<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183</id><updated>2012-01-26T22:49:08.248-06:00</updated><category term='meme'/><category term='Day to Day'/><category term='personal training'/><category term='Crafts'/><category term='stress'/><category term='Odd'/><category term='baby'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='holidays'/><category term='family'/><category term='random'/><category term='house'/><category term='parenting'/><category term='weekend'/><category term='depressed'/><category term='lessons learned'/><title type='text'>Mutt-A-Roo</title><subtitle type='html'>My name is Mutt.  I'm a Wife, Mother, Sister and Friend - Not necessarily in that order.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Mutt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08830101037328070617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>194</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8385827335696639050</id><published>2012-01-26T22:43:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-26T22:49:08.260-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day to Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>So.  How Have You Been?</title><content type='html'>I have been trying.  Really.  It just so happens I try very hard for about a week, maybe more and then...something happens.  It is nothing big or exciting.  Just...something.  Then I stop trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in the process of starting some serious thinking.  When I read that I picture some giant wheel I have to crank to get moving.  It starts so slowly, but with time and effort it spins smoothly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind is a jumble.  So many thoughts.  Some are helpful and lead to more good thinking.  Some are strange and just make me feel fuzzy.  An outside opinion might help.  It has not helped in the past, but this is not the past anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of looking back to see what went wrong, I am trying to look forward to what will be right.  I wonder if it is possible to snap out of something today by dreaming of the future?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I found this blog again.  Maybe I will try using it for a while.  At least until...something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8385827335696639050?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8385827335696639050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8385827335696639050&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8385827335696639050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8385827335696639050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2012/01/so-how-have-you-been.html' title='So.  How Have You Been?'/><author><name>Mutt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08830101037328070617</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6990596861428722418</id><published>2011-03-18T21:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T21:29:52.961-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Tears, From Heaven</title><content type='html'>Something happened to someone I know.  We belong to a group together, but I don't really know much about the person.  Anyway.  Something quite devastating happened to them.  I cannot stop crying for them.  I cannot stop thinking about it.  I cannot stop agonizing over what would I do if it were me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do believe God has a plan for each of us.  We may never really know the plan, but we have been given spiritual gifts and a passion.  It is up to us to use those gifts.  We have free will.  We have the choice to say "I am not going to do that".  Anyway, there is a plan.  When something this awful happens to a human being, it is hard to say "thanks be to God". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not angry.  I am not sure what I am.  I guess at this point confusion and maybe disappointment reign.  I totally thought things would work out differently.  In my heart I had no doubt things would turn out OK.  It is not fair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My problem now is figuring out why this is getting to me.  I cannot even think about it without starting to cry.  Talking about it is out of the question.  I have been praying, trying to find what it is I should get out of this.  Why is this affecting me like it is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps this tragedy was too close to home?  Even though I do not know this person, this could have been my family.  This could have been me.  But.  So could a million other things.  I could have lived in Japan and just lost everything.  I could live in a country of war.  I live in a nice comfortable &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;American&lt;/span&gt; city.  I have a house, family, clothes, food, car and many more things.  So why does &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; story affect me so?  Am I meant to give or do something? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I am exhausted.  My body has been a little sick this week and I just cannot take one more ounce of pain.  I let myself cry because I think at some point I will be done.  Maybe I will never stop thinking of this person.  Maybe I have a bond with them.  Maybe I am meant to help in some way.  I just do not know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life will keep going.  Days will pass and summer will come and go and years will fade into the background.  Somewhere down the line we will have "moved on".  I don't want to live in fear that I will miss something.  I will open myself up for whatever may come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6990596861428722418?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6990596861428722418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6990596861428722418&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6990596861428722418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6990596861428722418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2011/03/tears-from-heaven.html' title='Tears, From Heaven'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7547973630657071229</id><published>2011-02-08T15:16:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T15:26:26.413-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day to Day'/><title type='text'>I. Am Alive!</title><content type='html'>I seem to be some kind of super busy despite not having a formal job.  This mom thing takes up a lot of time.  Neither of my children want to nap so I spend a fair amount of time trying to get them to sleep.  Then I am exhausted so nothing productive happens while they sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day to day it is amazing how much laundry piles up.  How many people live here?  Why do they wear so many clothes?  Most of my days are spent washing.  Laundry, dishes, walls, things, faces and bodies.  Wash, wash, wash. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like lately we have had a rash of doctor appointments.  One child has a hearing issue so we see an Audiologist on a semi-regular basis.  The other child has speech issues so we see a therapist for that too.  Add on eye, teeth and general body woes and we see a someone in the medical profession once a week, but more likely twice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I confess it has been a while since I've seen any sort of doctor.  I tell myself I am saving money, but when there is nothing wrong with me it seems silly to go in for a check up.  I did make an eye appointment.  It has been around 5 or so years since last I went.  Nothing is wrong, but it seemed to be the least dreadful appointment to make.  Do NOT get me started on the dentist.  I dislike the dentist.  My eyes are fine so check those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point I will need to start a health journey.  Something about hearing folks refer their stories as a journey is weird.  I get it, but I imagine you packing your bags and literally walking out your door on a journey.  I watch the television show about weight loss and they all talk about their weight loss journey.  Maybe it's me.  Anyway, I need to get healthy.  I drink too much soda and coffee.  I stay up too late.  I don't exercise enough (or at all if you are keeping score here).  Needless to say there are some things I can improve upon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps writing it all down is the way to go.  I'd like to photo document, but my camera is on the outs.  The funds are not yet available to get a new one.  If I can figure out how to get pictures from my phone to here then we are in business.  Baby steps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7547973630657071229?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7547973630657071229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7547973630657071229&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7547973630657071229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7547973630657071229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-am-alive.html' title='I. Am Alive!'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5608530902058960931</id><published>2010-05-25T22:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T23:04:04.885-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal training'/><title type='text'>Loser - Weight That Is</title><content type='html'>I am trying to get healthy. Trying. It is slow going, but each day I try to make a better choice along the way. Some days are good and some, well, not so good. After working out so many days I get tired and ready to throw in the towel. It takes a massive effort to push through the laziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fitting in time to workout doesn't sound like it would be that difficult. After all the gym has a child watch area. But packing a bag, getting there, doing the whole workout, showering and getting put back together takes too long. The kids mostly watch movies which aggravates me. If we have anything else planned in our day it takes every spare minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday I hope to work out at home and not have to rely on the gym. For now the gym is my motivation. I have spent money to go so I go. I wish my body would get into shape faster. The folks on Biggest Loser lose like 10 lbs per week (or a lot more). Granted they work out an insane amount and are restricted on what they can eat. I guess I'd lose that much too. I am waiting for my jeans to feel a bit looser. That will be the test for me. I want some of my clothes to fit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5608530902058960931?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5608530902058960931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5608530902058960931&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5608530902058960931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5608530902058960931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2010/05/loser-weight-that-is.html' title='Loser - Weight That Is'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5783649143137728234</id><published>2010-03-31T21:46:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T21:57:40.624-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>On My Mind</title><content type='html'>Wow.  Unused blog much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here are my thoughts in no specific order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be healthier and I am working on it slowly.  We will see how it goes.  So far the working out is OK.  The eating out is ridiculous.  I need to plan and prep some meals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vacation needs to happen to me soon.  I don't really mind where, but it must be relaxing.  Our anniversary is coming soon and we are thinking of a long weekend trip somewhere.  Maybe St. Louis or &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Branson&lt;/span&gt; or somewhere relatively close. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our bathroom needs to be repaired.  We now have the money and it's a matter of finding someone to do it.  We are not 100% certain what we'll do so we need someone flexible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids need a schedule.  They also need some discipline.  They are both getting into trouble at school for being too aggressive.  The brothers beat on each other and laugh at home.  It's not so funny at school.  I think if we have some set rules on what happens when you misbehave we'll get it taken care of.  I'm going to make a schedule so we have activities planned on days they are home.  They get bored and start wrestling to entertain themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our friends want to go to the pool this weekend.  I am in no way ready for a swimsuit.  Why don't I start preparing for this in October?  I am chubby and pasty white.  Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of want another baby.  Our situation is not a good one to have another baby.  We are struggling with the two we have, not to mention the family 'relations' aren't really happening either.  I wish things were running more smoothly here so this was a more viable option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm helping my sister work on her rental houses.  She says she'll pay me.  Husband says not to take money from her.  I work most of the day there and run home to get kids and get dinner, and all the evening stuff going.  There is really no time for things to get done at home.  I'm thinking I either need to not help as much or get paid.  I can't keep up with laundry and I keep forgetting things since I'm not home as much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want to go on a shopping trip.  I need some new clothes.  I would like to be in better shape first though.  I don't need to be stick thin, but a little less jiggle would be nice.  Again, I'm working on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easter is coming.  Good Friday then Easter.  Do you know the story?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5783649143137728234?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5783649143137728234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5783649143137728234&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5783649143137728234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5783649143137728234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2010/03/on-my-mind.html' title='On My Mind'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-1445097379615195737</id><published>2010-02-04T15:05:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T15:08:02.348-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crafts'/><title type='text'>More Handy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S2s2wRQu5FI/AAAAAAAAACw/yzhaWCCL6OI/s1600-h/100_3657.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434497578247840850" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S2s2wRQu5FI/AAAAAAAAACw/yzhaWCCL6OI/s320/100_3657.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here is another blanket.  I requested favorite colors and the answer was blue and blue.  This is white, blue and a denim mix striped together.  It just so happens this family is a fan of the Indy Colts, so it works well for both favorite color and team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, if you have a request leave me a comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-1445097379615195737?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/1445097379615195737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=1445097379615195737&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1445097379615195737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1445097379615195737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2010/02/more-handy.html' title='More Handy'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S2s2wRQu5FI/AAAAAAAAACw/yzhaWCCL6OI/s72-c/100_3657.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2637558887345525364</id><published>2010-02-04T13:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T14:15:54.594-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crafts'/><title type='text'>Handy Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S2sl_d4HGjI/AAAAAAAAACg/LiPxhn3RyEo/s1600-h/100_3655.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434479147634596402" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S2sl_d4HGjI/AAAAAAAAACg/LiPxhn3RyEo/s320/100_3655.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; OK, so I finished three of the four blankets I was making for Christmas, before Christmas.  The fourth is giving me fits.  I cannot find the motivation to finish it.  I spend a couple hours working on it and it's barely any progress.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Aack&lt;/span&gt;!  The farther into the year we get the more guilty I feel for not having it done.  My friends are understanding though.  The picture above is one of my favorites.  It's red, white and navy blue.  I really wanted to keep this one.  The picture upload thing doesn't seem to be working so I can't get the others to show up.  I'll post them later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Side note:  If you want me to make you one, for a small fee of course, I would be happy to.  Leave me a comment and we can talk color and patter.  It's crochet, not knitting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S2sl2UYHtGI/AAAAAAAAACY/Uckn88XjN6o/s1600-h/100_3659.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2637558887345525364?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2637558887345525364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2637558887345525364&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2637558887345525364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2637558887345525364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2010/02/handy-me.html' title='Handy Me'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S2sl_d4HGjI/AAAAAAAAACg/LiPxhn3RyEo/s72-c/100_3655.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5948521025646405557</id><published>2010-01-04T13:24:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T13:29:16.727-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Tired Boy</title><content type='html'>Somtimes he just needs his mommy.  This was at Peanuts Christmas program.  SF did a great job of being quiet and still and then at the end was just too worn out to be happy.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S0JBMbXrU-I/AAAAAAAAACQ/RzV05XtsqmQ/s1600-h/Kids_742.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422968583068799970" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S0JBMbXrU-I/AAAAAAAAACQ/RzV05XtsqmQ/s320/Kids_742.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5948521025646405557?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5948521025646405557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5948521025646405557&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5948521025646405557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5948521025646405557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2010/01/tired-boy.html' title='Tired Boy'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/S0JBMbXrU-I/AAAAAAAAACQ/RzV05XtsqmQ/s72-c/Kids_742.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2549809578441323036</id><published>2009-12-07T22:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T22:21:26.799-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day to Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>Raining.  Pouring.  Just Go Ahead and Kick Me</title><content type='html'>Good grief.  Charlie Brown seems to have it right.  For several weeks there was nothing pressing to do.  Life sort of moved at a snail pace.  Then.  I got sick.  After that it seems there is no stopping anything.  There was little down time today as I drove from place to place taking care of business.  Several hundred dollars later things have been put in order.  So what now?  A yeast infection.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;TMI&lt;/span&gt; anyone?  Suck it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.  This happens to me when I take antibiotics.  I forget &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt;.  Or at least, in my fever induced haze I forget to ask when the medicine I'm taking to make me better is going to do to me.  Just kick me while I'm down, no? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think if I had time to think about things too much I would be depressed.  As it is, there are things to do and places to go so I don't have a lot of time to dwell.  I guess that's good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The job situation is not going well.  I basically missed the Holiday hiring because I was not willing to work evenings and weekends.  At least I wasn't willing to work all of them.  One or two would have been okay.  So now what?  I'm not sure.  I think I have a job at a seasonal place, but it's been sort of a weird ride and I'm not sure if I actually have a job or if I'm just still in the running.  There is another option, but the more time that passes the more I think it's not going to work out at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm learning I have very high standards when it comes to manners.  I guess I'm willing to slide on some things, but if I say I will call at a certain time I will.  Especially if it was a business deal.  As in, the boss was supposed to call me between 1 and 2 and at 5 something they finally leave me a message saying they are busy.  Really?  I didn't get that from the not calling.  It doesn't give me much faith in the business that certain aspects of it are run so loose.  Bottom line is I'm not holding my breath.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2549809578441323036?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2549809578441323036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2549809578441323036&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2549809578441323036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2549809578441323036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/12/raining-pouring-just-go-ahead-and-kick.html' title='Raining.  Pouring.  Just Go Ahead and Kick Me'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7510520479980575748</id><published>2009-11-30T20:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T20:52:27.293-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>A 9 I Tell You!</title><content type='html'>Doctor said it's Strep.  On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the worst he has seen, I'm a 9.  So glad I can excel at something.  He gave me a super antibiotic shot, follow up pills and steroids.  Mama's going to be high for a while.  I do feel better.  I managed to eat some toast for dinner.  Actually, this is the best diet.  All I've had today is a cup of jello and a piece of toast.  Let the pounds drop.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Yeah&lt;/span&gt;, right.  Once my throat shrinks to normal size I am EATING.  I am so hungry, but the pain of swallowing is just not worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my kids.  I have been staying away from them as much as possible so I don't get them sick too.  I missed volleyball tonight too.  I'm missing all sorts of good stuff.  Why is it when we most need to get things done we get wiped out like this?  I guess it's really when I need the most rest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7510520479980575748?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7510520479980575748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7510520479980575748&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7510520479980575748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7510520479980575748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/9-i-tell-you.html' title='A 9 I Tell You!'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6702145193292791572</id><published>2009-11-29T20:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T20:49:36.333-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Still sick.  I have a lot to do and no time to be out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6702145193292791572?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6702145193292791572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6702145193292791572&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6702145193292791572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6702145193292791572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/still-sick.html' title=''/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2296076926399748844</id><published>2009-11-28T21:21:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T21:21:51.346-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Home.  Sick. Going to bed.  Stories to come.  Goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2296076926399748844?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2296076926399748844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2296076926399748844&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2296076926399748844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2296076926399748844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/home.html' title=''/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8652550921740739395</id><published>2009-11-27T19:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T19:28:06.484-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Children screaming.  Adults wiped out. Still eating too much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8652550921740739395?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8652550921740739395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8652550921740739395&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8652550921740739395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8652550921740739395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/children-screaming.html' title=''/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8535098341902286516</id><published>2009-11-26T21:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T21:28:11.525-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ate a bunch.  Played games.  Family is crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8535098341902286516?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8535098341902286516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8535098341902286516&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8535098341902286516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8535098341902286516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/ate-bunch.html' title=''/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-4809258262586230938</id><published>2009-11-25T22:49:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T22:49:45.808-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>At my sisters. Good food. Played cards.  Peanut up too late. More family tomorrow.  More food.  I will be more fat.&lt;p&gt;Happy Thanksgiving!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-4809258262586230938?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/4809258262586230938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=4809258262586230938&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4809258262586230938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4809258262586230938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/at-my-sisters.html' title=''/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7866509464631713316</id><published>2009-11-24T19:58:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T20:03:07.429-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>Over the River and Through the Woods</title><content type='html'>I sent my oldest child off with Grandma today.  This is the first time he will spend the night there without us.  I'm nervous.  I think everything will go perfectly lovely, but my mother raised kids a while ago and things have changed.  My kid is unique and I'm not sure she will appreciate that.  He talks, a lot.  If you can go with the flow it can be amusing.  Anything less and it's annoying.  He likes to make decisions.  I think she is more of a here you go kind of person, where he would rather get some options.  Maybe the fun of being on an adventure will overrule any problems. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also concerned about him sleeping.  He had a rough night last night and I hope that doesn't affect him tonight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, the house is quiet.  The little one is still glued to me, but is sleeping now.  Husband is off playing soccer so it's really just me, typing away.  Click, clack.  Moo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, tomorrow we are off to my sister's house.  It will be overwhelming to say the least, but hopefully we have a good time.  We'll be having a birthday party as well so that should mix things up a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7866509464631713316?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7866509464631713316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7866509464631713316&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7866509464631713316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7866509464631713316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/over-river-and-through-woods.html' title='Over the River and Through the Woods'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8899117602753835619</id><published>2009-11-23T22:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T22:44:15.547-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd'/><title type='text'>I Want Mommy</title><content type='html'>I guess it's true about kids wanting mommy.  Peanut was crying and Husband ran up to his room.  Everything was quiet so I hung back for a minute.  After about two or maybe three minutes I went up to see what was happening.  Peanut was sitting on the edge of his bed laughing hysterically.  I'm not sure he was awake.  We tried talking to him, but it didn't phase him.  He just kept laughing.  He had also wet his pants.  I started to take off his wet clothes and the laughing turned to crying.  With only his pajama top on he went to sit on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;daddy's&lt;/span&gt; lap.  I started to make the bed and clean the wet spot on the floor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy was sitting in the chair with Peanut on his lap and the comforter wrapped around them.  He wasn't saying much but was clearly exhausted.  As I was making the bed Peanut started to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;whimper&lt;/span&gt; and reach for me.  Daddy and I switched places.  I asked him if he was hurt as he occasionally wakes up with leg pains or cramps.  He nodded that something hurt, but couldn't tell me or point to what it was.  Finally, I figured he had a bad dream so I asked and he nodded.  I asked if that made him feel yucky and again he nodded.  I guess he didn't know how to say he was bummed out because of his dream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started talking about our upcoming family gathering and how fun it would be to see all the family.  He seemed to perk up a bit at the idea of Thanksgiving and seeing everyone.  He doesn't know it yet, but he gets to go home with Grandma tomorrow to spend the night there.  I think he will be wild with excitement.  It's still a secret so I just told how much fun the other stuff would be.  He promptly fell asleep on me.  We did manage to get the rest of his pajamas on before all that so at least all I had to do was get him in bed.  That was no small task since he weighs a ton and a half when asleep.  Plus he was wrapped up in the comforter so I couldn't really get him in bed with the covers straight.  Oh well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep well baby.  Sweet dreams.  I am very thankful we had something fun coming up to cheer him up.  Poor guy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8899117602753835619?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8899117602753835619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8899117602753835619&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8899117602753835619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8899117602753835619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-want-mommy.html' title='I Want Mommy'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-760890462953473595</id><published>2009-11-22T19:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T19:25:09.647-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Bruiser</title><content type='html'>We went to a birthday party today.  Peanut was dressed at Superman and looked great.  It was a come as your favorite Super Hero kind of party.  It was pretty neat as the parents went all out for decorations and such.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, most of the others had left and a few of us were in the back yard playing soccer, football and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Frisbee&lt;/span&gt;.  Next thing you know Peanut is crying little tears of blood from his right eye.  Don't panic, it was just a drop or maybe two.  The clear tears were plentiful.  We finally got some of the story.  The other kid threw the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Frisbee&lt;/span&gt; at Peanut and it hit him in the eye.  It was sort of a big &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Nerf&lt;/span&gt; thing, but I think the kid was really close and he can throw quite hard.  So, his eye is all puffy and red.  I think we'll call the eye doctor tomorrow just to make sure no lasting damage was done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-760890462953473595?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/760890462953473595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=760890462953473595&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/760890462953473595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/760890462953473595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/bruiser.html' title='Bruiser'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-1984161665180055547</id><published>2009-11-21T20:24:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T20:29:55.851-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>He and I?  Me and Him? Us. Together.</title><content type='html'>I got to spend some one on one time with Peanut today.  I had some errands to do and he wanted to go with me.  Little did I know he really should have stayed home to nap.  Oh well.  He stayed happy until just before bedtime.  That's when he started to lose his marbles.  We went to a little craft fair and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;.  He did great.  I forget how entertaining he is.  He is always talking, asking questions and telling me stories.  Basically, the kid never stops talking.  As long as he is happy it's cute.  Once he is cranky it gets tiring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got to see Santa today.  He wants a skateboard and a scooter.  Santa said those were fun things and gave him a candy cane.  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Yah&lt;/span&gt;.  I'm not sure what I would say to a four year old asking for those things.  The kid is not really all that coordinated either.  He has fallen down just standing there.  I guess they have to learn things sometime.  We'll see what happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is a friends birthday party.  The theme is the Justice League.  Peanut will be Superman.  I'm not sure about SF.  I guess I didn't plan anything for him.  We do have a Batman outfit though.  Maybe he can wear that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-1984161665180055547?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/1984161665180055547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=1984161665180055547&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1984161665180055547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1984161665180055547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/he-and-i-me-and-him-us-together.html' title='He and I?  Me and Him? Us. Together.'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2086869848930773126</id><published>2009-11-20T22:04:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T22:09:53.441-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day to Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Crafty</title><content type='html'>I like to think I am a creative person.  However, I really just have good intentions.  There is a craft fair this weekend and I somehow volunteered to make some things to sell.  The items are not difficult to make, just tedious.  After the first few I was tired of making them.  So I didn't make very many things and I feel guilty about it.  I'm not even sure people will buy any of it.  I'm not sure what to think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I step back and look at some of the things, they look really nice.  I wish I would have concentrated and made more.  Guilt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate guilt.  It's such an &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;awful&lt;/span&gt; feeling to be so aware of how you messed up.  No one else is to blame and when you realize that, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;blerg&lt;/span&gt;, it feels yucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was lovely today to be free from the children and get some things done.  I couldn't really focus on any one thing because I felt like I had to do so much.  Then when I got SF the teacher said he wasn't feeling well.  Guilt Strikes Again!!  I sent him back because he seemed &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;.  No fever for a few days, eating &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, pooping &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, sleeping &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;.  Then she said he didn't eat much, didn't nap and had loose poops.  Great.  She must think I'm oblivious to my own &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;childs&lt;/span&gt; sickness.  Guilt.  I felt so bad.  I hope we can perk him up this weekend.  Next week promises to be quite busy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2086869848930773126?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2086869848930773126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2086869848930773126&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2086869848930773126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2086869848930773126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/crafty.html' title='Crafty'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-515043837407071338</id><published>2009-11-19T16:53:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T16:56:45.101-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Day to Day'/><title type='text'>Wall-E Was On</title><content type='html'>Movie and television day at our house.  Had lunch with Husband and will have date with him once sitter gets here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posting everyday really brings out the trivial details.  I wish I had time to sit and write something amazing.  I wish I had something amazing to write about.  I'll work on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is a school day for both kids.  Good golly I'm ready for it.  My last me day was last Friday and I'm starting to feel it.  I really do need time for me to fully function.  Too bad I have a list of projects to work on.  Oh well.  At least I can get stuff done and feel like a contributing member of society.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-515043837407071338?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/515043837407071338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=515043837407071338&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/515043837407071338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/515043837407071338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/wall-e-was-on.html' title='Wall-E Was On'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5384290064361700100</id><published>2009-11-18T21:21:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T21:24:47.266-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>It is Cold and Wet</title><content type='html'>Rain, rain, go away.  Or just turn into snow already.  But please don't be a sheet of ice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like heated seats in my car.  I like hot/warm drinks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brain is full.  I think I need to be done for the day.  SF is still kind of sick and for sure clingy so it's been a tiring day.  Tomorrow is going to be movie day at our house.  We shall wear pajamas and watch television and movies.  Perhaps I'll even make popcorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was supposed to be a fun night tomorrow, but I think that has been cancelled.  I'm not sure.  I'm never sure.  None of my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;conversations&lt;/span&gt; ever seem to get resolved.  I'm getting tired of living with uncertainty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Night Peanut.  Good Night &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;SweetFace&lt;/span&gt;.  I love you both.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5384290064361700100?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5384290064361700100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5384290064361700100&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5384290064361700100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5384290064361700100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/it-is-cold-and-wet.html' title='It is Cold and Wet'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8150393754557149759</id><published>2009-11-17T20:25:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T20:36:59.490-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><title type='text'>Tis the Season</title><content type='html'>This time of year starts to suck the money out of our bank account faster than, well, some money sucking thing.  Anyway, once October hits we have many birthdays and Holidays that seem to cost a lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;October has two birthdays.&lt;br /&gt;November has four birthdays, plus money for food at Thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;December has one birthday plus all the gifts.  We have family, immediate friends, Church groups, Moms groups, business groups, school teachers (both kids this year) and also donation gifts (Toys for Tots, etc.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if you allow only $5 for each person we're still going to hit over $300 easily.  So what to do.  Well.  This year I'm making lots of things.  Supplies were purchased several months ago to spread out the cost through the year instead of focusing on December.  I don't plan to make too many food gifts as I don't want to have to eat jars of cookies.  I think instead I'll do coffee or hot chocolate or hot punch and a nice set of mugs.  The dollar store has some nice ones as does &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;.  I picked up three for a dollar each at &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;.  I can make gallons of punch for less than $10.  I'm also going to make homemade ornaments for folks.  They are really cute too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, my suggestion if you have lots of gifts to get is to make what you can, buy inexpensive items you know they want/will like.  I have a friend that would kill for a gift card to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Quicktrip&lt;/span&gt;.  Even just a $5 card will make that person happy.  I'd rather give what they really want than to spend $30 on a sweater they may never wear.  It's the thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what I want for Christmas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want new tennis shoes, new volleyball shoes, a hand chopper thing (I need to find a link - too lazy now) or a gift card to Starbucks.  $3.25 for a white chocolate mocha is too rich for me.  I use the Swiss Miss stuff you can mix with milk.  It's no where near the same, but it's cheap and pretty good.  I would also really, really, really like a job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8150393754557149759?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8150393754557149759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8150393754557149759&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8150393754557149759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8150393754557149759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/tis-season.html' title='Tis the Season'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6196436325620903302</id><published>2009-11-16T22:07:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T22:11:47.141-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Random</title><content type='html'>Baby sick.  101.4  Big one seems OK so far.  I am tired.  Lot's of holding a heavy boy today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have applied at so many jobs I no longer remember where I have applied.  Please, someone hire me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am running out of time to complete the projects I am working on.  I think I'm going to have to pick on and finish the rest later.  That's not too bad.  I'll see whose birthday is coming up next and the one that is last gets their project finished.  Or we can have Christmas sometime in July.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insurance plans are confusing.  I need a diagram or something.  All the plans are sort of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;pukey&lt;/span&gt;, but which one is the least &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;pukey&lt;/span&gt;?  Not sure.  Flip a coin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snow?  Seems like it could be happening very soon.  I'll make Hot Punch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6196436325620903302?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6196436325620903302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6196436325620903302&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6196436325620903302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6196436325620903302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/random.html' title='Random'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-9169155266458193215</id><published>2009-11-15T21:25:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T21:28:45.051-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>And the Chiefs Won</title><content type='html'>I like playing volleyball.  I wish I were better at it though.  The mistakes I make are usually so stupid.  Maybe it's an alertness issue?  I think if I would start exercising a bit other than once a week I would be better athletically.  Oh well.  I'm glad I get to play each week.  I do hope I still get to play on Monday too.  That league is more challenging and fun too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a nice day relaxing and not doing much.  Grandpa was here in the morning and the boys played with him for quite a while.  After he left we had lunch and round one of naps.  After that we played &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; with the boys.  That was actually a lot of fun.  Husband and Peanut were a team and SF and I were a team.  SF mostly wandered around the room playing, but he occasionally sat next to me.  All in all it was a good day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-9169155266458193215?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/9169155266458193215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=9169155266458193215&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/9169155266458193215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/9169155266458193215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/and-chiefs-won.html' title='And the Chiefs Won'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-4181316500220209868</id><published>2009-11-14T20:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T20:26:17.557-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weekend'/><title type='text'>Happy MBA</title><content type='html'>The event for today went well.  We have tons of food and will be eating &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;lunch meat&lt;/span&gt; for the rest of our lives.  Oh well.  I'll put it in the freezer.  The cake turned out good too.  Homemade chocolate cake.  Yum!  Lots of people came and hung out with Husband.  He had a great time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note...If you have a couple of 4 year &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt; playing downstairs with no one but a 9 year old to watch, trouble is coming.  It was really quiet and the 9 year old came up to ask if they should be getting wet.  We found the bathroom flooded.  The whole story has not yet spilled out, but my theory is they plugged the sink and kept the water going.  Instead of pulling the plug they just splashed the water everywhere.  All the walls are soaked, the floor and some seeped out to the next room.  Lucky for them it is a tile floor.  Also, it was in the basement so it's not too big a deal.  Oh well.  I can't believe the older child didn't know that was a bad idea.  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next project is to find a job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-4181316500220209868?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/4181316500220209868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=4181316500220209868&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4181316500220209868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4181316500220209868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/happy-mba.html' title='Happy MBA'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7057294706802526206</id><published>2009-11-13T21:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T21:52:53.315-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><title type='text'>Things To Do</title><content type='html'>Cleaned the house.&lt;br /&gt;Bought groceries.&lt;br /&gt;Bought other things.&lt;br /&gt;Made, ate and cleaned up dinner.&lt;br /&gt;Bathed kids.&lt;br /&gt;Watching Harry Potter #4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clean toilets.&lt;br /&gt;Prepare food.&lt;br /&gt;Bake cake.&lt;br /&gt;Buy ice.&lt;br /&gt;Entertain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7057294706802526206?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7057294706802526206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7057294706802526206&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7057294706802526206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7057294706802526206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/things-to-do.html' title='Things To Do'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-9194651840364427514</id><published>2009-11-12T22:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T22:48:28.887-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Very Much Like Monica</title><content type='html'>So I am getting panicky about the event this weekend.  Everything will be &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, because I am good in these situations.  I plan, I prepare and things turn out fine.  I invited several people and have not heard back from several of those several people.  I know they are coming, but it really irks me they have not at least mentioned they are coming.  You with me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while ago a friend of mine asked me if I was a perfectionist.  Have I told this story?  Anyway, I did not think it was true, but it is in some ways.  One of those ways is if I plan an event I have a mental movie image of how things should look and play out.  The reality is...it won't happen that way.  That is OK.  It's just hard to be loose and relaxed about it.  I mean, we could just order a dozen pizza and some beer from the local market and be fine.  That isn't what I wanted though.  That isn't the look and feel I want to pull off.  If I had my way, the house would be renovated first, but the line must be drawn somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is preparation day.  I will be cleaning, planning and preparing.  I'm tired now and I will be more tired on Saturday evening about 8:00 pm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Yes, Monica from Friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-9194651840364427514?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/9194651840364427514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=9194651840364427514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/9194651840364427514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/9194651840364427514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/very-much-like-monica.html' title='Very Much Like Monica'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6805979686949226696</id><published>2009-11-11T21:28:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T21:43:13.870-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><title type='text'>Click, I Took Some Pics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvuBxkmPWvI/AAAAAAAAACI/Nc84X_8Borg/s1600-h/Texas_0135.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403054866598681330" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvuBxkmPWvI/AAAAAAAAACI/Nc84X_8Borg/s320/Texas_0135.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We saw this at the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;River Walk&lt;/span&gt; in San Antonio several years ago.  What is the caution for?  I have no idea.  It seems like a lot of cones and tape for no obvious sign of danger.  Is the sidewalk cracked, chipped or loose?  No.  Maybe it's the cone in the middle that's a danger.  Maybe that one has been causing trouble.  Maybe it's an outcast in the cone community.  The other four are like prison &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;guards&lt;/span&gt; making sure no one gets near it.  OR.  Maybe it's so important it needs a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;guard&lt;/span&gt;.  The other four are more like the secret service keeping us away from it to protect it.  It &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; want us to touch it.  Still a mystery after 5 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvuBWZMHQVI/AAAAAAAAACA/5iUPZUk8q0g/s1600-h/Keystone+12-2004-_0030.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403054399679840594" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvuBWZMHQVI/AAAAAAAAACA/5iUPZUk8q0g/s320/Keystone+12-2004-_0030.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I took these at Keystone Colorado.  We stopped to watch the snow boarders go over these huge jumps.  I put the Sun behind the tree and the camera on super sport mode.  I think they look kind of cool.  If I had some &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;photo shop&lt;/span&gt; skills I bet they could look really cool.  This trip was way before we had kids, but I think it might have been the last time we've been skiing or snowboarding.  I miss it.  I hope we can go soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6805979686949226696?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6805979686949226696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6805979686949226696&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6805979686949226696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6805979686949226696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/click-i-took-some-pics.html' title='Click, I Took Some Pics'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvuBxkmPWvI/AAAAAAAAACI/Nc84X_8Borg/s72-c/Texas_0135.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8731998067893187145</id><published>2009-11-10T14:23:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T14:40:19.700-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><title type='text'>Day 10</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvnPZ1PB7nI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Ak185D4GHXQ/s1600-h/12-2004-_0007a.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I keep trying to find some interesting pictures to post. Not much is grabbing out at me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This one is a beautiful church somewhere near Eureka Springs. We stopped on an anniversary trip in early 2005. I was pregnant with oldest and it was sort of our last no kids trip. I remember finding a great restaurant sort of located in nowhere that had a really good seafood pasta dish. Of course I didn't order it, husband did, but he was kind enough to share with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvnOq5QKTxI/AAAAAAAAABw/OPzKesDSX80/s1600-h/100_0458.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402576464326053650" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvnOq5QKTxI/AAAAAAAAABw/OPzKesDSX80/s320/100_0458.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvnPZ1PB7nI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Ak185D4GHXQ/s1600-h/12-2004-_0007a.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvnPZ1PB7nI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Ak185D4GHXQ/s1600-h/12-2004-_0007a.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't seem to figure out how to post multiple pictures.  I'll save the others for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvnMNavY9OI/AAAAAAAAABY/Lciq5ZwTC7Y/s1600-h/0022.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8731998067893187145?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8731998067893187145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8731998067893187145&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8731998067893187145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8731998067893187145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/day-10.html' title='Day 10'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvnOq5QKTxI/AAAAAAAAABw/OPzKesDSX80/s72-c/100_0458.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-106300918750550908</id><published>2009-11-09T20:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T20:26:48.057-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd'/><title type='text'>Age to Age</title><content type='html'>I saw a cute kid tonight.  I asked the lady holding him how old he was.  She sort of stared at me a minute then said "he was born in June".  OK.  The lady seemed to be some sort of grandmother.  I am not sure if it was his or not, but he seemed good with her holding him.  I guess the pause and stare was to give her time to figure his age.  She couldn't do it so she said June.  That makes the kid 4 or 5 months old depending on when he was born in June.  The kid was huge.  Sitting up.  Looking at me like he wanted a sandwich.  I'm not sure she was right about the month.  Maybe mammy got confused.  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother gets my birthday wrong.  All my life it's been the 16&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, but she'll call on the 15&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; or 17&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; to wish me happy birthday and then is &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; when I say she is early or late.  Something you want to tell me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anytime someone asks the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;birth date&lt;/span&gt; of my kids I have to stop and think.  I always want to give the current year as the birth year.  I forget how fast time flies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-106300918750550908?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/106300918750550908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=106300918750550908&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/106300918750550908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/106300918750550908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/age-to-age.html' title='Age to Age'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-4028356710250398140</id><published>2009-11-08T15:08:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T15:12:14.735-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Snuggle Bunny</title><content type='html'>When oldest was a baby he used to sleep on us all the time.  If ever he was tired all you had to do was lay him on your chest and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;bam&lt;/span&gt;, asleep.  When he doesn't feel well he wants to snuggle.  Just before he goes to sleep at night he wants to snuggle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've had trouble getting him to rest in the afternoons.  I know, a four year old that doesn't nap?  What's that about?  Anyway, he is tired.  He wills himself to stay up late and get up early.  He is grumpy all day long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today he is resting on top of his father.  They are both tired from being up at 4:30 am and off and on from then.  So they are resting together.  It's either brilliant or a terrible idea.  One of two things will happen.  They will both sleep or at least rest and mission accomplished.  OR...oldest will wiggle, squirm and chatter until husband is driven nuts and starts yelling.  It is too early to tell.  Right now they look cute snuggled in bed together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-4028356710250398140?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/4028356710250398140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=4028356710250398140&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4028356710250398140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4028356710250398140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/snuggle-bunny.html' title='Snuggle Bunny'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2060144986750716336</id><published>2009-11-07T16:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T16:19:47.452-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Little Stuff</title><content type='html'>I am worn out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just took a nice nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family is outside.  I'm not quite ready to reunite with them.  It is nice to have some peaceful time in the middle of a storm.  The kids have been touchy lately.  I think they are not sleeping enough.  How do we get them more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a job.  Do you know of one?  Nothing too fancy, but some income would be lovely.  I have applied many places.  Hearing 'no' a lot.  Not even a "sorry, but no" or "no thank you".  Just 'no'.  I have hope though.  Something will come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am nervous about something.  Excited, but nervous.  I can't talk about it just yet.  Things seem to be coming together, but who knows until the minute it happens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, this is kind of a weak post.  I don't have much to say as I am in wait and see mode.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2060144986750716336?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2060144986750716336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2060144986750716336&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2060144986750716336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2060144986750716336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/little-stuff.html' title='Little Stuff'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7413001038515850797</id><published>2009-11-06T12:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T12:46:13.327-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Woof</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvRt6MzmULI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kMvD1rpImnI/s1600-h/100_0463.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401062699761553586" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvRt6MzmULI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kMvD1rpImnI/s320/100_0463.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meet the children.  At least, they were the children before we had the human kind.  If you can't tell their size from the picture the one on the left is about 55 lbs and the one on the right is about 70lbs.  They are inside dogs and always have been.  They spend most of the day outside, but sleep inside.  In the old house, before kids, they were allowed all over the house.  At night they slept on doggie beds in our bedroom.  Once in a while in winter they got to sleep on the bed with us.  This never lasted too long as we ran out of room or got tired of a paw in our back.  In this house they stay downstairs.  They still have the doggie beds, but no more snuggling on the bed.  Occasionally when we go downstairs to watch a movie they come lay on the couch by us.  They are still good dogs, just not "the children" anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7413001038515850797?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7413001038515850797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7413001038515850797&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7413001038515850797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7413001038515850797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/woof.html' title='Woof'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SvRt6MzmULI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kMvD1rpImnI/s72-c/100_0463.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2710848916024046302</id><published>2009-11-05T15:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T15:06:54.461-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><title type='text'>Things I Want to Do</title><content type='html'>Go to Italy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Remodel&lt;/span&gt; my bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;Lose 10 pounds.&lt;br /&gt;Replace all the carpeting.&lt;br /&gt;Build a new deck.&lt;br /&gt;Go snow skiing.&lt;br /&gt;Take my boys to all 50 states.&lt;br /&gt;Vacation with my husband - and not the kids.&lt;br /&gt;Buy all new Christmas decorations.&lt;br /&gt;Get a new computer.&lt;br /&gt;Go to Hawaii.&lt;br /&gt;Landscape.&lt;br /&gt;Not kill the plants.&lt;br /&gt;Teach the boys to swim.&lt;br /&gt;Go to the bathroom alone.&lt;br /&gt;Grow my hair (why do I always cut it so short?)&lt;br /&gt;Get a job.&lt;br /&gt;Go on another cruise.&lt;br /&gt;Buy all new clothes.&lt;br /&gt;Teach my boys about faith.&lt;br /&gt;Donate $10,000.&lt;br /&gt;Take a week long nap.&lt;br /&gt;Finish all my creative projects.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2710848916024046302?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2710848916024046302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2710848916024046302&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2710848916024046302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2710848916024046302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/things-i-want-to-do.html' title='Things I Want to Do'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7102696832980241823</id><published>2009-11-04T21:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T21:28:27.131-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Out of The Mouth</title><content type='html'>Child: What was your bad day?&lt;br /&gt;Adult: Some folks were mean today.&lt;br /&gt;C: Someone was mean to you?&lt;br /&gt;A: Not mean to me, but folks were mean to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C: Did they steal your milk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the eyes of a child.  All things are boiled down to the simplest ideas.  Someone was mean - that's not nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7102696832980241823?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7102696832980241823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7102696832980241823&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7102696832980241823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7102696832980241823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/out-of-mouth.html' title='Out of The Mouth'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7707178985887350831</id><published>2009-11-03T16:14:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T16:21:33.673-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd'/><title type='text'>O and Her Big Mouth</title><content type='html'>So the other day I was watching television (original I know) and saw Oprah.  Patrick &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Swayze's&lt;/span&gt; wife was on talking about her life with Patrick.  She seemed way too &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; talking about all sorts of personal things.  I started to tear up a bit when she was talking about his last days and watching him die.  I am sure they expected this from the day they got the diagnosis, but still, after 34 years you don't even tear up? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, O keeps asking her questions, but never lets her answer much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oprah: "So, tell us what his last days were like"&lt;br /&gt;Patrick &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Swayze's&lt;/span&gt; non-crying Wife: "He was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;O: "Was he in pain?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;PSncW&lt;/span&gt;: "Not really-&lt;br /&gt;O: "Because I would think the end would be hard, very painful"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;PSncW&lt;/span&gt;: "He had the drugs to -&lt;br /&gt;O: "Did you talk with him about dying, God and all that other scary stuff"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;PSncW&lt;/span&gt;: "The drugs knocked him out"&lt;br /&gt;O: "Did you feel him leave this World"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;PSncW&lt;/span&gt;: "I've felt animals leave when they died -&lt;br /&gt;O: "You were so close I wonder if he felt he could leave you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;PSncW&lt;/span&gt;: "&lt;br /&gt;O: "blah blah blah...I want to talk"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every interview goes like this.  She asks a question and then right as the person is ready to answer she interjects with what she thinks.  Shut up already.  I get you want to seem empathetic.  It's annoying.  Ask the question, then shut it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I watch that often, but it is a bit taxing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7707178985887350831?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7707178985887350831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7707178985887350831&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7707178985887350831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7707178985887350831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/o-and-her-big-mouth.html' title='O and Her Big Mouth'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6422361580112735974</id><published>2009-11-02T12:34:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T12:40:01.916-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><title type='text'>All Saints Day</title><content type='html'>Sometimes you need a reality check.  All Saints Day.  So many people have done and are doing great things.  Would you have the courage to hide and free slaves?  Would you be stoned to death for the sins of others?  What about in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;today's&lt;/span&gt; world?  Could you stand up to a corporation that was breaking the law?  Could you stand up for someone different from you? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to think I am open to everyone and I do not have a prejudice, but that is not true on every level.  Sure I think women and men, white and black are all equal, but what about a convict that has served his/her sentence?  Would I trust them?  I hear you.  It depends on the crime, blah, blah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, could you do the right thing even if it is hard?  I admire the ones that have and still do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6422361580112735974?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6422361580112735974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6422361580112735974&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6422361580112735974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6422361580112735974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/all-saints-day.html' title='All Saints Day'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6434404032537923159</id><published>2009-11-01T13:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T13:49:58.344-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>Boo</title><content type='html'>The boys had a great time last night.  SF was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Tigger&lt;/span&gt; and was so cute.  His bright orange outfit was easy to see even in the dark.  He loved carrying his pumpkin bucket and got upset if you tried to help carry.  He did great and even managed to say thank you a few times.  P was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Optimus&lt;/span&gt; Prime and had a ball.  He kept &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;announcing&lt;/span&gt; the number of candies he had in his bag.  "I have Five-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ty&lt;/span&gt; eight"  "I got one &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;hundred&lt;/span&gt; eighty-none twenty-four".  He was tired at the end.  After our friends left I put him to bed.  I am pretty sure he was asleep before I left the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we have tons of candy and mommy and daddy let them only have a couple pieces a day.  It might last until next year.  Oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6434404032537923159?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6434404032537923159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6434404032537923159&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6434404032537923159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6434404032537923159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/11/boo.html' title='Boo'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-1409854565388208799</id><published>2009-10-25T21:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T21:07:34.754-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><title type='text'>Who Knew?</title><content type='html'>I asked for help.  Finally I got tired of how things are and I asked a friend to point me in the right direction.  She met with me and we talked and she pointed out a few things.  At first I did not believe it.  After thinking about it, though, it is all true.  Seeing it now I think I can change it.  I just hope it does not take years, but it will take time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; was so messed up?  I just thought it was everyone else.  What is wrong with all of them?  Now, I know it was me and &lt;em&gt;they&lt;/em&gt; were never going to measure up to my ridiculous standards.  &lt;em&gt;They&lt;/em&gt; are not the problem.  &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; am.  Now I can get to work making some changes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-1409854565388208799?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/1409854565388208799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=1409854565388208799&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1409854565388208799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1409854565388208799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/10/who-knew.html' title='Who Knew?'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6483333579715504108</id><published>2009-07-15T21:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T21:24:46.229-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>I Hope</title><content type='html'>Hearing of someone else having a much worse time than you really puts things in perspective.  I have been sort of wallowing in my life lately and today I got a new view.  There were several people that had very serious things happening in their lives.  They are not just getting tired of doing laundry, tired of doing the dishes or tired of vacuuming.  They are worried about loved ones dying, children living too short lives, friends turning their backs.  It just does not compare.  Sure, my troubles are mine, and to me, maybe they are worth getting a little grumpy over.  There are so many more things that could be wrong.  I am thankful so much is right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good friend of mine has been down for a while.  Today she was kicked while she was down.  I won't share her story here, but I hope to share it in real life.  I hope to be there to hold her hand if she needs.  I hope to take her a nice meal to keep up her strength.  I hope to hear the good news that things have turned around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe things are the way they are for a reason.  There is something learn or know or experience.  There are several situations that I hope have been taught, shown or lived and things can turn around and move to a positive light.  The time will come and I hope it's soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6483333579715504108?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6483333579715504108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6483333579715504108&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6483333579715504108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6483333579715504108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-hope.html' title='I Hope'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8889496633039713081</id><published>2009-07-05T20:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T21:26:19.334-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Summer of '09</title><content type='html'>This is a summer of firsts for Peanut. He got to have &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;S'mores&lt;/span&gt; at a friends house. He got to watch and help do some fireworks and something else I can't remember right now. He has really been having fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fireworks have been the newest thing since the 4&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; was just yesterday. Thursday some of the neighbor kids were shooting some off and we walked to the end of the block to watch. One of the dads let him have a sparkler. He wasn't sure what to do at first, but his friend A was there and showed him how. A is five so he knows how a sparkler is done. Anyway, it was cute watching him with the older boys. He, at 3 1/2 is the youngest of the bunch. I would guess most of them are between 7 and 10. They are all very nice to him. They talk to him and help him out with things. It's wonderful. They don't treat him like a little kid. Maybe his size has something to do with it, but I'm glad they seem to accept him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday we had some friends over for dinner and Peanut got to see a few more fireworks at our house. He and J did several boxes of those little snappers and sparklers. Husband and his buddy J shot of some simple things. It was a nice evening, especially since I got to hold baby S for a while. He's just one month old. So cute! Saturday we went to see more friends and Peanut got to play with his other friend A. They did really great. Usually they have a few squabbles, but last night they played for hours. I put &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Sweetface&lt;/span&gt; to bed and the adults got to play a game for a while. I hated to leave, but it was getting late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all summer has been good to us so far. We've only been to the pool a couple times, but now that it's warmer we can go more often. It's hard to go by myself with the two kids, but if we go right when Husband gets home from work we have about an hour or so to play. That's plenty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edited:  I remembered the other thing.  He got to go to Coldstone to order his first ice cream.  Chocolate Jello Pudding ice cream with Marshmallows.  Yum!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8889496633039713081?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8889496633039713081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8889496633039713081&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8889496633039713081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8889496633039713081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/07/summer-of-09.html' title='Summer of &apos;09'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-4584152986984699166</id><published>2009-07-02T11:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T11:15:21.973-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>I Think I am Doing it Wrong</title><content type='html'>I don't get the exercise high people talk about.  I work out and sweat, but after it's over I just want to take a nap.  Perhaps after I do it for a few days (weeks?) it will get better.  Right now it feels like a lot of effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our family has been trying to move to a healthier place.  We eat out too much and eat meals made from a box too often.  I've been buying fresh fruits and vegetables and once in a while we've been eating them.  We have also switched to eating more Organic items.  The downside is that you don't see instant results.  This will really have more of a long-term affect on us.  That's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;.  The kids are young and have long lives to live.  I would rather they be long healthy lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posting has been pretty light.  I have not had much to say and still don't really.  I am trying to find my place right now.  Both kids go to daycare a couple days a week so I have some time for me.  I've been worn out and resting mostly, but trying to start some projects.  My energy level has been pretty low.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-4584152986984699166?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/4584152986984699166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=4584152986984699166&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4584152986984699166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4584152986984699166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-think-i-am-doing-it-wrong.html' title='I Think I am Doing it Wrong'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-27032431258767928</id><published>2009-05-29T22:47:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T23:03:10.293-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>The Memories are Sweet</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow.  One year ago almost to the minute I was preparing for my last good nights sleep.  Husband was home from class and we were discussing the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pros&lt;/span&gt; and cons of not going to the hospital the night before the induction.  He said we could sleep good for one more night.  It was close to 11 pm and finally we brushed teeth and went to bed.  Only an hour later I snapped out of my dream saying "uh oh" and then saying it again a minute later as I was finally wide awake.  My water broke.  I grabbed a towel off the floor and ran to the bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember it like it was last night.  I remember being excited and so calm.  I remember waiting to find out if it was a girl or not.  Then, finally, I had my baby.  He looked just like Peanut.  I was instantly in love.  He was perfect.  He nursed great, he snuggled and slept.  The love was instant.  They placed him on my chest and he was full in my heart already.  He still is.  He really is my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sweetface&lt;/span&gt;.  He goes everywhere with me and is usually good natured about the whole thing.  When he puts his head on my shoulder I'm not sure how I can contain this much love.  My eyes well up with tears, the love is literally pouring out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will be a party tomorrow in celebration of my little boy turning one.  He has earned every minute of it.  He has five teeth and took his first steps four days before his birthday.  He sleeps through the night, takes two naps during the day and eats like a champ (mostly).  He wears 12 month clothes but sometimes needs 18 month.  He is not nearly as tall as Peanut was, but weighs nearly the same.  His eyes are blue and his hair is reddish &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;blond&lt;/span&gt; and way too long.  I love this boy with every pulse I have, with every breath I take.  He is the most precious gift I have ever received and I am thankful for him every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family is arriving and will stay through the weekend.  Friends are coming tomorrow.  So many people to come celebrate one of my two blessings.  I am lucky.  The cakes are made, the gifts are wrapped.  I will frost/decorate cakes, vegetables will be chopped and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;punch&lt;/span&gt; will be made in the morning.  After lunch the balloons will be strung up.  I've given my worry to one that can handle it.  His hands are bigger.  I will only enjoy the memories of that day one year ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-27032431258767928?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/27032431258767928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=27032431258767928&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/27032431258767928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/27032431258767928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/05/memories-are-sweet.html' title='The Memories are Sweet'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5491196471596849699</id><published>2009-05-26T22:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T22:38:01.678-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>The Weeds are Growing Too</title><content type='html'>My baby will be one on Saturday.  Suddenly he's much more interested in walking.  At church on Sunday he took off like a mad man.  Being held was torture for him.  He still can't walk, but he went for all he was worth holding on to a mommy or daddy finger.  He would plop down to crawl, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;neither&lt;/span&gt; of us wanted him to get trampled in the lobby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is starting to eat better too.  In general he is still pretty picky, but he seems willing to try more things.  Or maybe I'm just offering him more things I think he will like.  Either way I try to get a balanced diet in him.  Fruit, vegetable, dairy and some meat.  He loves bread, but gets more than he needs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanut is testing us daily.  He is an expert at pushing at the rules just enough that we bend a tiny bit without breaking the rule.  But after a couple weeks we realize the rule has long been broken.  We snap back to attention and Peanut hates it for a while before he starts pushing again.  He was in top form today.  Yesterday he was sick and got to have a Sprite to settle his tummy.  Today he thought he would get another one even though he was feeling fine.  I explained he got one special because he was sick.  A few hours later he told this long story about birds and they get in your tummy and you go to the doctor and he tells you that you are sick and you get to go home and have a Sprite.  It was a cute story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pudgy.  I look 6 months pregnant.  For real.  I'm waiting for someone to ask when I'm due.  Now that I'm done nursing and the baby is almost one I think it's time to own the extra weight that is still hanging around.  It's not going to melt off from nursing or any other activity.  Somehow I need to get some exercise in my life.  Playing volleyball is great, but it's only once a week.  There is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;SAHM&lt;/span&gt; running group nearby, but they run on the nights I can't.  I could join a gym, but most have less than fabulous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;daycares&lt;/span&gt;.  I don't want to be paged in the middle of working out to come change a diaper.  Surely there is a childcare center in a gym that will change a diaper if need be.  Oh well.  I could start at home for free, but I have zero motivation.  I just know my clothes don't fit and swimsuit season is fast approaching.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5491196471596849699?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5491196471596849699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5491196471596849699&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5491196471596849699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5491196471596849699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/05/weeds-are-growing-too.html' title='The Weeds are Growing Too'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-4601873139304820763</id><published>2009-04-29T21:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T21:30:20.584-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd'/><title type='text'>Will You be My Friend?</title><content type='html'>Can I just say?...Facebook kind of freaks me out.  On the one hand it's nice to connect with people and learn more about them.  I'm comfortable looking at pictures and reading insights of people I know at this moment in life.  These are people I talk to and could hang out with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the people that I have not seen or heard from in over 15 years that sort of takes my breath away.  High school was not a fabulous place for me.  I was mostly an average person.  My school was small and I knew everyone, but was only good friends (or so I thought) with a few of them.  After graduation I left for college and never looked back.  No one else looked for me.  For the most part I just faded away and allowed everyone else to fade as well.  Ten years after graduation I got an email letting me know I missed my 10 year reunion.  That is OK.  I probably would not have gone anyway.  A few friends caught me up on their lives and then we promptly lost touch again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now 5 years later I joined FB.  I found several classmates.  Some of them even sent me messages asking how my life is/has been.  It feels very odd and somewhat forced to share my life with someone that let me fade away those many years ago.  Is it a grudge?  They forgot me then so they cannot know me now?  My open mind and heart tell me to swallow the hurt and allow them in.  The tough part comes after sharing.  I posted very little and shared only enough to give a general snapshot of life today.  Married with two kids living in xyz.  I am finding they start off excited to see me and catch up, then they go back to what they were doing and I fade away again.  I am also finding it is painful to again lose touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This quick catch up is fine for some folks.  Really I am just curious where they are and what happened in their lives.  I do not really want a relationship.  FB works well for this.  I saw a &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrlSkU0TFLs"&gt;video &lt;/a&gt;of FB that really summed it up for me.  It is a great tool and yet odd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-4601873139304820763?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/4601873139304820763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=4601873139304820763&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4601873139304820763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4601873139304820763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/04/will-you-be-my-friend.html' title='Will You be My Friend?'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2712678311532637196</id><published>2009-04-22T20:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T20:08:10.941-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd'/><title type='text'>Smell the Happieness</title><content type='html'>Well, Spring has sprung and I'm feeling much better.  We are all still having good and bad times, but now that the sky is blue and the grass and trees are green again I am happier.  So I just read my last post...Anyone ready for something lighter and happier?  Me too.  It's wonderful to be able to go outside and not freeze to death.  Everything seems happier.  Birds are chirping and flowers are starting to peek up.  I must really have SAD bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some lady was going door to door selling paintings.  It was a bit unusual, but they were rather good.  I'm not sure if she actually painted anything or just put her name on something, but the pictures were beautiful.  I would have bought more if they weren't so pricey.  She came down $30 and then I boldly offered her another $20 off.  She sort of sighed and bit her lip.  She had been out all day and didn't seem to have sold anything.  I figured if she was desperate she would take it.  She did.  I'm the owner of two lovely abstract oil paintings.  I really like them and will get them hung up in the next few weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt kind of gutsy asking for a deal.  I'm not that type of person at all.  Usually I just go with whatever is on the table.  I don't know what made this moment different.  Oh well.  In my eyes we both won.  She got some cash and I got a couple paintings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Peanut and Husband are getting ready for bath and once Peanut takes his clothes off he runs around the house naked for a bit.  They are upstairs getting ready for bath and I'm downstairs.  A little streaker just ran in and out of here in a flash.  Makes me giggle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2712678311532637196?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2712678311532637196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2712678311532637196&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2712678311532637196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2712678311532637196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/04/smell-happieness.html' title='Smell the Happieness'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5816238017227232492</id><published>2009-03-24T11:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T11:47:10.559-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Put a Fork in Me - I am Done</title><content type='html'>When I say I’m done…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean I am tired of being me.  I’m at the end of my rope and asking for help.  I cannot deal with the kid(s) any more.  I want to walk out the door and not come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do pretty well for a while but it’s all building inside.  Every time I have to repeat myself, to start counting to 3 or taking a toy away it builds more.  Every time I have to tell them to stop, to listen, to pay attention it builds.  Every time I have to clean something spilled, put things away they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;should no&lt;/span&gt;t have or re-direct them to something else it builds.  Then I reach a point where I’m done.  I struggle to care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m done.  I don’t want to play, to listen to them, to talk to them.  I don’t want to be around them.  I’m done trying to stay calm, to understand, cleaning things up and thinking of what to do next.  I’m done being the nose wiper, the butt wiper the face washer and the hand washer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I start to think they are better off with someone at a daycare or a nanny.  Surely some one doing this as a chosen job is better at it than I am.  Someone else can feed them, clean them and tell them the same thing 1000 times before 8am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t get much of a break.  My job is a full time job.  The ‘mom’ never turns off.  I know you are also the ‘dad’ full time and that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;does no&lt;/span&gt;t turn off either.  If you get stressed at work you have the luxury of going to the gym for a while or taking off early or getting a drink.  When I get stressed I have to make lunch, change diapers, clean up, try to give naps (and not get upset when they don’t) and all the things that stressed me out in the first place.  Sure I can go to a gym too, but I have to take the kids with me to the daycare.  I can drop them off for 2 hours, knowing they are waiting there for me at the end of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is about me, but I know you have stress too.  School and work not to mention the crazy lady at home.  All that adds to my stress because I don’t want to bother you.  I know you can’t very well leave work whenever I have a bad day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what do I do?  I thought playing volleyball and having Wednesday night was enough to keep me re-grouped, but there are things in relations to those that stress me out.  I still watch them all day, plan meals and whatever.  Then occasionally my time off gets overrun by something else.  I get pushed aside for another day.  I go along with it assuming I will get my time or what else is needed is more important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I’m done – I’m losing my grip.  I’m angry, upset, sad and ready to quit.  I’m not sure what I want to hear.  Maybe something only for me.  Something that shows someone else is paying attentions and cares.  I’d like a friend.  Someone to invite me out.  Someone to swap kids with .  Someone I can call.  Someone I felt close to. Do not suggest I know this person.  If I did I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;would no&lt;/span&gt;t be writing this – I’d be on the phone with them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5816238017227232492?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5816238017227232492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5816238017227232492&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5816238017227232492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5816238017227232492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/03/put-fork-in-me-i-am-done.html' title='Put a Fork in Me - I am Done'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5846111997902053516</id><published>2009-03-23T22:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T22:42:01.249-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Tonight</title><content type='html'>Life with kids.  It really does change every aspect of your life.  I used to stay up late, sleep in and be lazy.  Now I stay up later than I should, sleep in as late as I can and while I'm still a bit lazy I have to get moving for the kids.  Of course I also had a job to dress for and get to on time.  My mom job lets me wear pajamas if I want, though I have to be on time EVERY DAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanut is a handful again or maybe it's still.  I'm not sure he ever stopped.  Lately he has become quite adamant.  He has no idea about what exactly, but whatever it is he latches onto, he is adamant.  For example, he won't call the evening meal 'dinner'.  He says he doesn't want dinner, he wants lunch.  I think in his mind he wants the type of food you eat at lunch.  We typically have a sandwich for lunch and more of a hot meal for dinner.  I would guess he wants the sandwich.  Who knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also lately he has been getting out of bed a lot more.  The first time tonight he asked if I would help get 'Credible Hulk' out of his room.  He is a Super Hero freak and sometimes they stay in his room.  I guess the gang gets rowdy because occasionally he will ask me to kick someone out.  I went in and told him to get out so Peanut could sleep.  The next time was a problem with the blanket.  He had taken it off the bed and wanted it tucked in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a line of storms headed our way and I really want him asleep before they get here.  Otherwise we'll have trouble keeping him in his room for that.  Once he is sleeping he is like a log and does not wake up for anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SF had some horrible diaper rash.  I called the doctor last Monday and go the nurse line.  They made some suggestions and said to give it 5 days.  By Thursday we couldn't take it anymore.  It wasn't really getting any better and he was in some serious pain.  It was awful.  We took him to the doctor on Thursday afternoon.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;doctor&lt;/span&gt; took one look and sent us for a special cream.  It has medicine for yeast/bacteria and something else mixed with diaper cream.  He was better the next morning.  It cost $5.  I couldn't believe the nurse would make me try other things and wait while my son was in agony when I could have spent $5 for the magic cure.  We were glad we didn't wait any longer and I'm guessing so was SF.  When your delicate bits are on fire no one is happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5846111997902053516?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5846111997902053516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5846111997902053516&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5846111997902053516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5846111997902053516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/03/tonight.html' title='Tonight'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6700771277273317770</id><published>2009-03-07T19:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T19:59:20.345-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Hair Yesterday Gone Today</title><content type='html'>I got a haircut.  I've been hating my blah mom hair for a while.  It was long, plain and often in a ponytail or bun.  Today I decided I have had enough.  I called the beauty shop and asked for someone good.  They suggested B.  OK.  I went in and you know the first thing they say is "what are we doing today"?  My response was that we needed to talk.  I love the length, but it's getting tedious to wash, comb, dry and style.  It's blah.  I'm willing to make a change and want something easy to fix and cute.  Though I was willing to go shorter I think this is a good start.  She cut about 7 inches off.  I'm having some trouble getting used to it.  There is enough for a short ponytail and now I have bangs.  I haven't had bangs in many years.  They are long and sweep to the side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far I love it.  Husband says it looks good.  Peanut said it looked funny, but enjoyed running his fingers through it.  SF still just yanks on it, but at 9 months I expect that.  I really hope to start fixing it more often.  My attitude is so much better when I am fixed up a bit.  Perhaps I shall start getting up earlier to get ready for 'work'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I toured a gym and got a free week pass.  This one has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;child watch&lt;/span&gt; for $2 per day but I'm not sure how involved they will get.  The community center has the same thing, but they won't do anything with the child except make sure they don't die.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Seriously&lt;/span&gt;, they call you to feed, change, pick up or console your child.  I'm not a hard core workout person, but I don't want to get paged every 5 minutes.  This new place seems to do everything, but the guy wasn't sure they would change a diaper.  Give me a break.  I'm thinking the odds of SF going two hours without needing a new diaper is 70/30.  Like maybe 30% chance he'll need one.  I'll try the free week and see what happens.  The price is reasonable if the childcare works out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6700771277273317770?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6700771277273317770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6700771277273317770&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6700771277273317770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6700771277273317770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/03/hair-yesterday-gone-today.html' title='Hair Yesterday Gone Today'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-1252096823658456916</id><published>2009-02-25T21:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T21:24:24.985-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Thoughts are Like Ashes</title><content type='html'>They come out of nothing, are brilliant for a while, then die off and fall to the pile below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No more day anything.  I made it through day one and two and then stopped.  I hurt my back two weeks ago and have not been able to do much of anything until now.  Hopefully, I can start day one again soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched my son ride his little bike today.  He is growing and I can't seem to stop it.  I was filled with a sense of wonder as his little legs pumped up and down.  Soon he will ride without training wheels.  Soon he will ride farther than our driveway.  Soon he will ride away with friends.  It is wonderful to watch him grow and learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanut doesn't need glasses.  Yet.  He is far-sighted as most children are at his age, but it seems to be a moderate case.  After a full exam it is determined to leave it be.  He will be re-checked in  six months to make sure nothing changes.  Poor kid.  He already has hearing aides, we don't want to saddle him with glasses too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to think of something to give up for Lent.  I think I'll go with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;caffeine&lt;/span&gt;.  I don't have much, but if I can kick it for 40 days then all the better.  Of course I messed up already not realizing you are to start at midnight on Fat Tuesday.  I shall start now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-1252096823658456916?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/1252096823658456916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=1252096823658456916&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1252096823658456916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1252096823658456916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/02/thoughts-are-like-ashes.html' title='Thoughts are Like Ashes'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-130385978365012284</id><published>2009-02-13T18:50:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T18:55:11.340-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Day Two</title><content type='html'>So it's been almost a week.  That's the crazy week we had.  I could not find time to exercise until this morning.  The workout was good but not great.  I need to put more into it.  When I'm alone it's too easy to cop out and go at half speed/effort.  Hopefully if I can do it more than twice a week I'll get a little stronger and better push myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a babysitter for the afternoon tomorrow.  I think we're heading to a movie and early dinner.  I really don't care much for Valentines Day.  There is too much pressure to be romantic.  You can't force it.  My husband does very nice things for me during the whole year.  Granted it's not often and he could use a little help in the romantic ideas dept., but overall he does a fine job.  Why put this pressure on both of us?  Should he get me something?  What should he get?  How much should he spend?  I say don't worry about it.  It's another day of the year.  He brought me home lovely flowers and that was wonderful.  Right now he and the boys are making me something.  That is what I love.  I love getting things that are from the kids that I can cherish forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-130385978365012284?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/130385978365012284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=130385978365012284&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/130385978365012284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/130385978365012284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/02/day-two.html' title='Day Two'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3690446658881034480</id><published>2009-02-07T09:55:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T09:59:48.975-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><title type='text'>Day One Level One</title><content type='html'>Ugh.  I've been sick all week and today is my official mommy day off.  Husband took the boys out for their activities and I have the house to myself for another hour or two.  So far I've done nothing exciting, but it's been nice to do what I want instead of what I have to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...I exercised.  Gah!  I forgot how tough this video is.  Hopefully I can start doing it more regularly and it will get easier as the flab melts away.  I did learn one very important lesson.  I need a new sport bra.  Seriously,  I still have mommy boobs and they are not excited about jumping jacks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a shower I'm off to shop and generally enjoy my day out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3690446658881034480?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3690446658881034480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3690446658881034480&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3690446658881034480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3690446658881034480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/02/day-one-level-one.html' title='Day One Level One'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6800012168973405961</id><published>2009-02-02T14:14:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T14:21:04.770-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Sunday School</title><content type='html'>We go to church pretty regularly and both kids go to a classroom to spend time with other kids and learn something in a more age appropriate manner.  SF is only 8 months so he either chews on toys or sleeps through the whole thing.  Peanut is 3 so he goes to a preschool class for 3 yr &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt;.  Most of the time they just play, but sometimes there is a movie or singing or a story. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a week ago Peanut was on the couch playing his Leap Pad and he looked up at me and said " We lie about Jesus".  What?  Yes, he said we lie about Jesus.  I asked if he meant we rely on Jesus and he replied "No.  We lie about Jesus.  That's how it works mom".  It was cute and funny, but now that I type it out it's sad.  There are so many people that this is true for.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not a Bible &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thumper&lt;/span&gt; or anything, but I enjoy going and hearing a message.  I like learning how I can be a better person and help those around me.  Do we pray together at home?  No.  Do we talk about God or Jesus?  No.  Not usually unless Peanut asks.  But I am thankful for all I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After church Sunday we asked Peanut what he did in class.  He said they played hide and seek.  Later that night when I put him to bed I asked if anyone talked to him about God or Jesus.  He said yes someone talked about God.  Then he told me "God got lost".  It's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, he said he got found later.  Again cute and funny, but true for so many people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6800012168973405961?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6800012168973405961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6800012168973405961&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6800012168973405961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6800012168973405961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/02/sunday-school.html' title='Sunday School'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3712921270054953275</id><published>2009-01-28T22:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T22:31:50.822-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Cold and Dark</title><content type='html'>I admitted to my study group that I am not functioning at 100%.  It's odd to be so self aware that I can see what's wrong with me so clearly and yet not be willing to do anything about it.  I know I'm tired, not eating well, worried about things and maybe even depressed.  Even though I know these things I am not taking steps to fix them.  That's not true.  I made a doctor appointment for a physical.  Perhaps she can convince me to do more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pessimist in me knows that she will suggest therapy since talking to someone can be helpful.  The trouble is I've been to therapy several times with several different people and it's never worked to my advantage.  I either have to convince them that there is something wrong or they latch on to something that it not wrong and try to fix it.  One therapist had the bright realization that "you're just not happy".  Oh really?  It only took you three hours to figure that out?  Brilliant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not against medication or therapy.  It has it's place.  In this case I know what's wrong and therefore what to do to fix it.  It's the doing it that I can't seem to muster.  The stress levels are rising.  I'm maxed out and so is Husband.  Work is getting more stressful for him and I feel guilty adding to it.  Now is not the time to take a vacation with the uncertainty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a bunch of little things bothering me and I'm trying to let them go, but as each one piles on it gets harder to let them go.  The absolute worst thing happening is I'm getting tired of my kids.  I'm getting irritated.  I can't seem to just enjoy them and relax at all.  As soon as I'm awake I start counting the hours until it's bedtime for them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;PPD&lt;/span&gt;.  Can it be that after 8 months?  I think so.  I think some of the honeymoon from a newborn has worn off and now I'm a mother of two.  On one hand I'm glad they are getting older and on the other I am obsessed with having another baby.  In my heart I know it's not a good idea, but I keep dreaming of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah and my feet are constantly cold.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3712921270054953275?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3712921270054953275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3712921270054953275&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3712921270054953275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3712921270054953275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/01/cold-and-dark.html' title='Cold and Dark'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3358842775125905191</id><published>2009-01-13T21:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T21:55:28.792-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Out of the Mouths</title><content type='html'>Super Heroes are big in our house.  Several times a day we are assigned a Super to be.  Peanut is usually &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Spiderman&lt;/span&gt; or Batman.  Occasionally we get to choose, but usually he decides.  Husband decided he was going to be Captain America the other day.  This morning in the car Peanut asked me where he was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peanut:  Where is my Daddy?  Where is my friend, Captain America?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been trying to be Wonder Woman since she is a girl and so am I.  Tonight Peanut asked me who I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peanut:  Mommy are you Wonder Warmer?  Daddy said you were Wonder Warmer.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's me.  I can warm up anyone or anything.  There are so many crazy things this kid says.  We have decided he has no inner monologue.  Where most of us think several million thoughts a day and only vocalize a small percentage of them.  He says every thought he has.  My sister asked if I thought he had thoughts that he didn't say.  I don't think so.  When would he have time?  His motor-mouth goes non-stop.  I love the little guy and he is pretty entertaining, but it's also tiring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One new fascination he has is with soda, specifically Sprite.  That is what I drink most often.  The other day I had some and he asked for a drink so I put 1/2 a cup in his cup.  He was drinking through a straw so I cautioned him the bubbles might go in his nose.  Of course he didn't listen and the bubbles tickled him.  This morning I had a soda in the car and he asked what it was.  I told him it was a soda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peanut: I don't want the bubbles to blow my nose up.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed.  No one wants that.  Noses would be lost all over the World.  He is a semi-perfect parrot.  Tonight at dinner he kept changing his mind over whether to eat his meal with a fork or spoon.  I told him he could get whichever he wanted.  He went into this conversation about can I have a spoon or fork?  After asking over and over and over and over I said he could get whatever.  He came back to the table with a large serving spoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peanut:  Mama, is this a spoon?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:  Yes&lt;/em&gt; (thinking whether or not to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;explain&lt;/span&gt; big vs. little spoons)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave up and sighed thinking at least he was going to eat his dinner.  I think I said that out loud because when he got back to his chair he said the following.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peanut:  Whatever.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We try not to laugh at the things he says because sometimes it really is inappropriate.  Usually it's too funny not to bust up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Husband:  Crap!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peanut:  Crap.  Is that a spider?  Crap.  Crap spider.  Is Crap a spider Daddy?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:&lt;/em&gt;  (Rolling eyes at Husband for teaching 3 yr old new word)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's fun when he opens up in front of others too.  We spent Christmas at my sisters house and because the rest of the family did too sleeping space was limited.  I ended up sleeping in a bed with Peanut.  He tossed and turned all night and I slept very little.  Sometime around 5:30 am he started to wake up.  I told him to go back to sleep.  Daddy then got up (he was sleeping on the floor next to the bed) and talked to him a bit.  That night in the van with two of my sisters, my mother and my sisters two kids and Peanut we were driving around looking at Christmas lights.  I was telling the story of not sleeping well and how Peanut started to wake before 6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me:  Then Husband woke up and started telling him to go back to sleep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peanut (while slamming fist into hand for emphasis):  Daddy said stop your damn crying.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure of the exact statement, but the d word was uttered.  I didn't hear him and no one would say what he said.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Suffice&lt;/span&gt; it to say it wasn't anything a 3 yr old should be saying.  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At dinner last night he was kind of messy and Husband gave him a napkin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Husband:  Wipe your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;forearms&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peanut:  I don't have four arms.  Silly Daddy I only have two.  One. Two.  Not four.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw that one coming.  Especially since way back when Peanut was trying to tell Husband something and he kept starting over and kids do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Husband:  Spit it out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peanut: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Spittooey&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked down and spit.  We were in the living room at the time.  Kids take everything so literal.  It really is great to listen to how he views the World.  I just wish he could keep his view to himself once in a while.  There are so many great things he says.  It makes me a little sad when he starts saying things right.  I know you want them to develop and speak clearly and properly, but there is something about that innocent, kid talk that I'll really miss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3358842775125905191?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3358842775125905191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3358842775125905191&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3358842775125905191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3358842775125905191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/01/out-of-mouths.html' title='Out of the Mouths'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2187394267326752252</id><published>2009-01-05T21:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T21:18:51.610-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Bonk</title><content type='html'>Driving home from daycare this evening I stopped behind several cars waiting for the first car to turn left.  I don't remember exactly what we were doing.  It seems like Peanut was telling me something about school.  I was thinking about Oprah a little.  Anyway, I heard a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;screeching&lt;/span&gt; noise and looked over my left shoulder wondering what was happening.  Then we got hit.  I guess the guy behind us was thinking about Oprah too?  Doubtful, but he was not paying any attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There seems to be no damage and other than both kids started crying I think we are all fine.  I got pretty amped up for a while and couldn't think straight.  I took his name and number, but he conveniently didn't have his insurance card.  I don't think I'll need it, but still.  Before he left I gave him some friendly advice to get his stinking insurance card in his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I have called the police?  Really there was no damage (at least that I could see in the dusk) and we probably won't do anything more.  I'm guessing the cops would have maybe given him a ticket for driving without insurance?  Or do they care?  I thought it was a law to have insurance now.  What would you have done? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very thankful the kids seem &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;.  By nature I worry about everything and I'm quite paranoid that something may be lurking.  It was minor and I think they are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2187394267326752252?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2187394267326752252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2187394267326752252&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2187394267326752252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2187394267326752252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2009/01/bonk.html' title='Bonk'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3596019047001246794</id><published>2008-12-21T20:33:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T20:50:32.915-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Little Boy Lost</title><content type='html'>Second Child Syndrome is a real thing.  During my pregnancy I heard stories of how baby books were never filled out, if they were even bought.  They told me how the second child gets lost in the bustle of activities for the first child.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I knew&lt;/span&gt; you took far less photos and video of the second. &lt;br /&gt;I didn't believe it.  Actually, I did believe it, but I thought I could overcome it.  If I just put my mind to it we would have plentiful pictures and video.  The baby book would be purchased and filled out even better than the first.  I would protect the nap time of the second child, venturing out only when necessary. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How am I doing?  Not so good.  SF has had life better and worse than Peanut.  I knew what mistakes not to make, but I made some anyway.  I knew what to look for and when not to panic, but I panicked anyway.  I knew not to stress over every feeding, sometimes they eat and sometimes not, but I stressed anyway.  I bought the baby book and filled in several pages, but then the baby came and it's not been opened. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two things I feel awful about regarding the second child.  These are two things I can never fix.  I cannot go back in time and change things.  I'm trying very hard to not be upset about them.  I have the child and he is wonderful.  That really is enough for me.  If our house were to be destroyed along with all our belongings I would rejoice that my family is safe.  Pictures are pieces of paper, but my children are most precious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing is that I don't know the birth weight of SF.  The scale said 9 lbs 13 oz when he was put on it.  We had a picture of it.  BUT.  Twelve hours after his birth he only &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;weighed&lt;/span&gt; 9 lbs 1 oz.  The doctor and nurses didn't believe he lost that much in so little time.  He nursed well and had no other medical problems.  The next weight was only a couple ounces less so they think the 9#13 was wrong.  So I don't know what his true birth weight was.  I'll never know if he was more or less than Peanut.  It doesn't matter, but it's a stat. everyone asks and I don't know the answer.  My friend K said this "when it's 100 degrees out and someone says 'it's only 98' it's still really F&amp;amp;*$&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ing&lt;/span&gt; hot". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second thing is that we seem to have lost all pictures of SF before July.  Two months of his life are gone.  The birth day.  Peanut holding him for the first time.  Seeing his naked little body on the scale.  Looking at him wrapped up laying on his mommy for the first time.  Pictures of all the family meeting him for the first time.  It's all gone.  I can't get it back, though Husband has been trying to find it.  I remember every detail.  I can see it very clearly.  How do I share that with SF in two, six or fifteen years when he asks to see his baby pictures?  Will he care?  Will he feel like I love him less? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These two things give me a sense of failure.  I am heartbroken that we didn't go to the lengths we did to protect everything for Peanut.  He has over 1000 pictures and SF has maybe 100, but very few of just him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My New Year's Resolution will be to constantly have a camera with me to capture the fabulous moments in my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;children's&lt;/span&gt; lives.  Another will be to back up everything fanatically.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3596019047001246794?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3596019047001246794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3596019047001246794&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3596019047001246794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3596019047001246794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/12/little-boy-lost.html' title='Little Boy Lost'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-157445466446250994</id><published>2008-12-20T21:28:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T21:35:55.606-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><title type='text'>You May or May Not Know</title><content type='html'>I'm not sure who started this, but it looked entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things you've already done: bold&lt;br /&gt;Things you want to do: italicize&lt;br /&gt;Things you haven't done and don't want to: leave in plain font&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Started your own blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Slept under the stars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Played in a band&lt;/strong&gt;. I played in the school band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;4. Visited Hawaii.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Watched a meteor shower&lt;/strong&gt;. I’m pretty sure I did this, but maybe not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Given more than you can afford to charity. Never more than I can afford, but I do give quite a bit this time of year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. Been to Disneyland/world&lt;/strong&gt;. Yes. Both I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Climbed a mountain. Not really, though when we went skiing one time we made this wrong turn and started going down some sort of triple black diamond and had to hike back up a bit to the turn so we could go down the easy green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Held a praying mantis. No, thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10. Sang a solo&lt;/strong&gt;. The shower counts, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Bungee jumped. Absolutely not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;12. Visited Paris.&lt;/em&gt; Love to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Taught yourself an art from scratch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Adopted a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16. Had food poisoning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;18. Grown your own vegetables.&lt;/em&gt; I can’t grow anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20. Slept on an overnight train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Had a pillow fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Hitch hiked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Built a snow fort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Held a lamb. Does a lamb chop count?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26. Gone skinny dipping.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Run a Marathon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice&lt;/em&gt;. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; ridden the one at that hotel in Vegas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;29. Seen a total eclipse&lt;/em&gt;. I always miss it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Hit a home run. Does the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; count?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;32. Been on a cruise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. Seen Niagara Falls in person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;35. Seen an Amish community.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;36. Taught yourself a new language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Gone rock climbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;40. Seen Michelangelo’s David.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Sung karaoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;44. Visited Africa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. Been transported in an ambulance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;47. Had your portrait painted. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;48. Gone deep sea fishing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. I went to the top of the one in Vegas and it made me sick. The real one is like 3 times as tall so I doubt you will ever get me up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. Kissed in the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. Played in the mud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. Gone to a drive-in theater.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;55. Been in a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. Visited the Great Wall of China.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;57. Started a business. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;58. Taken a martial arts class.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;59. Visited Russia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. Served at a soup kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;62. Gone whale watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. Gotten flowers for no reason. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Gone sky diving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;67. Bounced a check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. Flown in a helicopter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;69. Saved a favorite childhood toy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;71. Eaten Caviar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;72. Pieced a quilt.&lt;/strong&gt; Not a whole one, but I did ¼ of one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;73. Stood in Times Square.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74. Toured the Everglades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;75. Been fired from a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;76. Seen the Changing of the Guard in London.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;77. Broken a bone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78. Been on a speeding motorcycle.&lt;/strong&gt; How fast do you have to go for it to count as speeding?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;80. Published a book. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;81. Visited the Vatican.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;82. Bought a brand new car.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;83. Walked in Jerusalem.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;84. Had your picture in the newspaper.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;85. Read the entire Bible.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;86. Visited the White House.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating. I don’t think so, but thanks for asking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;88. Had chickenpox. Mom says yes, but dad says no. Mom can’t remember when my birthday is so I’m not sure I trust her account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;89. Saved someone’s life.&lt;/strong&gt; I ran in and scooped up my nephew. He was bobbing along one of those lazy river things. Not sure his life was saved, but I felt like it could have been a bad situation otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90. Sat on a jury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;91. Met someone famous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;92. Joined a book club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;93. Lost a loved one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;94. Had a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;95. Seen the Alamo in person.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; been there, but I don’t think it was warm enough to swim. We might have dipped our toes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;97. Been involved in a law suit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;98. Owned a cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;99. Been stung by a bee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-157445466446250994?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/157445466446250994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=157445466446250994&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/157445466446250994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/157445466446250994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/12/you-may-or-may-not-know.html' title='You May or May Not Know'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-9167523662758764474</id><published>2008-12-19T19:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T20:04:41.111-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>It's Ugly Here</title><content type='html'>There is a lot of anger living in our house.  We all seem to have anger issues.  Peanut is 3 so you can understand he has a million things wrong or at least thinks he does.  Of course, 99% of that is easily fixed.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; (who will now be known as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;SweetFace&lt;/span&gt; or SF) is 6 months so there are a few things that anger him.  Mostly he wants to eat and we can't get the food in his mouth fast enough.  Or, like tonight, he backed himself under the coffee table and got stuck again.  These are also easily fixes.  No, it's the anger that Husband and I carry that is the issue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We aren't connecting like we used to.  I guess kids does that to a couple, but I'm not sure how to get over it.  We spend so much time getting from one tantrum to the next until bedtime, that we are both wiped out.  Then we spend the evening/night doing all the things that need to be done.  Babysitters are hard to find (and afford) so we don't go out much.  At one point we each had a night off to go out, alone.  Even that has been reduced to a couple of hours.  Husband goes to his study group one night and school another.  I play volleyball and have a study group.  Both of those last 2-3 hours.  I don't think it's enough for either of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of pretending it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; when I hear yelling in the house.  I'm tired of making Husband feel bad when I call him out on anger issues.  Yes, I'm sure it makes him feel bad, but am I not supposed to step in?  I'm tired of pretending it doesn't bother me just to keep the peace.  Mostly, I'm tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love being a mom and I have two great kids, but I'm tired of it.  I'm tired of the all the time-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ness&lt;/span&gt; that seems to have taken over.  I haven't had a haircut in a salon in over a year.  My sister cut it 6 months ago, but it needs professional help now.  I haven't gone out to do it because I hate asking Husband to watch this kids.  I know he has a rough time and gets angry.  So instead I just stay home.  Perhaps the hour or two for volleyball and the 2-3 hours for study group is enough to ask him to watch them.  It's easier for Husband to go out.  It seems like when he gets time off it's a lot of time.  I hate to keep score, but when he goes out he doesn't have to take a child with him (though he usually does take Peanut when he can). I usually do have to take SF.  Otherwise I have to be back every 3-4 hours to feed him or use the milk in the freezer thus confirming no babysitter since there would be no milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of all of this I think we lost the baby pictures of SF.  I can't find anything earlier than two months.  It's bad enough he has second child syndrome and there are hardly any pictures of him, but now we have nothing.  It makes me sick to think of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So right now it's not pretty here.  The stress is getting to me.  I'm tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-9167523662758764474?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/9167523662758764474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=9167523662758764474&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/9167523662758764474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/9167523662758764474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/12/its-ugly-here.html' title='It&apos;s Ugly Here'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8849129737265942295</id><published>2008-12-12T20:15:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T20:24:11.751-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Relax..For a Moment Anyway</title><content type='html'>I got a massage today.  While it wasn't the fancy spa experience I would have liked it to be, it was quite nice.  The place is clean and comfortable, but no bells or whistles.  My favorite place had foot soaks while you wait for your appointment and a steam shower when you are done.  The first few times I went it was Heaven.  Then it started getting sort of run down.  The soaks were still nice, but the shower was usually either out of soap or hot water.  The people there were getting extra snobby and it wasn't a great experience.  The up side was that the gal I saw there did a fantastic massage.  Once we moved I decided to find a new place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While getting my massage I kept thinking of all the ways to improve my life.  It's funny, while the toxins are being pushed out of my body I start thinking of what other toxic things need to go.  I dream of eating more vegetables and exercising.  I vow to do Yoga and get a massage every other month.  I start dreaming of a calm and peaceful house in which my children rarely misbehave.  Then the massage is over and I drink my glass of water and head home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying to workout, but it's not happening.  I can't seem to get more than a foot away from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt;.  I'd let him just cry through it, but I'm not sure I can make it through a 20 minute workout while he wails.  I guess I might have to join some sort of gym that offers childcare.  At least then I would know the kid(s) would be looked after while I get my workout in.  I just hate to spend the money.  My stomach is starting to gross me out though.  I honestly believe that if I could just workout a few times a week I'd start to look and feel better.  The main goal is to fit into my clothes again.  I'd say I need to lose at least 10 lbs to do that.  Actually, I just need to flatten the belly a bit.  I don't care how much I lose if any.  I just want my clothes back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8849129737265942295?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8849129737265942295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8849129737265942295&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8849129737265942295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8849129737265942295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/12/relaxfor-moment-anyway.html' title='Relax..For a Moment Anyway'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-731869163928438104</id><published>2008-12-09T13:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T13:47:42.129-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Anyone Here?</title><content type='html'>Wow.  I guess it's been a while.  There are many times throughout the day that I think about posting.  Thinking doesn't seem to be making it happen though.  There isn't much to tell right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; didn't do so great at sleep training.  Just in the last few days have we gotten him to sleep through the night.  I think he just needed more time and possibly he was a bit sick and unable or unwilling to sleep alone.  Naps are still a bear, but he has good days and bad ones.  He does not seem to want a bed time routine.  We get to his room and he just starts wailing.  Usually I get frustrated and just put him in bed.  After about 3 minutes of crying he is sound asleep.  Maybe I'm missing the window of sleepiness and getting him in there when he is dead tired?  I will work on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanut is fine.  He's been sick off and on for a while.  Nothing serious, but some days he is more sluggish and tired than others.  Today he seems good.  He's still in his pajamas.  I don't care.  What's the difference?  We aren't going anywhere since the wind is gusting and it's snowing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a couple of nights out by myself and that was nice.  I could use an all day adventure, but I'll take what I get.  The everyday -&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ness&lt;/span&gt; is getting to me.  Everyday I watch at least one boy and change and feed him (them).  Husband helps out on weekends and I'm happy for that, but sometime I'd like a day off during the week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband has suggested a visit to the spa.  I would love to, but feel guilty about doing it myself.  Somehow if someone else made the appointment and paid for it then it would feel like a gift and not me spending a ton of money on something extra.  I tried to explain this but I don't think he understood.  I could use a massage, my shoulders and back are killing me today.  Probably because I had to pick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; up a ton yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; fit.  I like it, but would like some new games.  They are fun, but I get bored pretty quick.  Anyone have suggestions?  We rented &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; Music the other night.  It's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, but not as cool as I thought it would be.  I guess because I know how to play music it's discouraging to just flop my arms around and call that 'playing' an instrument.  I'd rather see the music and have it really teach me arm positions and things like that.  The game could really be something fabulous.  I haven't explored all of it yet and maybe it gets better, but so far I'm not impressed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-731869163928438104?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/731869163928438104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=731869163928438104&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/731869163928438104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/731869163928438104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/12/anyone-here.html' title='Anyone Here?'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7469867919775119365</id><published>2008-11-14T20:32:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T20:42:33.931-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Miracles Really Do Happen</title><content type='html'>We started sleep training &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; on Monday.  Basically, we do a bedtime routine then put him in bed and leave.  He has cried anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour.  This crying hurts me more than anything.  Knowing I could instantly stop it and don't is hard.  Tonight I gave him a bath, put pajamas on, read two books and sang a short song.  He seemed pretty wired, but I put him down and kissed his head goodnight.  Not a peep has been heard (knock wood). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news we are babysitting my almost 7 year old nephew, S.  His sister has an activity out of town and he would be totally bored there.  My sister J asked if we'd watch him overnight and most of tomorrow.  I agreed, but with zero excitement.  It's not that he is any trouble, but I just don't know how to relate to him.  Peanut LOVES to play with S, but he gets tired of him.  Maybe it's just because he's kind of awkward.  Long legs, skinny, losing teeth and kind of a dodo bird.  He's like his father in that respect.  Neither of them really ever think.  I don't expect a 7 year old to be brilliant, but I do expect them to understand certain things.  Only recently did he know the difference between a front and back door and which was located where.  I hope I can relate to my own sons more when they are his age. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband offered to watch the kids so I could go to a spa tomorrow.  I never sat down and decided where to go and what to do until last night and it was too late to make an appointment.  I guess I'll wait a bit longer.  It seems something always comes up.  Perhaps I will go clothes shopping tomorrow.  I need some jeans to wear.  The one pair that fit me are starting to wear out from wearing them all the time.  I need another pair to balance out.  Looks like I might end up taking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; with me though.  Depends on if I can squeeze out some milk or not.  He shouldn't be much of a problem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're hosting dinner for a bunch of people on Sunday.  We've been to their houses for dinner and it's sort of a nice thing to pay them back, but at the same time having so many people over stresses me out.  I hate things getting out of place.  My house is always a mess, but the chaos of so many people roaming around gets to me.  Especially, when some of those people are under age 10.  Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7469867919775119365?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7469867919775119365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7469867919775119365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7469867919775119365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7469867919775119365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/11/miracles-really-do-happen.html' title='Miracles Really Do Happen'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5089937809676959286</id><published>2008-11-12T20:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T21:05:44.426-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><title type='text'>Copy Cat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://nominivan.com/blog/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;KD&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/a&gt;did a meme so I'll do one too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s start with the rules:&lt;br /&gt;Link to your tagger and list the rules&lt;br /&gt;List 7 random facts about yourself&lt;br /&gt;Tag 7 people&lt;br /&gt;If you’re tagged, play along and pass it on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here’s my random seven:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Uno&lt;/span&gt;: I would love to go to a fat camp like the Biggest Loser.  I'm not really overweight, but I want to learn about how to eat better and exercise while still being on 'mom' duty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dos: I sing all the time.  I take an everyday task (changing a diaper) and put it to music.  I wish sometimes it sounded better, but it's fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Tres&lt;/span&gt;: If money were not an issue I would have a massage once a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Cuatro&lt;/span&gt;: I go to church and I'm learning new things, but I still have trouble believing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Cinco&lt;/span&gt;: I desperately need a new wardrobe, but won't buy any new clothes.  I have a hard time spending money on me, but no problem spending on the kids or things for the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Seis&lt;/span&gt;: I always wanted to be a movie star.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Siete&lt;/span&gt;: I'd like to have more kids, but I probably won't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5089937809676959286?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5089937809676959286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5089937809676959286&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5089937809676959286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5089937809676959286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/11/copy-cat.html' title='Copy Cat'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7030659711969473566</id><published>2008-11-02T20:32:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T20:39:55.493-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Like a Weed</title><content type='html'>My babies are growing up and I can't stop it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanut is enormous.  Tomorrow he starts going to the 3-4 year old room.  Good thing, he is a head taller than all the 2-3 year old room kids.  I'm sad he'll leave his friends and teachers.  I really like them.  The grapevine tells me the new teachers are "really cool".  I haven't seen much of them yet so the vote is still out.  At his 3 year old check up he measured 41 inches tall and almost 39 lbs.  He is still above the average lines on the charts.  Oh well.  To give you some perspective, his cousin who is only 3 days older weighs 27 lbs and is maybe a whole head and some shoulders shorter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little one is growing out of his name.  He measures about 19 1/2 lbs and almost 29 inches.  He's close to growing out of his car seat so we're looking at new ones.  He can now roll over both ways and pushes way up when on his tummy.  Once in a while he gets his legs crawling while on his tummy.  The downside is that his head just gets mashed into the floor.  I'm in no hurry for him to start crawling.  Did I mention he is 5 months old?  His clothes size is around 12 months, with the occasions 18 month item.  He doesn't seem as long in the torso as Peanut, but makes up for it with leg length.  Shirts seem to fit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, but he is so round we need big sizes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have a baby blob anymore.  Having a little one is so wonderful and I'm a bit sad he's growing up.  He is most likely my last child and I can't seem to savor him enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7030659711969473566?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7030659711969473566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7030659711969473566&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7030659711969473566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7030659711969473566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/11/like-weed.html' title='Like a Weed'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3863702315742227420</id><published>2008-10-24T20:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T20:48:42.272-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd'/><title type='text'>Shallow</title><content type='html'>Politics aside, does anyone else get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;creeped&lt;/span&gt; out looking at John McCain?  I'm just not sure I can look at him for the next four years.  The teeth are creepy skeleton teeth and he has some sort of funny lisp.  Both his hands work like the useless one Bob Dole has.  When he smiles it seems like maybe I should turn around because there is a killer with a knife ready to get me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Palin looks OK, but I'll always think Tina Fey got elected or maybe she should have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't know much about his politics, but as a person I'm a bit nervous to look at him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3863702315742227420?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3863702315742227420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3863702315742227420&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3863702315742227420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3863702315742227420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/10/shallow.html' title='Shallow'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-300471592685098972</id><published>2008-10-22T22:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T22:41:20.209-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Second Birthday Party</title><content type='html'>So last weekend was the birthday party with my family.  The plan was relatively simple.  We go to a park around 11 am to play, eat lunch and open gifts.  Then we go across the parking lot to the indoor pool.  Once everyone is done with that, they go home.  This way my house doesn't have to get all messed up and I am much more relaxed with the (eight that can walk) kids being monkeys outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, there were some problems.  First the pool pass we were going to buy was not available so everyone was going to cost $2 more per person.  Not a huge deal, but more complicated than with the pass.  We worked around this.  Second, my mother left me a voicemail the day before.  Through her sobs she said she wasn't coming.  I called my sister to get the story and through her sobs told me what happened.  So I called my mom back and she was driving to my house.  I won't go into the whole story, but for a few hours there was some serious drama.  It all worked out, but it's not the way I would have liked.  Third, one of the kids almost drowned.  No really.  He was alone and wandered to the lazy river and got swept away.  He was bobbing along when Husband and I got to him and pulled him out.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lifeguard&lt;/span&gt; was just a few feet away not paying any attention to the three year old drowning in front of him.  Once we got him out and gave him to his mother I yelled at him.  I wish I would have told the manager.  There is no excuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys had a great time and the adults enjoyed themselves too.  I made a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Spiderman&lt;/span&gt; cake that impressed the kids and made it all worth it.  We were worn out and tired, but it was a total success.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-300471592685098972?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/300471592685098972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=300471592685098972&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/300471592685098972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/300471592685098972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/10/second-birthday-party.html' title='Second Birthday Party'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6222757923074936062</id><published>2008-10-13T22:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T22:49:13.595-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Oh My!</title><content type='html'>So I feel pretty worthless right now.  On Monday, Husband meets with his MBA group to study or whatever they need to get done.  This makes the third week in a row that he has come home early to help.  I can't seem to make it past about 6:00pm without intervention.  One or both boys starts crying and I can't do jack to get them calmed down.  Husband says he is on the way and things calm down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am no comfort to my own child.  With Peanut all I had to do was pick him up and he was instantly calm.  Holding him was all he needed.  Even now that he is nearing 3 being held goes a long way with him.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt;?  Not so much.  I hold.  I sing.  I rock, jiggle, sway, shush and a million other things.  Unless he's hungry, it doesn't seem to be me he wants.  That is not to say he wants Husband, but several times that has worked out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps he has an ear infection or something else going on?  When he nurses on my right side he seems less content.  Maybe my right side tastes funny.  I don't really know.  The point is I don't seem to be able to relax him.  Many a night he cries until he passes out from exhaustion.  That is not the way I want him to learn to go to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week I have no paint jobs or anything else planned.  It is the week to get him sleep trained so he can put himself to sleep.  All day I watched him and when he started to look a little sleepy I put him down.  Poof.  He would be asleep.  Great.  I didn't think he was trained and we were done with it, but then about 6 pm he started crying and would not be soothed.  I gave him Tylenol and about 20 minutes later he nursed himself to sleep.  Was is the Tylenol kicking in or the hour he fussed and cried that put him to sleep?  Either way, it's not something I want to make a habit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one hand I'm happy Husband can get him to sleep, but on the other hand I want it to be me.  So when Husband takes him from me and then puts him to sleep I'm jealous.  The thing is, I've been having trouble with jealousy lately.  A friend is newly pregnant and announced it after Peanuts birthday party.  I wasn't really happy for her.  I wasn't really sad either.  Part of me is jealous that she gets to be pregnant and get the attention.  She is the new cool thing right now.  I'm a little sad it's not me.  Especially since no one cared when I was pregnant.  There is no sympathy for the second round.  This is her second too, but because of who she is, I'm sure it will be a big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then last night I convinced her to play volleyball with me.  She ended up hurting her ankle pretty bad.  I felt really guilty.  I didn't have anything to do with it, but felt at fault.  After thinking about it I'm pretty sure I felt guilty because I was not happy for her pregnancy.  It doesn't make sense, but that's how my moods/emotions are running these days.  I feel quite damned if I do and damned if I don't.  I'd like to paint, make money and get out of the house, but I feel guilty for hauling the baby out with me so much.  My sister manages to make me feel guilty about not going, but yet tells me to take a day off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really need some time to myself, but feel guilty about it.  Husband is supposed to have Monday and Thursday evenings for school.  I play volleyball on Sunday and have a study group meeting on Wednesday.  While I'm glad he watched the boys so I can attend both, it's not really a break.  I get so busy for the hour I'm gone, that it isn't very relaxing.  I'd love to spend some time at a spa or even home alone or out with a friend (if I had any that could go with me).  I realize Husband spends the day working, not relaxing, but he still gets out of the house and away from the kids.  I have at least one of them all the time.  Of course I'm nursing so it's harder to get away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6222757923074936062?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6222757923074936062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6222757923074936062&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6222757923074936062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6222757923074936062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/10/oh-my.html' title='Oh My!'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-190186654362981510</id><published>2008-10-11T21:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T21:28:27.482-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>First Birthday Party</title><content type='html'>Today we had the first birthday party for Peanut.  He will be 3 next week.  This party was for his and our friends.  He picked a Batman theme so we had Batman plates, napkins and I make a Batman cake too.  I'll try to post a picture later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been under the weather so it was a little rough getting ready for today.  We made it and had a good time.  Then the kids got more wild and I started to feel nervous.  There is something about all those people and rowdy kids that makes me uncomfortable.  I went upstairs for a while and did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; until I started thinking of everything happening to my house while I was away.  Luckily, folks started to leave not long afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband put Peanut to bed and the last thing he said was "I liked my party.  I liked my Batman party, daddy".  Sweet.  He seemed to have a great time.  He also got a few really cool toys too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next weekend is the family party.  I'm not as excited about that one.  My sister said she was flexible and basically left the planning to me.  So I made a plan and then she acted like that wasn't going to be fun.  Maybe I just caught her at a bad time, but she was pretty grumpy about it.  Oh well.  If the 3 other kids freaked me out tonight then what will it be like with 8 other kids here?  Plus at least our friends do an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; job of watching their own kids.  My sister just checks her mommy badge at the door.  It's like because we're at my house she isn't responsible for them.  It's like that wherever she goes.  We joke that she is the 'tornado' family.  When they come and go it's like a tornado.  You feel run over.  The house is a wreck afterwards too.  My plan is to go to a park for lunch and open gifts then go to the indoor pool to swim for the rest of the day.  No need to go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;anyones&lt;/span&gt; house for anything.  That way the wreckage is outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wiped out.  It's been a busy week.  I've been painting and planning this party and trying to keep the house up and all sorts of things.  There just aren't enough hours in the day for me to get it all done.  I'm going to take next week off from painting to see if I can relax and catch up on laundry.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; needs some sleep training too.  He doesn't seem to know how to fall asleep on his own.  We get so busy with other things that we miss his (tiny) sleep window.  Then he has to be rocked or nursed to sleep.  I'm hoping to spend some time next week teaching him how to just go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall today was good.  I got to watch my boy have fun.  Even better I got to help the fun be possible.  It's great to give a gift like that.  Nothing tangible.  Putting a smile on his face makes it totally worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-190186654362981510?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/190186654362981510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=190186654362981510&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/190186654362981510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/190186654362981510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/10/first-birthday-party.html' title='First Birthday Party'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7282449696036316101</id><published>2008-10-03T22:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T22:49:19.795-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd'/><title type='text'>Not Cohesive at All</title><content type='html'>So a lot of days are rough with an almost 3 yr old.  Yesterday was a different story.  Thursday is usually our difficult day because Husband is gone all day at work and late into the night with school.  Instead of being hard though, it was a great day.  Peanut only lost his mind twice and was easily calmed down.  I can't even think of anything specific that happened, but it was relaxed and overall a great day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course this morning when he got up he was grumpy again, but I'll take the time I get.  It took us a long time to get to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrenched my back on Monday.  I couldn't move much at all.  Today it's better, but gets cramped up pretty easy.  The worst part was yesterday when both Husband and my sister were like " aren't you better yet?"  I understand being curious, but it came out more like they were done caring.  Every time I think of talking about it or even mentioning that it hurts I bite my tongue.  Then I get annoyed when I do wince or groan in pain and they are like "what's wrong".  I'll say, my back hurts and they ask if it's again.  No.  Not again.  Still.  How about we not talk about it and I'll just let you know when it's right again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random Thoughts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do we pronounce the name Herb with the H, but the seasonings we don't even though they are all spelled the same?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Posiedon&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sp&lt;/span&gt;?) on television and it seems to have a few flaws in it.  Wouldn't someone notice their ship having issues?  I know it would take a while before they could get there, but wow.  So are they all part fish?  They seem to have a very large lung capacity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;.  I'm tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7282449696036316101?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7282449696036316101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7282449696036316101&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7282449696036316101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7282449696036316101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/10/not-cohesive-at-all.html' title='Not Cohesive at All'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8607259532469198520</id><published>2008-09-26T21:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T21:29:18.921-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Mr(s) Clean</title><content type='html'>I went to a play date today.  Peanut was in school, but I took &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; with me.  It was nice to hang out with other moms even if one kid was missing.  Anyway, we went to this gals house and it was spotless.  She made muffins and a coffee cake.  The dishes were like fine China.  Who lives like this?  My house has toys and other junk all over.  There isn't a room in the house that looks spotless.  OK, yes, my house is bigger and allows for more spaces to house more junk, but how do moms keep their houses so clean? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to have a play date at my house, but I'm not sure I could get it so clean or make any type of edible food.  I joined a mom group and once in a while I'll have to take a dish to the breakfast.  I'm already wondering how to get dressed, get the kids dressed, get Peanut to school and feed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; so I can make it to the meeting by 9am.  When do I make a breakfast dish?  I guess maybe I could get a bunch of fruit or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8607259532469198520?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8607259532469198520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8607259532469198520&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8607259532469198520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8607259532469198520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/09/mrs-clean.html' title='Mr(s) Clean'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-964563336479349256</id><published>2008-09-16T14:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T14:13:57.694-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><title type='text'>No Names Please</title><content type='html'>I don't post often.  This is my outlet.  I talk with Husband and family, but there are times I don't want them.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; seems like a good place to vent things.  I can print them and forget them.  Sometimes people comment and that is nice.  I read several other blogs, but rarely comment.  I guess I'm a lurker. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some blogs give names and places and practically an address to come visit.  While I do write about my kids I won't ever post their names or where we are or any of that information.  I don't think I have enemies, but I also don't want to find out.  One of the blogs I read is shutting down because someone in her life can't leave her alone.  They apparently use her blog to get close to her and harass her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure everyone has heard the story of the blogger getting fired over what she wrote.  I feel it's my right to say whatever I want, but would never want someone to hold it against me.  Most of the blogs I read are fun stories and rarely about a specific person.  I'll admit I do like to hear about their lives.  It feels like a friend even though I've never met them.  I love to read &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;KD's&lt;/span&gt; blog because we are friends and it gives me a chance to keep up with her.  We're both lousy at actual communication so blogs let us keep up a little easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do read a blog about a family.  They both post their names and the names of their children.  I know the city where they live, but I don't know much more.  I personally don't have the desire to find them, but someone might.  There are people out there waiting for just enough information to pounce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I thought of posting a picture of my chubby baby.  He is getting so big and fat.  I wanted to post a picture of his several chins and thighs, but thought against it.  There could be a person out there doing Lord knows what while looking at his picture.  I don't want that for any child let along my own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you read my blog, welcome.  The posts are a bit vague and I don't use real names or places.  I hope that some of it is still entertaining to you, but this is for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-964563336479349256?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/964563336479349256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=964563336479349256&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/964563336479349256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/964563336479349256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/09/no-names-please.html' title='No Names Please'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-4507088214458806165</id><published>2008-09-11T14:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T11:56:05.002-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><title type='text'>I Want a Makeover</title><content type='html'>I've been feeling down lately. Maybe it's the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanut is doing very well potty training. We had a few accidents the first two days and nothing since then. He is not telling me he has to go yet, but we're getting there. At daycare he is pretty much done. He tells them he has to go and then goes. We'll get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to a mom group meeting yesterday. The meeting was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, but I felt out of place. Sure I'm a mother and therefore I fit in, but I didn't know anyone. The lady next to me kept talking to the lady next to her since they were good friends. The gal on the other side of me was quiet and not into talking. The room was so loud I couldn't hear anyone else. Plus I had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; with me and I missed a lot of the meeting when he started to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, I feel so alone and left out. It doesn't help my mom is here to see us and spending all her time with my sister. She came for Grandparents day and I haven't seen much of her. She keeps talking about moving here so they go look at houses for sale. What no one seems to get is that she will never move here so they are all wasting their time. I would like it if she would move here, but she's been talking about moving for almost 12 years. It's not going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of the ladies at the meeting looked so put together. The hair was fixed, the make-up looked good and the clothes were nice. I felt so sloppy and frumpy. I barely made it there on time as it was so I had no time to fix hair (pony tail), do make up (some mascara and lip gloss) or put an outfit together (jeans and t-shirt). I was clean though so maybe that's a start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never get the fab treatment. I know a girl that walks in to any salon and gets a great haircut. Maybe she just has the face for it. I go in to the same place and get something that looks like my 3 year old did it with his eyes closed.  Perhaps it's low self-esteem.  I should work on that.  I keep thinking of cutting my hair, but in all my life I've only had a few good short haircuts.  Plus, then I have to fix it all the time.  At least when it's long I can throw it in a ponytail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband keeps telling me to get some clothes so I can feel better in what I'm wearing.  Sure I want to get back to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-baby size, but in the meantime I can look and feel good in what I'm wearing.  Not a bad idea, but I'm not even sure where to shop.  I used to be good at fashion and still am for other people, but when it comes to my own wardrobe I'm lacking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so happy it's Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-4507088214458806165?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/4507088214458806165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=4507088214458806165&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4507088214458806165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4507088214458806165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-want-makeover.html' title='I Want a Makeover'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-4841546163862086851</id><published>2008-08-28T22:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T22:38:23.030-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>And It's Storming Here</title><content type='html'>Today is day three of illness.  Peanut has a cough and a fever.  He seemed better this morning.  He played really well and was a fun little kid.  The fever seemed to be gone.  Then we hit some sort of pot hole. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said he had a dirty diaper (no he isn't potty trained yet - you do it) so we went to change it.  It wasn't dirty or even wet so I said "let's go potty".  I figured he had to go since he was talking about it.  So he sat and I gave him an Elmo potty book.  It has lots of buttons that make sound effects.  The story is something about Elmo and his dolly David getting potty trained. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Peanut sat there quite a while and then said he was done.  He tried to take the book to the living room and I told him it was the bathroom book to be read while on the potty.  This would be where the pot hole was lurking.  He wanted to get back on the potty to read the book.  I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; with this, but asked him if he had to go or did he just want to read.  Then he got upset.  He threw the book (breaking it) and the rest of the day went down hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had lunch and he spent most of it staring into space.  He was really tired.  So I took upstairs to nap.  We started reading books and one thing after another he lost out on the last two books.  Crying.  Two hours later, still no nap.  Some time after that I realized he was burning up again.  He sat next to me and put his little head on my shoulder.  He only snuggles like that when he doesn't feel well.  We watched television and a movie to pass time.  He ate a bite or two of toast for dinner and we were off to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were going so-so at this point.  He was totally exhausted.  His poor little eyes were all puffy from being sick and crying so much.  Bedtime is usually 8:30pm, but tonight I started at 7.  Good thing I did.  We did the routine and got into bed.  He started coughing and then threw up.  So I stripped him and the bed, got everything cleaned up and started over.  He freaked out when I left the room without taking his cup and cried for a minute, then passed out.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; started to freak out at this point too.  I fed him to quiet him and that worked for a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both boys were out of sync today.  When one went to sleep the other woke up grumpy (or didn't sleep).  When I finally got one calmed down and situated the other lost his mind.  I didn't have much time for anything today.  At one point I had to pee and remembered like 3 hours later I never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to send Peanut to school tomorrow so I can rest.  Since he had fever and threw up tonight I think it's a bad idea.  It's movie day though.  They basically watch a movie, eat lunch, nap and then watch another movie.  I don't think he would be over active, but he might cough on all the other kids.  I'd hate to start some epidemic.  I might go out of my mind though.  The next school day (rest day for me) won't be until next Wednesday.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Aack&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realized both boys are asleep.  I'm out of here and off to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-4841546163862086851?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/4841546163862086851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=4841546163862086851&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4841546163862086851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4841546163862086851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/08/and-its-storming-here.html' title='And It&apos;s Storming Here'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2858448516206263428</id><published>2008-08-26T21:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T21:59:49.730-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>On My Mind</title><content type='html'>First, my kid is sick.  Peanut has had a runny nose for over a week and in the last few days a cough has developed.  Today a fever popped up.  It is low-grade, but will be watched.  Tonight he was coughing so hard he threw up.  He was pretty upset about it.  Daddy did a great job calming him down and I changed all the bedding.  During the day he would cough and look at me with tears in his eyes as if to say 'mommy, make it stop'.  How I wish I could have.  It really breaks my heart to see my kid sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, no school for him tomorrow.  As a mother I totally understand and he should stay home and I'll nurse him to health if I can.  As an individual that is very used to sending him to school on a Wednesday I'm disappointed to have to give up 'my' day.  Even though I still have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; I can relax quite a bit.  Sure &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; cries, but I feed him and put him to sleep and things are great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.  We'll probably end up watching television for most of the day.  That's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;.  Kids need those lazy sick days.  It won't hurt him to be spoiled for an extra day.  My concern at this point is to keep the other 3 family members from getting it.  I pretty much get everything that gets anywhere near me so I'm probably going to get it.  Please, please, please do not let the baby get it.  That is the last thing we need. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, I am supposed to be helping my sister with a paint job.  I did tell her ahead of time that this is her job and I would help when I could.  I spent about 6 hours there yesterday and got 2 1/2 hours worth of work done.  It's hard to work with a baby.  He was extra fussy yesterday and didn't nap well.  I was frustrated.  When you have a baby you know you won't get stuff done, but you still want to.  Anyway, I didn't work today and won't tomorrow or Thursday.  So maybe on Friday if we all stay healthy I might get to work some.  I have to keep reminding myself the kids come first and anything after that is gravy for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told my sister tonight that I might have to stay home.  She was pretty uncaring about it.  She basically said 'whatever'.  I was a little sad until I realized the other option is she makes me feel bad for not being there.  Neither option was one I wanted, but I'm not sure there was one in between.  Maybe she could have said something about she understands, but she'll still miss having me there.  Yes.  That would have been nice to hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third.  I'm tired.  Have I mentioned that before?   Oh.  Well it's still true.  I don't feel appreciated.  Do I toot my own horn to get attention?  That somehow feels fake.  If no one notices what I do, then what's the point.  I don't want to have to list what I do so someone can then say oh wow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fourth.  Did I mention the cleaning people are gone?  It was a mix up and I don't miss them really, but I miss having a clean house.  We are total slackers when it comes to cleaning.  Right now we have an excuse with the sick kids, but what then?  I guess I'll try to find a new person soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2858448516206263428?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2858448516206263428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2858448516206263428&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2858448516206263428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2858448516206263428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/08/on-my-mind.html' title='On My Mind'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-2020182489663684105</id><published>2008-08-20T20:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T20:25:54.305-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><title type='text'>Loads of Random</title><content type='html'>We've lived in our house for one year.  We made the offer on July 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and closed on my birthday.  Then we moved in two days later.  One month later I got pregnant.  In the following months we've slowly painted and re-painted a few rooms.  There is still a lot to do, but a couple rooms look pretty good.  None of them are totally finished, but look nice enough for now.  Maybe if I had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mucho&lt;/span&gt; money to spend we could finish the decorating in a flash.  I'm going as fast as the budget allows (which is pretty slow).  That's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.  It gives me time to think of what I really want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do smokers wear seat belts?  Does anyone else think that's weird?  Smoking slowly kills you whereas a car crash could kill you instantly.  Are they afraid to die fast?  I believe smoking causes cancer and other bad stuff to infect your body.  Smoking will kill you.  Sure, it's not immediate and some will argue that you will die anyway (although sooner if you ask me).  A car crash would probably kill you pretty fast if not instantly.  So smokers are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; with dying a slow cancer death but not a quick car crash death.  Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to the dentist on Friday.  I hate the dentist.  Sure, I've never been to this one, but I already hate it.  They clean your teeth and tell you how awful you are at taking care of your teeth.  I do the best I can.  Yes, I could do better, but I don't.  So please don't make me feel bad about it.  Just fix me up and send me on my way.  Oh and could you just knock me out while you do the work?  That would be fantastic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boys are growing so fast.  Peanut will be three soon!  It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;occurred&lt;/span&gt; to me he will be moving to a new room at daycare.  He'll have a new teacher and be with new friends.  Of course he has to be potty trained first, but I think that will happen soon enough.  I hope he copes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.  Some of the kids in the 3's room he already knows from when they were in the 2's room.  I'm not sure I can handle it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The baby is growing fast too.  I looked at him today while he was asleep on my lap.  His head is enormous.  I can't believe he is almost 3 month old.  Where is time going?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister scored a couple of painting jobs.  I do hope I can work some.  I think it will be hard with the baby, but he does nap.  Part of me doesn't want to work while he naps since that is my time.  Making money seems like a pretty good motivator to do something though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cleaning service accidentally ditched me.  I got a letter saying they were sorry I left when actually I never left.  I told them to forget it.  To me good customer service is making me feel like I'm the only customer regardless of how many they actually have.  The gal started talking about how she has so many customers she can't keep track of them.  Well, now she has one less.  Apparently two less since some other person did cancel.  She try too hard to get us back either.  She said they could still come, but didn't offer to make it up to us in any way.  I thought a little discount or something wouldn't have hurt them at all, but whatever.  Saving the money is fine with me.  We'll either find someone else or I'll try to get my butt in gear and do that on top of everything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of everything else...I've been doing the washing, folding and putting away laundry, loading and unloading the dishwasher, washing the other dishes by hand and putting them away, going to the grocery store, planning and fixing meals, generally cleaning up as well as trying to sort through the disaster that is the office and oh yeah, raising two children.  Could I get a bit of appreciation?  I'm feeling a bit overlooked.  I think some of that comes from my sister.  She asked me to help her design her daughters new room and I gave ideas and made drawings.  She didn't really appreciate anything I did.  Eventually, I sort of backed away.  I wanted to help and be a part of it, but I also wanted to not be taken advantage of.  So it's done or at least getting there.  Some of it is how I suggested, but most of it is how her mother wanted it.  So much for doing something the daughter wanted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've wrenched my back.  I was on the couch and stood up with the baby and then it was stiff.  It hurts to move.  Guess I better figure out what medicine I can take.  At this point I need a heavy dose of something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer is almost over.  I think we did what we could to enjoy it.  Sometimes I think we stayed at home too much, but we made it to the pool quite a bit and did have some fun.  Having a baby takes a couple options out of your life, but we tried to just incorporate him when we could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also attempting to sew again.  I'm making new bedding for the baby.  I've bought the fabric and I'm trying to sew a bumper pad and bed skirt with only the existing ones as a pattern.  This should be interesting.  I'll try to post a picture when they are done.  If they are ever done that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to try to make &lt;a href="http://www.joycesfinecooking.com/Copycats/olive_garden_chocolate_lasagna.htm"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;for a party this weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-2020182489663684105?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/2020182489663684105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=2020182489663684105&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2020182489663684105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/2020182489663684105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/08/loads-of-random.html' title='Loads of Random'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7643882643206369011</id><published>2008-08-14T23:40:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T23:49:08.769-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><title type='text'>All Around and All That</title><content type='html'>Thoughts on Olympic gymnastics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Over the course of all these many years, why has no one designed an outfit that does not go up the rear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  One chick has a large forehead and a long nose.  Wearing your hair &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;poofed&lt;/span&gt; up on top only makes it all look that much larger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Oh &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;yah&lt;/span&gt;, the chick in #2 never smiles.  I get you are nervous and all, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;geez&lt;/span&gt;, look a little happy to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Doesn't it hurt to land on the side of your ankles? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  It freaks me out to watch the balance beam.  I took gymnastics for a while and hated the beam part.  Of course I have no balance so maybe that's why I didn't do so well.  I can't imagine being there and going all those flips on something barely as wide as your foot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  I get that they are around the World from me and all, but does the stuff I want to watch have to be on at midnight?  I have a baby for crying out loud.  He's going to wake up soon and well, cry out loud.  I need to sleep when he does, but this only happens every 4 years.  It's not like I can catch the re-run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  Another chick has one eyebrow way out of sync with the other.  It's annoying when they do a close up on her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go USA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7643882643206369011?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7643882643206369011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7643882643206369011&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7643882643206369011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7643882643206369011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/08/all-around-and-all-that.html' title='All Around and All That'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5187307479015545241</id><published>2008-08-13T22:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T22:46:21.251-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>No One in the Bedroom</title><content type='html'>So, I had a baby not long ago.  There are lots of books and whatever that says you should wait 6 weeks to do the deed after the birth.  That's great.  I was just sort of feeling slightly back to normal at 6 weeks.  So here we are at almost 11 weeks and lets just say we haven't had 'relations' in a while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one hand I think we should sort of get it over with.  The first time I mean.  After that I think it will get better and we'll get back into the groove, so to speak.  On the other hand I'm not interested so why force it?  I guess because if we don't get to it, we may start having some issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm beat at the end of the day.  Keeping up with the kids and the house is draining.  Plus, Husband is in an MBA program and he is crazy busy with school.  Two nights a week he is home late and the other nights he is usually doing homework.  We rarely go to bed at the same time.  Not much love happening there.  I'm not complaining.  I know he has to study to do well at school and I want him to do well.  It's just that sometimes I want him to pay more attention to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess maybe 2 months isn't that long and I should give us a break.  I was just thinking about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5187307479015545241?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5187307479015545241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5187307479015545241&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5187307479015545241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5187307479015545241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/08/no-one-in-bedroom.html' title='No One in the Bedroom'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6343336811753014954</id><published>2008-08-13T22:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T22:33:43.311-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Water Boy</title><content type='html'>We went to the Lake over the weekend.  I actually suggested it on Friday.  I figured it would be one of the last weekends for us to go this summer.  I told husband that it was a lot of work to pack the kids and dogs, but we should go anyway.  In reality it's more work than fun, but it's nice to  go to see my father-in-law. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we left early Saturday morning and only had to stop once to feed the baby.  Once we were there we hopped on the boat and went for a ride.  It was great.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;FIL&lt;/span&gt; drove and we sat with the kids.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; sleeps and Peanut hangs on for dear life.  He does great if he can sit on a lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband took Peanut on the Jet Ski.  He loves it.  Shortly after take off he starts squealing with delight.  It's fantastic.  He gets so excited about it.  I swam with him a bit too.  The water was warm like a bath tub.  We both put on life jackets and floated about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday evening we went out to dinner and then started the fun over again on Sunday.  It was a great weekend.  I had a lot of fun.  The boys both did great the whole time with minimal fussing.  The weather was great for boating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a glimpse of future &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;visits&lt;/span&gt;.  My boys are going to love going to Grandpa's house.  Not only do they get to see Grandpa, but all the water activities are great too.  Anyway, it was a lovely weekend.  The ride home, not so much.  We left late since we were having so much fun and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; had issues.  We had to stop to feed him twice and he was grumpy for quite a while.  I think he gets tired of being in the car seat and the car in general.  Peanut did fine, he got to watch a movie on the portable DVD.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6343336811753014954?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6343336811753014954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6343336811753014954&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6343336811753014954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6343336811753014954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/08/water-boy.html' title='Water Boy'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7653843688756099704</id><published>2008-08-05T21:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T21:21:20.623-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Lock 'Em Up</title><content type='html'>We went to the pediatrician for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; and ended up talking more about Peanut even though he wasn't with us.  We asked about Potty Training and sleep issues.  He didn't tell us anything new about PT, but did tell us about the sleep issues.  He suggested doing the bed routine as normal and then closing the door and not going in.  We've been doing it for almost a week and it seems to be working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nice thing about this is it takes us out of the equation.  We don't give him any attention this way.  Basically his room is on lock-down.  No books, toys or anything.  There's not even any &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;light bulbs&lt;/span&gt; in there.  I know it sounds crazy, but he got into absolutely everything.  I don't care.  If my child will go to sleep at bedtime I'm willing to keep it up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7653843688756099704?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7653843688756099704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7653843688756099704&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7653843688756099704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7653843688756099704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/08/lock-em-up.html' title='Lock &apos;Em Up'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-5291759605648666873</id><published>2008-07-29T13:10:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T13:13:33.477-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Singing</title><content type='html'>Do you hear that? That is the sound of angels singing. Wonderful isn't it? No, really. It's the sound of both my children asleep. At the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nap time has become a struggle again. Last night I hit on something that might work for a while though. Peanut kept crying so I went in there and scooped him up. I sat in the chair holding him like a giant baby. He hated it. I told him if he acted like a baby he was going to be treated like one. He settled right down and said he was a big boy. Off to bed he went without a fuss. Of course this was over an hour after bedtime, but whatever. Today at nap it worked again, but it didn't take nearly as long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-5291759605648666873?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/5291759605648666873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=5291759605648666873&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5291759605648666873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/5291759605648666873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/07/singing.html' title='Singing'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8460073445699590499</id><published>2008-07-24T21:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T18:28:37.218-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>You Go Poo in the Loo</title><content type='html'>Peanut has been going potty at school. At least 2 out of 3 times he goes in the potty. I think he would get that third time if they weren't usually outside. Anyway, the teacher suggested it might be time to start potty training. Gads. I have been waiting until he was ready and I guess he is getting pretty ready. At school he gets candy. One M&amp;amp;M for trying and two for going. He loves it. That's the first thing he tells me when I go get him. "Mama, I got candy today" I know some people think it's gross to get food for going potty, but for him it's a fabulous motivator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how smoothly the training will go with an 8 week old. There are many times he is so upset I can't really put him down to take Peanut to the bathroom. I know it doesn't work if the parents aren't willing to drop everything (so to speak) and get the kid to the bathroom. I guess for a while I can live with putting the baby down. It's not like I won't ever put him down, I'm just saying there will be moments when it will be difficult. I hope those moments are fewer and far between.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we have decided to start this weekend, he seems fairly against going.  We'll start it and see how it goes for a while.  I suppose if we have to stop we will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot believe my little boy is growing up so fast. Getting him out of diapers would be great, but this means he is a boy, not my baby. Even though I have a new one, he is still my little baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So any advice? I could use lots of suggestions and helpful hints. What made it go fast? What slowed you down? What would you do differently? I guess we'll start in the next week or two. We'll get all the supplies ready and talk to the school. Wow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8460073445699590499?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8460073445699590499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8460073445699590499&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8460073445699590499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8460073445699590499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/07/you-go-poo-in-loo.html' title='You Go Poo in the Loo'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-1153269776699241527</id><published>2008-07-24T21:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T21:41:47.080-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><title type='text'>Clean it Up</title><content type='html'>So even though I'm not working and we bought a house, had a baby and bought a new AC all in the last year, we hired a cleaning service.  See, with the new baby I wasn't getting any cleaning done.  We put it off thinking we would get to it eventually.  Months later (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Eww&lt;/span&gt;, I know!) we still haven't gotten to it.  Something about a constantly crying two year old, a breastfeeding newborn, grass that refuses to stop growing and just look pretty, an MBA to get and oh yeah, a full time job just makes it difficult to find time for anything else.  I keep thinking 'this will be the weekend we get something done' and each weekend we do not get anything done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To help with the dirty house part I hired someone to clean my house.  It's pretty expensive, but about average as far as cost goes.  It's a luxury I'm willing to spring for, for at least a little while.  It's wonderful to have the bathrooms clean and the floors mopped.  I only wish they came more often.  So far it's every two weeks, but that is &lt;em&gt;way&lt;/em&gt; better than what I'd be doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some days I think I would really like to go back to work.  Partly for extra money and partly for some 'me' time.  Once the little one is a bit older I may try my hand at something part time.  I really want to nurse him for about a year and I figure I may as well stay home and enjoy everything in that time.  Our daycare doesn't take kids until one year anyway so I'm in no hurry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-1153269776699241527?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/1153269776699241527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=1153269776699241527&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1153269776699241527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1153269776699241527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/07/clean-it-up.html' title='Clean it Up'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3393238914378882582</id><published>2008-07-22T21:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T21:55:46.356-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd'/><title type='text'>Help Yourself</title><content type='html'>I wanted to shower today.  Peanut was downstairs watching a kid show and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; was in the bouncy seat in the bathroom with me.  I quickly showered and got dressed.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; was asleep so I went to check on Peanut, knowing how easily he can get into trouble. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was sitting on the couch where I left him with a spoon in his hand.  I thought it odd, but not really unusual.  He has all sorts of odd toys.  Anyway, there was also a phone box on the couch too.  Husband got a new cell phone and the box was in the toy box to play with.  Upon closer inspection of the box, there was some sort of goo in it.  At first I was puzzled.  What was it?  I tentatively sniffed the contents and identified it as yogurt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I sort of panicked a little.  How did he get it?  Was there a big mess in the kitchen?  I went in there and found the yogurt cup sitting on the counter.  He apparently opened the fridge, got the yogurt, opened it, poured it into the phone box, grabbed a spoon and hopped back on the couch to finish the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't mad.  I was more amazed he did all that without making a fuss or mess.  I simply told him he had to eat his snacks at the table.  He ran right in and finished the yogurt.  I guess I'll have to shower at night when there is another adult at home to watch him.  There is no telling what he could get into.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3393238914378882582?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3393238914378882582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3393238914378882582&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3393238914378882582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3393238914378882582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/07/help-yourself.html' title='Help Yourself'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3575970970322976897</id><published>2008-07-03T18:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T18:48:11.894-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Geez!  It's July.</title><content type='html'>Our AC went out.  It is totally dead.  We spent last night with all the windows open and several fans going.  I won't say it was pleasant, but it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;.  Today was fine since the weather was cooler.  We keep the lights off and the fans going and that makes a huge difference.  Someone is coming tomorrow to install a new one.  The stupid thing is we haven't even lived here a year and the thing was new just before we moved in.  It's not even a year old and it died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, Peanut is becoming more testy.  He tries at every moment to get away with things he knows are wrong.  He is hitting more, yelling more and all around being testy.  We're trying to be patient since we just brought home a little brother and all, but come on already.  Plus we realize he is two and that's what they do.  Still.  It would be nice to not have a half dozen time outs during a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The baby is doing well.  He's growing like a weed.  We go for our first check on Monday so we'll see where we are on the charts.   I think it will be just like Peanut and he will plot his own line in space.  What is in my milk anyway?  I should bottle it and send it to starving countries.  Forget oatmeal and rice, have some fattening milk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3575970970322976897?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3575970970322976897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3575970970322976897&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3575970970322976897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3575970970322976897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/07/geez-its-july.html' title='Geez!  It&apos;s July.'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-7693115221748153668</id><published>2008-06-21T20:59:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T21:13:06.989-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Argh</title><content type='html'>Let me start by saying I love my family and have never been happier.  That being said I think the postpartum phase has begun.  I've been OK for the first few weeks, but I'm still not myself.  It's not really the typical depressed, don't want to go anywhere or see anyone feeling.  It's more the, tick me off and I'll punch you in the face sort of feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired.  I'm jealous of anyone and everyone sleeping more than me.  I'd love to do something all my own for a day even if that meant going to work for eight hours.  I'm tired of cooking, cleaning, keeping things in line and laundry.  I'm tired of Peanut having no memory of things he is not supposed to do and doing them so often I'm on the brink of screaming.  Is two years, eight months the point at which they snap and can do nothing but test me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of still looking/feeling pregnant.  I know it's only been three weeks and I'm not expecting it to be different so fast, but my clothes don't fit and I'm tired of being sore.  I think as a reward for birthing a child, nature should get your body back to you a lot faster.  It would make dealing with things a lot easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day I have given all I have to Peanut, the baby and the house and there is nothing left for me or Husband.  He tries to hold my hand or do some other loving gesture and I can't stand it.  I just want to be left alone.  It doesn't mean I don't love him, it's just I have nothing left.  At night when the baby wakes up he usually gets up with him first and I go to the bathroom and then stumble in to feed the baby.  Husband goes back to bed until the next feeding.  On one hand I think this makes sense since he has to get up and go to work while I can stay home and sort of lay around all day.  But, on the other hand I hate that I have to be awake for an hour to feed, change and get baby back to sleep.  Then I get to do it again in two hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's another thing.  That whole three hour schedule is bull.  I realize you count from the beginning of a feeding to the next, but when it's an hour (or more) until you get done then you only have 1-2 hours before the next feeding.  I guess that's some sleep, but just when you get comfortable it's time to get up again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel that breastfeeding is the best option for my kid.  It's healthy and good for me and not to mention cheaper than formula.  But there are times I think it would be a lot nicer to let someone else take a feeding or two.  Husband did offer to feed baby a bottle of pumped milk, but I'd still have to get up and pump so I may as well feed baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll get over all of this as soon as I get some more sleep and me time.  There are things I'd like to do that I just can't yet.  Once I can do them I think I'll feel a little more human.  Until then, just don't tick me off or you might get that punch to the face. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-7693115221748153668?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/7693115221748153668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=7693115221748153668&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7693115221748153668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/7693115221748153668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/06/argh.html' title='Argh'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-6232235965848675689</id><published>2008-06-19T11:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T07:13:43.868-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Boys</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SFqO6ciWHUI/AAAAAAAAAAg/rcKxE68zIP4/s1600-h/boys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213636653378575682" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SFqO6ciWHUI/AAAAAAAAAAg/rcKxE68zIP4/s320/boys.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-6232235965848675689?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/6232235965848675689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=6232235965848675689&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6232235965848675689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/6232235965848675689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-boys.html' title='My Boys'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdlX7OiNDNg/SFqO6ciWHUI/AAAAAAAAAAg/rcKxE68zIP4/s72-c/boys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-1001631454895253150</id><published>2008-06-15T09:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T09:08:32.020-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Take Two.  This Makes Four.</title><content type='html'>Peanut went to school on Friday and I spent the whole day snuggling with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt;.  We mostly watched television and slept on the couch.  Once in a while I thought he felt warm, but since we were so close and he was wearing a sleeper I didn't think much of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then yesterday morning he felt very hot to me and husband.  Husband took his temperature and it was 100.4.  We called the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ped&lt;/span&gt;. office and they sent us straight to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Childrens&lt;/span&gt; Mercy to be treated.  The upside is he seems to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; other than fever.  The downside is that they test for everything by doing several cultures that take 48 hours.  So we are stuck here until Monday for sure and longer if things don't turn around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did this same thing with Peanut.  He was only 3 days old instead of 15, but a newborn is a newborn.  The nurses are all pretty nice and take good care of him.  The doctor was nice, but seemed a little odd to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanut got shipped off to his aunts house (again).  We owe that woman a lot for watching him so much.  We've been at a hospital 4 times in the last couple months.  Unreal.  Though I will say we're being watched over because it's turned out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; each time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-1001631454895253150?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/1001631454895253150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=1001631454895253150&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1001631454895253150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1001631454895253150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/06/take-two-this-makes-four.html' title='Take Two.  This Makes Four.'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-236389913541898242</id><published>2008-06-14T10:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T09:00:29.032-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>It's the Day After Your Birthday</title><content type='html'>Once the baby was born he stayed on me for quite a while. Other than getting weight, height and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;apgar&lt;/span&gt;, he didn't go anywhere. It was nice to not have him taken away first thing. His color and breathing were good so I got to keep him for almost 20 minutes. Then the nurse came in to clean him and dress him and all that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His weight was listed at 9lbs 13oz. and height was 21 inches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I got him back again and I was all situated with ice packs and whatnot we just spent family time together. The nurses disappeared and only came in to do the vital checks. It was really nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister brought Peanut later in the day. He was a little wary at first. I think seeing me like that made him a little nervous. I was holding the baby when he came in and he said "that baby came out". He did really well. We gave him a bag of presents to unwrap and he thought that was great. He wanted to hold the baby and even cried when he was taken away. He seemed to understand that the baby wasn't in mommy anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They didn't stay long. We kept him in the room for most of the night but did send him to the nursery one time. He just wanted to suck and not nurse and my boobs were too sore for that. We sent him out so we could get a little rest. They brought him back screaming for food about 3 hours later. Glorious sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did the weight and vital check on him while he was in the nursery at 3 am. When they brought him back the nurse told us he weighed 9lbs 1 oz. This was a 12 oz drop. We figured on of the measurements had to be off. Turns out it was the original weight that was off. He probably weighed more like 9.03 or 9.05 instead of 9.13. It doesn't really matter because he was still big, but it's sad we won't ever know the true weight. 9.13 is in the book, but it's not right. That's the only thing about the whole experience that makes me sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day was busy. He was checked by the pediatrician, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;circumcised&lt;/span&gt;, photographed and visited by more friends. That was all before 10am. Then the paperwork lady came in and snapped at us to finish the birth certificate. We didn't have a name picked out yet. She was really rude about the whole thing. We put the do not disturb sign on the door and it took us about 10 minutes to come up with the name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we just hung out and got to know the little guy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-236389913541898242?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/236389913541898242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=236389913541898242&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/236389913541898242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/236389913541898242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/06/its-day-after-your-birthday.html' title='It&apos;s the Day After Your Birthday'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3232543256802139506</id><published>2008-06-13T09:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T10:19:07.958-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>It's Your Birthday!</title><content type='html'>Due date 5/20.  Pre-term labor at 33 weeks stopped with medication.  Medication stopped at 36 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The due date pretty much came and went.  We talked with the doctor and scheduled an induction for 5/30 at 6 am.  It was a lot later than I wanted, but it was the only opening for the doctor and hospital.  You take what you can get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On 5/23 I woke up sick and started having different contractions.  I thought for sure it was labor, but was not.  This was trip #2 to the hospital with no baby coming out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on Thursday 5/29 I took Peanut to my sisters house to stay while we had baby.  I stayed for dinner and got him ready for bed.  I hated leaving him there because he is a hot kid and her house was about a 1000 degrees.  Anyway, that night husband and I were doing last minute preparations and I said it was a bummer we couldn't have just gone in that night to get it started.  He replied that it was nice for us to get to sleep in our own beds one last time.  So we went to bed around 11 or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was asleep and dreaming when I felt something gush.  I either said out loud or in the dream 'uh oh'.  Then it gushed again and I said/dreamed 'uh oh' again.  At that point I jumped up, grabbed a towel and ran for the bathroom.  I flicked the light on and just sat there pondering what to do.  I took off my wet clothes and went to get some dry ones.  Husband asked what was happening and I calmly said "my water broke".  He bolted upright and started mumbling hospital.  I tried to explain we were supposed to call the doctor and/or hospital first before just showing up.  He was very tired as it was just midnight and we'd only been asleep for about an hour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time I wasn't having any contractions and felt a little weird heading to the hospital without them.  No need to fear though, they started like clockwork on the way, coming about every 3 minutes.  By the time we got to the hospital, in the room and situated they were pretty strong.  By now it was about 1:30am.  I was finally starting to dilate a little too.  I think I was a solid 2, maybe 2 1/2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I labored through the contractions for a while, but they started to be pretty intense.  I was worried it was too early for drugs.  I didn't want to slow labor down at all.  No need to worry.  About 4 am I called the nurse for an epidural.  I was dilated about 4-5 so I was happy to go ahead and get one.  The lady that did it was nice and explained everything, but talked so quiet I could barely hear her.  Anyway, after a little while I didn't feel anything.  She gave me a button to push if the pain got more intense and I needed more drugs.  Woo hoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to sleep at this point, but they took my blood pressure every 15 minutes and each time it was below the acceptable level so the alarm went off.  I had to page the nurse every time.  She asked if I was dizzy or anything and since I was mostly laying there trying to sleep I didn't really feel too different.  After an hour of this she called the drug lady back in.  They gave me something to elevate my blood pressure.  It went from 90 over 40 to 166 over something.  This made me pretty sick and I started to throw up.  Lovely.  After a few minutes of this it was back down to 90 over 40 and I felt better.  I'm not sure why this wasn't a problem, but they didn't do anything else at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shift change happens at 7 am so I got a new nurse.  She wasn't quite as friendly as the first girl, but ended up doing a great job.  I finally rested for a while until around 8:30am.  The contractions started being much more intense and I felt the pain again.  I was breathing through them even with the epidural.  I kept thinking maybe this meant I was getting close to having the baby.  So I pushed my drug button and paged the nurse.  The doctor came in around the same time too.  At 9:11 am I was fully dilated and effaced.  The doctor said I should start pushing.  So we did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the first push I started to throw up again.  I was so disappointed.  I didn't want to be sick, I wanted to get the baby out.  I was so mentally ready to do what I had to do to get it out.  Fortunately, I wasn't sick long and she gave me oxygen to inhale while I pushed.  I was surprised how much this helped me feel better.  Anyway, I pushed as best I could for 40 minutes or so.  Then she said we should try tug of war.  It was a great position for me.  She tied a blanket in a circle so I could hold one side and she held the other.  I could pull in front of me instead of on the sides of the bed.  Just a few minutes later and we were ready.  The doctor came in and said to stop pushing and they got everything ready.  Then it took one more push and he was out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was so big, slippery and wiggly that I though the doctor was going to drop him.  The nurse next to her grabbed his lower body and they sort of shoved him onto my chest.  He looked just like Peanut.  It was like having him all over again.  They sewed me up and wiped off the baby.  We were so happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3232543256802139506?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3232543256802139506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3232543256802139506&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3232543256802139506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3232543256802139506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/06/its-your-birthday.html' title='It&apos;s Your Birthday!'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-1497215347931251862</id><published>2008-06-11T20:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T20:24:38.707-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>More to Come</title><content type='html'>We had the baby on 5-30.  Boy.  Over 9 lbs, 21 inches long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been home adjusting and getting used to things.  Everyone is doing great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lots of things to post and only one hand to type with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the sake of remembering what to post here are the topics I want to type about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  The birth story&lt;br /&gt;2.  Peanuts reaction to a new baby&lt;br /&gt;3.  My mother (lots of things here, but I'll remember as I go)&lt;br /&gt;4.  The differences in the first child vs. the second&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I ever sleep again?  Thumper has been sleeping pretty well for an almost 2 week old.  Last night he went 6 hours between feedings.  I'd guess he slept about 4 or so hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a good eater and a decent sleeper.  The only trouble we have is burping him.  He doesn't seem to want to let them out.  It takes up to a couple hours to get them all out.  Today he's been doing better at it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-1497215347931251862?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/1497215347931251862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=1497215347931251862&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1497215347931251862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/1497215347931251862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/06/more-to-come.html' title='More to Come'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-4867008458986640678</id><published>2008-05-28T21:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T21:53:02.072-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Smile and Nod</title><content type='html'>As I continue to be pregnant and near the end I thought I would compile a short list of things to and not to do concerning pregnant women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring her a drink, snack, magazine or something so she doesn't have to get up.  She needs to rest while growing a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buy her flowers, chocolates, or whatever else might brighten her day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Offer to rub her back, feet or any other body part of her choosing to ease sore muscles.  Better yet, offer to send her to a spa to have a pro do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch any other children for a while so she can have some relaxing alone time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have her make a list of things she would like done.  Do one or two of them once in a while.  She'll feel like things are getting done without having to strain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buy her something fabulous to congratulate her for carrying a baby for 9+ months without going insane (much) or killing anyone (though they deserved it I'm sure).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Encourage her daily (or by the minute).  Let her know she is doing the best she can and you are proud of her.  Pregnancy is tough, she is like a soldier in a war.  She is working harder than you know and deserves some credit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do Not:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask if she is &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; pregnant.  Yes, she is.  Unless she doesn't know you at all you will get a call or email announcing the birth.  Asking every day only reminds her she is &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; pregnant.  If she doesn't know you at all then you're just being creepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask if she is ready to be done.  Yes, she is.  She knows this better than anyone.  Don't act like it is a burden to you, she's got a lot going on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask if she is having contractions or if labor has in any way started &lt;em&gt;yet&lt;/em&gt;.  If it's your business to know she will tell you.  Asking this over and over only reminds her that, no, nothing is happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say wow, gosh, oh my, holy cow, or any other exclamation indicating you are amazed she is so big and has not yet exploded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask if her doctor is crazy or imply he/she is in some way not capable of delivering a baby.  She has picked her doctor and put her faith and trust in this person.  Do NOT shake her faith now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Point out the due date has passed.  She knows.  She is well aware of that date and it's passage without giving birth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell her how to feel, think or act.  Yes, she may be irrational, but that is her right.  If she is crying, acknowledge it, don't tell her to stop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-4867008458986640678?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/4867008458986640678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=4867008458986640678&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4867008458986640678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4867008458986640678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/05/smile-and-nod.html' title='Smile and Nod'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3623522542976680033</id><published>2008-05-27T20:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T20:13:50.344-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>I'm Not a Doctor and I Don't Play One on TV</title><content type='html'>Last week my child skinned his knee in the driveway.  It was finally healing a little.  Tonight I suggested we go outside and while walking around the block he fell.  The only injury?  Tearing open the wounded knee.  Not a scratch on him otherwise.  At first the tears were from pain and the scare of falling, then they were from losing the jelly bean he was eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He seems terrified of bandages and won't let anyone touch it or look at it.  We had to hold him down a bit to clean the concrete out of it.  He will let you put 'lotion' on it.  Lotion is his word for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Neosporin&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing sadder than seeing a 2 year old limp around because of a boo boo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just not ready for my boy to get hurt, let alone bleed.  I know I have a lifetime of this to come, but it really tears me up to see him hurt in any way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, he got more jelly beans.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3623522542976680033?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3623522542976680033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3623522542976680033&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3623522542976680033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3623522542976680033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-not-doctor-and-i-dont-play-one-on-tv.html' title='I&apos;m Not a Doctor and I Don&apos;t Play One on TV'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-4564113570509505430</id><published>2008-05-24T13:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T13:36:33.318-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Odd'/><title type='text'>Indiana Jones</title><content type='html'>I might spoil it for you so don't read if you want to watch the movie with no opinion in your head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it was an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; movie.  It had action, adventure and an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; storyline.  I thought it was a horrible Indiana Jones movie.  It was weird.  The other three are some of my favorite movies and this one just didn't cut it at all.  There were parts that were just thrown in for effect and didn't really have anything to do with the plot.  Other things were so far fetched I couldn't believe they were part of the movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-4564113570509505430?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/4564113570509505430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=4564113570509505430&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4564113570509505430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/4564113570509505430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/05/indiana-jones.html' title='Indiana Jones'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3450263835199100779</id><published>2008-05-23T21:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T21:30:49.735-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>If at First You Don't Succeed, Pack Your Bags and Go Home</title><content type='html'>When I woke up today at 7 I felt yucky.  Something was off.  I got up and tried to pinpoint the problem.  Mostly I felt a little sick.  Then the contractions started.  These were not the same contractions I had been  having for weeks.  These were more painful, in a different location and just felt like the ones I needed.  We went through our morning and the contractions got stronger.  I didn't want to do anything.  We took Peanut to school and then called the doctor.  She suggested going to hospital to get checked and we would go from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom and sister, J, were with me as well as Husband.  We started to play some cards to pass the time.  Somewhere just after the middle I started to not feel so hot.  The urge to vomit was pretty strong and only intensified with each contraction.  Suddenly other voices were annoying.  The sound of the cards were annoying.  Everything was grating on me.  I said I needed to stop and J asked if I wanted them to leave.  All I could manage was a nod.  She and my mom happily went to lunch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was hot, cold, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;agitated&lt;/span&gt;, uncomfortable and in pain.  I wanted it to stop.  I wanted to get up and run away from the hurting.  After a few minutes of this I got up to go to the bathroom.  I did my thing and when I got back I could drink water and felt mostly fine.  My feet were cold, but otherwise no hot/cold flashes.  The color in my face returned and I felt pretty good except for the contractions still coming every 2-4 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse came in a while later and said I was being sent home.  I wasn't dilating and though I was having a good contraction pattern it wasn't true labor.  Husband was upset and I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; until I got in the shower tonight and the disappointment hit me hard.  I've done this twice with no baby.  I'm not sure how much more I can take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This felt just like the last time.  The urge to vomit, not feeling well, regular contractions, trip to hospital were all the same.  Also the same were slightly dehydrated, urine culture that didn't indicate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;UTI&lt;/span&gt; but was yucky (whatever that means) and eating a turkey &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sandwich&lt;/span&gt; for lunch the day of or slightly before all this happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best guess is that I'm allergic or aggravated by something used to process the turkey at the grocery store deli.  I've had it twice since we moved/got pregnant and both times ended up in the hospital.  My body feels sick and tries to get rid of the yuck including starting contractions to get baby out.  Lots of water later and I seem to be better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be holding a baby by now.  I should be in the hospital deciding on a name and who he/she looks more like.  I should be through with labor and working on recovery. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know eventually we will have this baby, but it was a hard day and I'm tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3450263835199100779?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3450263835199100779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3450263835199100779&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3450263835199100779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3450263835199100779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/05/if-at-first-you-dont-succeed-pack-your.html' title='If at First You Don&apos;t Succeed, Pack Your Bags and Go Home'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3861163680938408018</id><published>2008-05-15T15:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T15:49:23.872-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Time Gets Longer and Longer (and Harder and Harder)</title><content type='html'>I got a call today from the doctor office.  They can't do the induction on the 27th so they moved me to the 30th.  On one hand it's no big deal, what's three days later?  On the other hand it's three days later.  I'm done now.  I'm ready to walk into the hospital and get this baby out of me.  My emotions are all over the place, I have no energy and I'm done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty tired of people telling me when to have the baby.  Making a playful guess as to when you think it will arrive is OK.  Telling me it's just not convenient for you on such and such a day is not OK.  This baby will get here whenever it does.  I'm working on what is right for me and baby.  Other than Husband and maybe the doctor, no one really gets a say here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some friends have been out of the country on vacation and before they left they (mostly the wife, the husband is pretty cool) kept telling me not to have it while they were gone.  Who cares?  It's not like she is the doctor or even related to me.  My own mother keeps telling me that the 27th is too late and I should do it sooner.  Well, fabulous, when is a good time for you since you seem to have an in with the hospital and are going to deliver this thing?  Hospitals have schedules and so do doctors.  While they can't plan every birth they can plan the scheduled ones so that it doesn't interfere with another delivery or surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty scared at this point.  I'm having a hard time doing anything and wonder how I will manage with a baby.  I know at least I'll be able to put my shoes on, but I'm still going to be very tired and unable to function.  I'm terrified for Thursday nights to roll around since Husband will be gone all day and night with his class.  How will I ever manage two children all day and night?  Pizza anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This pregnancy has been spent worried about the future.  I've even regretted being pregnant.  I know that may offend some folks, but I'm sorry it's how I feel.  No one has re-assured me either.  Husband only says things will be fine if I point blank ask him.  He hasn't spent much time telling me he's happy about it.  He just says "things will be fine".  Well, yes, I'm sure they will, but will we still be married?  Will I kill anyone?  Will I live?  I'm having a hard time feeling like this was a good idea.  Even some friends and family have questioned our thinking in having another one so soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There has been very little time excited during this pregnancy.  I never got excited about the nursery.  It became more of a chore than something I wanted to do.  This time around I wanted the room to look either very boy or very girl.  Peanuts nursery was so neutral and I wanted it more boy (once we found out of course).  So we decided to just wait to do the nursery until the baby was born.  I started planning a boy room and a girl room so we could get started right away after the birth.  Then I got tired of it.  I think we'll just use what we have from the first one.  It's neutral, but could go either way.  It was cheap and is still pretty cute with little animals on it.  It's just not what I originally thought, but all the joy has been sucked out of it so now I don't care.  We'll do like we did with Peanut and make a specific room tailored to this kid in a couple years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm never going to make it 15 more days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3861163680938408018?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3861163680938408018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3861163680938408018&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3861163680938408018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3861163680938408018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/05/time-gets-longer-and-longer-and-harder.html' title='Time Gets Longer and Longer (and Harder and Harder)'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3157021845514137359</id><published>2008-05-14T14:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T14:25:46.329-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Keep on Counting</title><content type='html'>Still no baby.  Six (6) days until due date.  We are scheduled to induce on the 27&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;.  I'll be 41 weeks.  My doctor is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; with an induction, but would prefer baby to come naturally.  She is worried about forcing the issue (so to speak) and causing a C-section.  I'm very opposed to surgery.  I know lots of people that have had them and all turned out fine, but it still freaks me out.  If it came down to it I would get through it.  If I can do it the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt; ha way I'm on board with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I've been pregnant for years.  I guess knowing so early makes for a much longer wait.  It will be worth it.  I'm getting really curious as to if it's a boy or girl.  I'm also a bit worried about how big this kid will get in 13 more days.  It could be huge!  The doctors keep telling me I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;accommodated&lt;/span&gt; a big baby so I can do it again.  Well, sure.  Peanut was 9 lb 3 oz.  What if that was my limit?  How much bigger can I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;accommodate&lt;/span&gt;?  I don't really want to find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy has been up and down.  For the most part he has been great.  He wants to watch television all the time.  I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; with some, but he would sit all day long.  He says funny things too.  The other day we were all in the van and Husband was blowing his nose.  Peanut says "mommy, daddy getting his boogies out?"  Well, yes.  I know it doesn't seem funny here, but we laughed about it at the time.  He does sweet things too like sing to the baby belly.  Except the only words he knows are 'no more monkeys jumping on the bed'.  He doesn't even know the whole song.  It's cute though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time for a nap.  Mine of course.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3157021845514137359?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3157021845514137359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3157021845514137359&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3157021845514137359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3157021845514137359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/05/keep-on-counting.html' title='Keep on Counting'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3919100800996015515</id><published>2008-05-07T14:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T14:26:24.914-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>One Day It Will Be Over</title><content type='html'>38 weeks and 1 day today. I'm losing my mind. Easy things are getting much more difficult to do. Taking a shower wipes me out. Right now a week stay at a spa sounds fabulous, except for the whole pregnant thing. Maybe once &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thumper&lt;/span&gt; is older I can go away to a mommy spa. They have those right? Where they pamper you and rub your feet and feed you good food? I want that. Of course since I'll be nursing it will be a bit harder to get away for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanut has some sort of issue right now. He wants very much to sit in my lap and be loved. I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; with that, but it's not his usual thing. Maybe he senses baby is on its way and his time with me is getting shorter. He is also getting the last of his two year molars. Ouch! We had a horrible morning today and now that I think back on it I'm not sure why. Nothing too awful happened, we just were not in sync. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been painting with my sister J. She got us a huge paint job. I wasn't going to do any of it, but I've been helping every day for a week and a half. I only work a few hours, but it's starting to take a toll. Peanut has gone with me on his non school days. Those nights have been awful. I think he gets too much stimulation. I think tomorrow we'll stay home and do our own thing. J will just have to understand I can't do it. I really wanted the extra money, but I've worked enough I think I should get a nice chunk of change. I'm not even sure how much the whole job will get since things keep getting added on. Thankfully, we are on the downhill stretch. We just have the upstairs to do and any touch ups downstairs. Then she wants new lights hung, then she wants this and that done. The list is never ending. We stop with the money stops flowing though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt; is ever coming out. My guess is we'll have to be induced like we were with Peanut. My doctor comes back on Friday so I guess we'll start seeing her again. Who knows what she will think. The guy I've been seeing said he would talk to her about it though. He said they won't induce until after 39 weeks. Who knows?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3919100800996015515?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3919100800996015515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3919100800996015515&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3919100800996015515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3919100800996015515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/05/one-day-it-will-be-over.html' title='One Day It Will Be Over'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-3519745202362925620</id><published>2008-04-28T21:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T21:22:00.589-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons learned'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Gross and Etc.</title><content type='html'>If your child says their leg is wet and they are not in a bath tub or swimming pool expect bad things to follow.  Peanut had an odor about him so I was getting ready to change him.  He walked over and said his leg was wet.  I asked if he wet his pants and he said no.  Instead, he pooped his pants.  Lovely.  Baths for all tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later we were playing with a wood giraffe toy.  It has a hole in the nose so it hooks on to other animals to make a train.  Peanut had been sticking his finger in the zebra nose and getting it stuck.  Then he turns to me and says "I not pick giraffe nose".  I replied that that was good advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the weekend he came up to me out of the blue and said "I have a nose.  There are boogies in my nose."  Anyone have a tissue?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This kid is crazy, but entertaining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-3519745202362925620?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/3519745202362925620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=3519745202362925620&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3519745202362925620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/3519745202362925620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/04/gross-and-etc.html' title='Gross and Etc.'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29003183.post-8192098827197593792</id><published>2008-04-23T15:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T15:26:03.457-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Adventure Part II - Our Lives Are Not Dull</title><content type='html'>So my sister D and her five (5) children came to visit us on Saturday afternoon.  The plan was for her and the kids to come to my house to play and visit, eat dinner at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;McD's&lt;/span&gt; so the kids could be wild monkeys at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;play place&lt;/span&gt;.  Then after dinner she would load up the lot of them and drive to the airport to pick up her husband J.  He had been out of the country for the last month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other sister K came to visit for the weekend, arriving on Friday night.  She is very handy and came to help me put up a wallpaper border and do some other little projects around the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other, other sister J and her kids came to our house on Saturday afternoon to hang out and visit with all the other kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all five adults and eight children load up into various vehicles and head out to see Ronald.  We sit in the play area and have our lovely dinner.  Then the kids start playing like the wild monkeys they are.  We have about an hour before D needs to leave to get husband.  She was telling a story and gesturing with her arms when her shoulder dislocated.  We were concerned but not panicked as this has happened many, many times.  Usually she can relax a bit and it goes right back in.  This time was different somehow and we called 911 just to be safe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As luck would have it the hospital was only about a mile away and they arrived quickly.  The downside is they couldn't treat her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;on site&lt;/span&gt;.  They had to load her up and take her away.  So we sent my sister J with her.  I drove our van home with two kids, K drove D's van home with four kids and my husband M drove J's truck home with two kids.  Once at my house we sent M to fetch D's husband at the airport, but as luck would have it J's husband was working near there and managed to get him.  So three adults managed to watch 8 kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 8pm we got all pajamas on and got them situated for bed.  We let the older kids stay up a little later, but eventually put them to bed too.  Needless to say everyone stayed the night even though that wasn't the plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D went through quite a bit, but thanks to medication doesn't remember much of it.  It took three adults using some brutal force to get her arm back in place.  She had an IV, some sort of conscious anesthesia (she was awake, but doesn't remember a thing) and a nausea drug.  She made it home around midnight and went straight to bed.  Her arm is in a sling until she sees a doctor at her home, which I guess is supposed to be today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not the plan we had for the weekend, but all in all it worked out.  I'm very thankful everyone was here to help.  Me being so pregnant I couldn't do much, but it all worked out.  She has had this problem for many years and this time the doctor strongly suggested surgery.  Though D is not a fan of it, she is all for it I think.  After 20+ years of this happening I think she is finally tired of it.  I only hope her husband and the kids take good care of her and let her relax a little.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29003183-8192098827197593792?l=mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/feeds/8192098827197593792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29003183&amp;postID=8192098827197593792&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8192098827197593792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29003183/posts/default/8192098827197593792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mutt-a-roo.blogspot.com/2008/04/adventure-part-ii-our-lives-are-not.html' title='Adventure Part II - Our Lives Are Not Dull'/><author><name>Mutt</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
