mood. I was feeling better as I drove, the wind whipping my hair around and the scent of orange blossoms from a nearby grove filling my nose. I turned the radio up a little louder and sang off-key because I had no kids in the car to make fun of me. Then I got behind someone driving 20 mph in a 45 zone and slammed on my brakes. In a huff, I muttered something about buttmunch drivers and maneuvered my van around the Caprice. As I passed the car, I glance down to see if it was an idiot texting or a senior who couldn't see over the steering wheel and had the reflexes of a depressed sloth. That's the thing about Florida - you get the nice weather, but you pay for it in other ways. Like sharing the road with the bingo crowd who also migrate south to enjoy the nice weather.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Feeling stressed out once again, I reached for the candy bar stashed in my purse for emergency situations - hurricanes, nuclear war, getting stuck behind the &lt;i&gt;Where's the Beef&lt;/i&gt; lady. I scarfed the chocolate while being very careful not to drop any little chocolate shavings on my light-colored pants. The secret to successfully sneaking chocolate is to make sure your kids don't hear you open the wrapper, and that you don't leave behind any evidence like chocolate smeared across your pants.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;When I arrived at the school, I hopped out of my van, eager to scoop up my kids and hear about their day. I was feeling pretty good about myself. My hair lacked its usual Roseanne Roseannadanna look and was freshly straightened and smoothed. I was wearing a cute new top and a pair of pants I hadn't been able to fit into for nearly a year. I sauntered into the school, shoulders back, head held high knowing that anyone crossing my path was bound to whisper to their friends, "Who IS that amazing woman?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I smiled at the YMCA director and chatted with her, giving her my usual countdown to the weekend. "Two more days!" I said. We chatted for a minute, then I looked at a dad waiting for his son. I smiled. He gave me an odd look. He must be trying to refrain from throwing himself at me because I look so good today. Brooklyn ran out and started chattering about her day. I made a brilliant reply then glanced up at the dad to make sure he heard how witty and wonderful I am. Did he just raise his eyebrows and smirk? I can't tell if that's a good look or he's scared of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Brooklyn and I moved toward the door as Clayton rounded the corner and met us. "Hey Clay! Did you have a good day?" I asked as we headed out to the car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;He gave me a quizzical look and asked, "Is that chocolate on your face?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Huh? Chocolate?" I asked.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Yeah. Did you have chocolate? What's on your face?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I ran to the mirror and looked and sure enough there was chocolate smeared across my face. I don't mean a little spot of chocolate that might be mistaken for lip gloss or a freckle or even a booger. Nope, I had enough chocolate on my upper lip to look like Hitler. I couldn't have gotten more junk on my face if I'd tried! I groaned. So &lt;i&gt;that's&lt;/i&gt; why I was getting odd looks!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Great. Now I have to explain why I had chocolate and didn't save any for the kids. And, more importantly, I can never pick my kids up from school again. Yep, I am one class act.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Can't get enough? See what Dawn is up to over at &lt;a href="http://babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/" target="_blank"&gt;Babble&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/03/why-you-should-never-sneak-chocolate.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wR7Iq-CUV6E/UUkmD9HDiRI/AAAAAAAAKNc/jj3ypMSCvfg/s72-c/28352_405914880115_2277362_n.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-7551368779045103275</guid><pubDate>Tue, 19 Mar 2013 01:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-03-18T20:04:49.177-05:00</atom:updated><title>Don't go to Sleep</title><description>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Some families encourage and uplift one another. Some families spend time listening to each other. Some people respect each member of their family. I've been told that some families are actually nice to each other. In my family, however . . . Well, let's put it this way - it's probably not the best idea to fall asleep before your siblings. Or your mother for that matter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3XwPG7RCj-s/UUe38XQydrI/AAAAAAAAKNE/a4TdPtZm9WA/s1600/photo9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3XwPG7RCj-s/UUe38XQydrI/AAAAAAAAKNE/a4TdPtZm9WA/s320/photo9.jpg" width="239" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I6DaSM4jCoc/UUe4CG9pp-I/AAAAAAAAKNM/pY_WCmixAxM/s1600/photo12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I6DaSM4jCoc/UUe4CG9pp-I/AAAAAAAAKNM/pY_WCmixAxM/s320/photo12.jpg" width="238" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Yeah. Sorry about that kiddo. But really, who could resist? Hmmm, I should probably sleep with one eye open from now on, huh?&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/03/dont-go-to-sleep.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3XwPG7RCj-s/UUe38XQydrI/AAAAAAAAKNE/a4TdPtZm9WA/s72-c/photo9.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-4834616740650635046</guid><pubDate>Thu, 14 Mar 2013 01:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-03-13T20:16:05.961-05:00</atom:updated><title>Why Being Left Out Can be a Good Thing</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/03/13/why-being-left-out-can-be-a-good-thing/file3111258685095/" rel="attachment wp-att-3554" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="file3111258685095" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-3554" height="200" src="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/files/2013/03/file3111258685095-240x300.jpg" width="160" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I wrote a post about how my son took his little sister to the annual &lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/03/10/and-then-sometimes-they-surprise-you/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;father/daughter dance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; at her school. It just happened to work out for him to take her, but I was prepared to occupy my daughter with alternative activities had she not been able to go. And last year I wrote a post about how my other daughter &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2012/04/16/when-youre-mom-and-dad/" target="_blank"&gt;didn't attend the dance&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I got comments on both posts from people who were shocked and disappointed that a school would hold an event like a "father/daughter dance" in this day and age, knowing that some people would be left out because there are so many complicated families. In fact, it seemed to be the general consensus. But I have to disagree.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/03/13/why-being-left-out-can-be-a-good-thing/" target="_blank"&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/03/why-being-left-out-can-be-good-thing.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-3608198726152258018</guid><pubDate>Mon, 11 Mar 2013 02:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-03-10T21:09:08.001-05:00</atom:updated><title>And Then Sometimes They Surprise You</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/03/10/and-then-sometimes-they-surprise-you/64800_10151677746815116_1258777484_n/" rel="attachment wp-att-3542" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img alt="64800_10151677746815116_1258777484_n" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-3542" height="200" src="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/files/2013/03/64800_10151677746815116_1258777484_n-223x300.jpg" width="148" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Recently I’ve had a problem with Jackson thinking he’s 40. He’s 14. He’s gotten into this habit of running off with friends whenever he wants. A couple weeks ago, I gave him permission to walk downtown with his friend. I told him to be back in half an hour for dinner. Apparently “be home for dinner” translated to “go out to dinner with your friend and his family and don’t bother asking first and don’t answer your phone when I call or text until you’re halfway through dessert” in Jackson’s language. I was fed up with that so I grounded him for a week. A week of not going out with his friends was pure torture for Jackson and I thought he’d learned the lesson. I was wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/03/10/and-then-sometimes-they-surprise-you/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/03/and-then-sometimes-they-surprise-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732255176396931795.post-4025283044891084612</guid><pubDate>Fri, 08 Mar 2013 03:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-03-07T21:11:27.958-06:00</atom:updated><title>How to Live in the Happiest Place on Earth</title><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-51e1RolFgUE/UTlVjvYMz_I/AAAAAAAAKMs/rEJRDa8DKVs/s1600/121a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-51e1RolFgUE/UTlVjvYMz_I/AAAAAAAAKMs/rEJRDa8DKVs/s200/121a.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;My friend Ally and I spent the day in the Magic Kingdom on Sunday. I generally visit the Disney World parks with my kids, seeing the place through their eyes and finding it nothing short of magical. On Sunday I had the opportunity to view the Magic Kingdom through the critical eyes of my friend who is a director of human resources for a major corporation. And you know what I learned? Disney World truly&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;is&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;the happiest place on earth. Companies like Delta, IBM, Chrysler, and GM have spent lots of money to learn the secret to Disney’s success from the Disney Institute which has been teaching companies about customer service and brand loyalty since 1986. Here, for the bargain price of free, I’ll tell you how you can incorporate some of Disney’s strategies in your own lives at home or at work or wherever you are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/babble-voices/because-im-the-mom/2013/03/07/how-to-live-in-the-happiest-place-on-earth/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;CONTINUE READING HERE!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><link>http://mom2my6pack.blogspot.com/2013/03/how-to-live-in-happiest-place-on-earth.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dawn)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-51e1RolFgUE/UTlVjvYMz_I/AAAAAAAAKMs/rEJRDa8DKVs/s72-c/121a.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></item></channel></rss>
