tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-306217462024-03-13T04:34:59.269-05:0015 MinutesI could do a million and one things in 15 minutes. Instead, I pick a new addiction - blogging.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger305125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-64618701121932391172012-08-01T08:32:00.000-05:002012-08-01T08:32:37.532-05:00Bookshelf Redux: Part 2For the second bookcase, I decided to cover it with children's illustrations because I love children's illustrations - the older the better.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2F_RqKYxR5xr00TXclgOpKMpPtqbXIurFgaNRXXOm7vOv_dRaYAR-8se2ylvGL_-Yy8Gc3svkxgjLszEQaWx-4-6bFSsy1NUJtmgzWa63B42POVSgG63c3fKYxeZxwAD2-45/s1600/bookshelf+redo+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2F_RqKYxR5xr00TXclgOpKMpPtqbXIurFgaNRXXOm7vOv_dRaYAR-8se2ylvGL_-Yy8Gc3svkxgjLszEQaWx-4-6bFSsy1NUJtmgzWa63B42POVSgG63c3fKYxeZxwAD2-45/s320/bookshelf+redo+001.JPG" width="320" /></a>For some reason, I thought it would be easier to cover it with pieces of writing instead of painting. Jury is out on that on.</div>
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After that dried, I started arranging the illustrations.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_bSX-iSxouJMRMvq7BMq6iZQpA_7K6HuuKGcVEzq8kz4DAx6JB7cghq2kOlkN_h009klY2iC7VYPwBuw9BCiUgbCnpw32mWvAWjV3LiuHDHHGqIWFJw20anjeEUDbTkqSrry/s1600/bookshelf+redo+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_bSX-iSxouJMRMvq7BMq6iZQpA_7K6HuuKGcVEzq8kz4DAx6JB7cghq2kOlkN_h009klY2iC7VYPwBuw9BCiUgbCnpw32mWvAWjV3LiuHDHHGqIWFJw20anjeEUDbTkqSrry/s320/bookshelf+redo+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Illustrations I really liked so I took close ups:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CQKQKjlM20tqd__bwFUs_iNBW2pKMh-YmB8V1oAi5X1o5kKnCSrMeYqOHZUDoiu9h8ie6ak0CzsM3HJkYpIVwFNOf8Zu9eoxgx5ByRKHjpyXTdewAT-WNk-BeTae1bn2LhAw/s1600/bookshelf+redo+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8CQKQKjlM20tqd__bwFUs_iNBW2pKMh-YmB8V1oAi5X1o5kKnCSrMeYqOHZUDoiu9h8ie6ak0CzsM3HJkYpIVwFNOf8Zu9eoxgx5ByRKHjpyXTdewAT-WNk-BeTae1bn2LhAw/s320/bookshelf+redo+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is how I feel, sometimes. =)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenTQ8sXZPyzQdNssj1kMiX5l5ELWVgIYTbM4bIr73PX3jaJN-B5X3_r1v7SVXNYsLQayD5NYrKsc3LTlzpggT1_9PeeJhZDIH3benznw-VYhDYpOacf5QiMH_wn-suBqumlh0/s1600/bookshelf+redo+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjenTQ8sXZPyzQdNssj1kMiX5l5ELWVgIYTbM4bIr73PX3jaJN-B5X3_r1v7SVXNYsLQayD5NYrKsc3LTlzpggT1_9PeeJhZDIH3benznw-VYhDYpOacf5QiMH_wn-suBqumlh0/s320/bookshelf+redo+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The little boys remind me of Baba.</div>
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Finished product:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSErSIRyxU_8yms-U1_frR3l5zAYQmHGlv1ruikzCrOC-AuOY4dJ4zzJnZMP4d6X03dpEgr88w86to7VqJh1LcFHNmBvBp6lpybNT_VyAjAwgTemAPrvJKCkO2IzwIces6TYxs/s1600/bookshelf+redo+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSErSIRyxU_8yms-U1_frR3l5zAYQmHGlv1ruikzCrOC-AuOY4dJ4zzJnZMP4d6X03dpEgr88w86to7VqJh1LcFHNmBvBp6lpybNT_VyAjAwgTemAPrvJKCkO2IzwIces6TYxs/s320/bookshelf+redo+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Panthalassa likes her new bookcase! She's arranged it how she wants it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Tcpyus0vZ52V74yl2mo3RjaL4bD9qV3MnVJFlFUQIaq4lZwuvM2qGw-J_3OfTOU8temFm74_1RHL61T_wflLdpvmPf8QlwUnoDbvJ3lFjrOThsUQmADs63Ag3fRu_H26Qan2/s1600/bookshelf+redo+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Tcpyus0vZ52V74yl2mo3RjaL4bD9qV3MnVJFlFUQIaq4lZwuvM2qGw-J_3OfTOU8temFm74_1RHL61T_wflLdpvmPf8QlwUnoDbvJ3lFjrOThsUQmADs63Ag3fRu_H26Qan2/s320/bookshelf+redo+014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-38587800800477719212012-07-31T14:02:00.001-05:002012-07-31T14:02:57.981-05:00Bookshelf Redux: Part 1My sister and brother-in-law are moving to Haiti which means they are getting rid of a lot of priceless treasures and I am getting said treasures. I am now the proud owner of two new to me bookshelves (and a bunch of other crap, some of which I didn't know I needed until they dropped it off)!!<br />
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The bookcases were, well, ugly. Boring. Plain.<br />
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And the perfect excuse to try something I've been wanting to try for a while: adding fabric the back.<br />
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Baba picked out a blue fabric with clouds and I fired up the glue gun.<br />
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Ta-da!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nnui8i7e4NuezlpJ1UynBN0G3pEQcYAMamSTwmoRrtqyWk5eIrL4K5QvP-2OLXy4gTSKKAdfkUQzcQ_kNZtI-5H8a3KG26glvpD0pZ5BUADLVVPqo6wLONkziv4janssWTPy/s1600/bookshelf+redo+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nnui8i7e4NuezlpJ1UynBN0G3pEQcYAMamSTwmoRrtqyWk5eIrL4K5QvP-2OLXy4gTSKKAdfkUQzcQ_kNZtI-5H8a3KG26glvpD0pZ5BUADLVVPqo6wLONkziv4janssWTPy/s320/bookshelf+redo+001.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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And full of books:<br />
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One other bookshelf to finish, in all my spare time, of course.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-72915812204923295082012-07-30T08:41:00.000-05:002012-07-30T08:41:42.047-05:00Child Labor!For my aunt who is smart enough NOT to have facebook:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwrfPn4HJCqU5maLy2jAe2xX1VbsIzk0-ySN3rnE2nZFnQPbvIZ5A0iOLAHzdac84IW409MOaRotWE' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-19927948045784511932012-07-10T09:11:00.000-05:002012-07-10T09:11:21.189-05:00Summer "Vacation"One of the biggest luxuries of homeschooling is we get to set our own schedule. Both Baba and Rudy love doing school (Rudy will spend hours writing her name and Mom over and over and over) so it is some what of a punishment to have to take days off. We decided that we'd switch to a more year round school calendar, our shorter summer break would allow us to take more time off during the tradition school year. Currently we are on our summer break. We scheduled 4 weeks off. We are on week 3 off and they couldn't take it any more! I was printing skip counting worksheets to use when school started and they've spent the morning skip counting.<br />
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Which means, I have to spend the afternoon redoing the curriculum I planned for the first week of school. Sigh. I guess that's the price I pay for getting my kids excited about learning.<br />
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Of course, Panthalassa had to join in the fun. She loves books. They are very tasty and fun to throw, but a few (or a lot) damaged books is a small price to pay for early literacy. That's what I tell myself anyway.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-5393552776528676792011-09-22T14:50:00.002-05:002011-09-22T14:56:08.743-05:00Arr!<div>Monday was Talk Like a Pirate Day. We did more than talk like a pirate - we were pirates. Arrr, me hearties. There was a lot of walking the plank and even more bad pirate jokes.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9h-j18VbROFBuEy8TL8go-H4R6nsJtDxLs-QFo7G93wGWrM2dg5bAZU_t_ro5AA7o8wgyeWhE9PZFdY6t8kd8W47Fz_blLmXlar-Gsa60Tnp3bmRdnVTiJKLB7scdclap8LTM/s1600/DSC04995.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9h-j18VbROFBuEy8TL8go-H4R6nsJtDxLs-QFo7G93wGWrM2dg5bAZU_t_ro5AA7o8wgyeWhE9PZFdY6t8kd8W47Fz_blLmXlar-Gsa60Tnp3bmRdnVTiJKLB7scdclap8LTM/s320/DSC04995.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655274125132664594" /></a><div>What's a pirate's favorite state?</div><div>Arrrr-kansas (its Kansas for pirates)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfdoh210ZXHB4XZajRtc6yv_IEugKR1QwAXCYQubGrOd4QhqJK3kA8GW7TEAxUIL5djYXPLnhLcPAbxAG_5ajHuW7Gi9Y4FCCKXi3OZgvT7q6Xcl8Pbb1GkKMZuafxlKNPdHlw/s1600/DSC04992.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfdoh210ZXHB4XZajRtc6yv_IEugKR1QwAXCYQubGrOd4QhqJK3kA8GW7TEAxUIL5djYXPLnhLcPAbxAG_5ajHuW7Gi9Y4FCCKXi3OZgvT7q6Xcl8Pbb1GkKMZuafxlKNPdHlw/s320/DSC04992.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655274116494594226" /></a></div><div>What's a pirates favorite vegetable? </div><div>Arrr-tichokes!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBGNv0dPzWKB5N6f5hgugNwXKXt0Rz0wSdVP0hHMUjPimAIdp118eDrTO4L0OwIKRC8KXwWsWo6JD5bcw992nJaYBD5Fz15eNF5dd9Bycp7XBH1QHZ60VbUIQkNVaJWxt0pq_/s1600/DSC04990.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBGNv0dPzWKB5N6f5hgugNwXKXt0Rz0wSdVP0hHMUjPimAIdp118eDrTO4L0OwIKRC8KXwWsWo6JD5bcw992nJaYBD5Fz15eNF5dd9Bycp7XBH1QHZ60VbUIQkNVaJWxt0pq_/s320/DSC04990.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655274104683763010" /></a><br /></div><div>What's a pirates favorite sea? </div><div>The arrr-tic. </div><div><br /></div><div>And so on. Thankfully the kiddos, I mean, pirates, were bored with being in costume before we left for Target. Although, I've taken superheroes to Target, so I guess pirates would be allowed at Target, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>I need to find more holidays that involve dressing up.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-69177002056734980042011-09-22T14:47:00.002-05:002011-09-22T14:49:12.099-05:00Gym ClassThey can do this for hours!<div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyys8jUFeQ5djK3hymTXHbPrz5lfsvL2WWSkczgpWUb9hlMKlLvBnuX9270aQiD19CT1LJHIujq8Ps' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-73086407272539586962011-09-12T14:04:00.002-05:002011-09-12T14:08:22.630-05:00Cause and EffectThis weeks book is "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" so we are working on cookies (delicious and educational) and cause and effect. Like:<div><br /></div><div>If you decide to homeschool your kids</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQ61eYPc3sUxhcxORZrl4drp4L5wDfGw5Z3-O2MCRERcxglhrw9oF0oJCD_E69LsiXw7sXrzS2_-V-9xOLWtXcURa358r5L1yjUUtyc3PUtHrfDdXtoya8ZpQwaSBdkOEdIE5/s320/DSC04988.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651551600596434146" /></div><div><br /></div><div>your groceries will probably get eaten before they get put away.</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwi0ttCds8cYJJZOsQUW0RLpCOPfOzjs_NWq-mQOPAyzNb_1hJS7BV6uYBlvKfEnOgTvMb4Z_Vk_7obZy5aSGECUtt3WsbB49_w-RUQK-NOGkk4_-66RM_luvSXxEZ8x-_gNRF/s320/DSC04989.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651551607006509106" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-77080571741649892462011-09-06T14:58:00.003-05:002011-09-06T15:09:27.801-05:00Off to the Kitchen Table (School)!<span style="font-size:100%;">Going "back to school" involved the following: sleeping in (until 8:30 which is somewhat of a miracle in this house), doing long awaited school work in our PJ's around the kitchen table (Baba has been BEGGING to do school since we started summer break) and the requisite first day of school picture for posterity. Rudy started what she calls Princess Preschool which mostly involves a lot of coloring and pretending to read and write like her big brother who is in his second year at Scooby Doo Elementary. Guess who named the school? Not me! Panthalassa slept through the adventures.<br /><br />Funny thing about that first day of school picture. When school is around the kitchen table EVERYONE does school. Including the cat. So everyone had to be in the picture. Including the cat. Mister Wili insisted on walking in front of the camera several times and making the kids laugh hysterically.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MRbhsBDna_mC35fJROSfhO5eVga2h7oNUbk9GFLlFkEDjNGkXxBL6d-ROCEM7E9kKdCw3L1aKKwpS1d5-W9JxbtMVUCRNDgCdyHlmIaLv-cmE_HnBMnhtXVUaxkxDUKtDSwc/s1600/DSC04956.JPG"></a><br /></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MRbhsBDna_mC35fJROSfhO5eVga2h7oNUbk9GFLlFkEDjNGkXxBL6d-ROCEM7E9kKdCw3L1aKKwpS1d5-W9JxbtMVUCRNDgCdyHlmIaLv-cmE_HnBMnhtXVUaxkxDUKtDSwc/s1600/DSC04956.JPG">:<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MRbhsBDna_mC35fJROSfhO5eVga2h7oNUbk9GFLlFkEDjNGkXxBL6d-ROCEM7E9kKdCw3L1aKKwpS1d5-W9JxbtMVUCRNDgCdyHlmIaLv-cmE_HnBMnhtXVUaxkxDUKtDSwc/s320/DSC04956.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649339536356288738" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Y6MDfS5rgJks8HLz4dxU1LAvnOeJyq9MijXKPhxBNjaIWV1ByIXrTOB6Jsl7Fr9cASx13HGDTqn8X4Mb2KRSdOyDQosYPghy8EmHebxtMGG94AsZEaD8GDnlotXHUUw7utgK/s1600/DSC04953.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Y6MDfS5rgJks8HLz4dxU1LAvnOeJyq9MijXKPhxBNjaIWV1ByIXrTOB6Jsl7Fr9cASx13HGDTqn8X4Mb2KRSdOyDQosYPghy8EmHebxtMGG94AsZEaD8GDnlotXHUUw7utgK/s320/DSC04953.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649339525783228770" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTfNwi5z0ZQhVOwk5qO3apMOdsRi3RD-HXz9044v51wOyUKHmvsfj975pBc7O9oFm8w9pE5j0-DqnwuBnVTJo8-Up8jbJ4lckwPgaq7NMSfK8Cjiost-0ddJVbM88NDq9M1i2/s1600/DSC04947.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTfNwi5z0ZQhVOwk5qO3apMOdsRi3RD-HXz9044v51wOyUKHmvsfj975pBc7O9oFm8w9pE5j0-DqnwuBnVTJo8-Up8jbJ4lckwPgaq7NMSfK8Cjiost-0ddJVbM88NDq9M1i2/s320/DSC04947.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649339519199671058" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZsh3F73uxEm7lxqSawXlWM7PZzZ-CUWSeDIY8GrbRGc9trO7dLYpzhE60AXe_lr2cYt4IhMm1PsyKnYKyj961gD47F-yCvsxWWxe8glV4kxpnimyRvSQJt9GlPt-w0xFhWchB/s1600/DSC04949.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZsh3F73uxEm7lxqSawXlWM7PZzZ-CUWSeDIY8GrbRGc9trO7dLYpzhE60AXe_lr2cYt4IhMm1PsyKnYKyj961gD47F-yCvsxWWxe8glV4kxpnimyRvSQJt9GlPt-w0xFhWchB/s320/DSC04949.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649339515980641682" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg55LYrLhTVKuYu8ygGKIDaw-cr-nYlKJVltly0IXBHLtIO75Eej2ADqRh1KExN8PzlBsA9Td4x6vQdf-NGsguwbTgfEqq4DSxgSabPwGD5GkGG4SIQcXaibq4edaQ7bR__0r_T/s1600/DSC04961.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg55LYrLhTVKuYu8ygGKIDaw-cr-nYlKJVltly0IXBHLtIO75Eej2ADqRh1KExN8PzlBsA9Td4x6vQdf-NGsguwbTgfEqq4DSxgSabPwGD5GkGG4SIQcXaibq4edaQ7bR__0r_T/s320/DSC04961.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649339547194935874" border="0" /></a><br /><br />At least the kids thought it was funny and perhaps if I photo-shop the pictures together. Of course that would entail learning to photo-shop. Hmmm. Maybe Baba can learn photo-shop next week at Scooby Doo Elementary.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-35680439773703908842011-05-25T15:54:00.002-05:002011-05-25T15:58:37.063-05:00Princess Flower Girl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFF1De5KgTVc25ey0iMq1uN-3_MohsDl-K101s3XbFizmKfvt_zQBVDgWERulShyphenhyphenIlhuaxfuW0ZF9BF37gLShUo-0vfvmelqTKeV94m-bmHXZ5A4fEw1hy2gkBaiHdCcA24Sgr/s1600/DSC04822.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFF1De5KgTVc25ey0iMq1uN-3_MohsDl-K101s3XbFizmKfvt_zQBVDgWERulShyphenhyphenIlhuaxfuW0ZF9BF37gLShUo-0vfvmelqTKeV94m-bmHXZ5A4fEw1hy2gkBaiHdCcA24Sgr/s320/DSC04822.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610760447293498658" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUdiC4H60iXzXnNkom49dE9ZDcwHdvpwv2SQUzM5sN1qjEJPaBhv5q_lcLGo0fTBA5nuAGh2zsq7FzX5GpxuWbpeDf0YE4d23LuX32Bgj3wWzyKPDjNGJysOMobAg0v7SIupD-/s1600/DSC04821.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUdiC4H60iXzXnNkom49dE9ZDcwHdvpwv2SQUzM5sN1qjEJPaBhv5q_lcLGo0fTBA5nuAGh2zsq7FzX5GpxuWbpeDf0YE4d23LuX32Bgj3wWzyKPDjNGJysOMobAg0v7SIupD-/s320/DSC04821.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610760439466875330" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Ll7i4Skgrb9XnDZlYOwRiL0RI8GG7vyoPyiqpnc71SA4iMyzeym_l-ZebuperwGBEib7rzz1yabkqv3jxPQCNA6HDi1NNfoTIpAzbDLqIIuTnVydqeAKQmnWFUeC9EjeJijD/s1600/DSC04828.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Ll7i4Skgrb9XnDZlYOwRiL0RI8GG7vyoPyiqpnc71SA4iMyzeym_l-ZebuperwGBEib7rzz1yabkqv3jxPQCNA6HDi1NNfoTIpAzbDLqIIuTnVydqeAKQmnWFUeC9EjeJijD/s320/DSC04828.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610760429349201490" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRonC4qzSgn6O0_XkSc3iILTN3orcWcG-ZYd30uAnr_kQUCriH0Vg92VBvbDyb9O8rJocwJwwQMn5_AZ5BFZcqtS7-prdaLP4271CXSF5iaV2qnH9vNMKXAL7Dea6HICGlRRm/s1600/DSC04832.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRonC4qzSgn6O0_XkSc3iILTN3orcWcG-ZYd30uAnr_kQUCriH0Vg92VBvbDyb9O8rJocwJwwQMn5_AZ5BFZcqtS7-prdaLP4271CXSF5iaV2qnH9vNMKXAL7Dea6HICGlRRm/s320/DSC04832.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610760427717338642" /></a><br /><div>Rudy was in her first wedding this past weekend. She was a total doll. Thought she needed to be in EVERY picture - including the ones of just the bride and groom. She loved wearing her "princess flower girl" dress, loved the shoes, the curls, and the flowers in her hair. She listened so well all day (usually, listening and following directions is a HUGE challenge for her) that I'm thinking about letting her wear her flower girl dress all day, every day.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll be listing her on craigslist if anyone needs a flower girl. =)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-31014322251505821632011-05-25T11:45:00.003-05:002011-05-25T11:51:22.304-05:00Who Needs Sleep?You know how you are supposed to put down a baby when they are still awake so they learn to drift off to dreamland on their own? Yeah, always thought that was bullwhickey. When Baba was a baby the ONLY way to get him asleep was to walk, quickly, in circles so he would get dizzy and close his eyes. I think he napped for a total of 4 hours between the time he was born until he turned 3 years old when we gave up on napping.<div><br /></div><div>Rudy, on the other hand, has always been a good napper (granted she outgrew that business almost a year ago now), but her napping was a production that involved 5 to 15 minutes of screaming at the top of her lungs to let me know that she was NOT tired (riiiight!) and was NOT going to nap. I always won.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today, the older kids were hungry so I laid Panthalassa in her crib to throw some lunch together. She was AWAKE. She fell asleep on her own and is still sleeping 45 minutes later. I do believe in miracles!</div><div><br /></div><div>I would also like to know how it is that my two month old sleeps better than my six year old. Panthalassa slept 12 hours last night. Baba stalled until 9 pm when he finally lost his battle with sleep and was up his usual 6. He was moaning in his sleep again (hello nightmares, go away!) and is a little tired (read: teary eyed) today. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-86361045166528837782011-03-17T09:27:00.004-05:002011-03-17T09:38:59.715-05:00Bad Guys!There is a girl who lives across the street whom we call Annoying Neighbor Girl, ANG, because, well, she's annoying, she's a neighbor, and she's a girl. She is also bossy, obnoxious, disrespectful, and if she was my child she'd get slapped if she acted how she does. I am not above hiding in the basement when she rings the doorbell and pretending we aren't home.<div><br /></div><div>Yesterday, she come over BEFORE Baba made it home from school. She asked if she could wait for him to come home on our front step. Um, no. Baba doesn't really like playing with her (hmmm, wonder why) so I always like to give him an out. There has been a couple times when she's been here waiting for him to get off the bus and he has burst into tears and said, "What is she doing here? I don't wanna play with her." Polite? Not really, but you'd think she'd get the hint. Which she doesn't. I sent her home. Baba's bus comes and he runs up the driveway, excited to be home. She slinks up the driveway so I don't notice and she can play. </div><div><br /></div><div>Baba wants to play so I let her come over (just call me Mother Theresa). I specifically tell Baba to do the best he can to stay out of the puddles in the backyard because its not that warm, the water will be freezing, and snow pants are not SCUBA gear. I look out the window to check on ANG and see her standing over a sled full of water and Baba SITTING in a puddle. I open the door, tell her to go home, and Baba to get in the house. NOW.</div><div><br /></div><div>Although, I don't yell, I do make Baba burst into tears because he knows that I'm not happy (and when Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy). He comes in the house and I begin interrogation only to find out that ANG told him to sit in the puddle because that was part of the game. Because I am such a good person, I do not run across the street to strange the girl (by the way, she is in 3rd grade). Baba and I discuss how its always okay for him to say, "No!" if someone asks him to do something he knows is wrong (like sitting in a puddle in his snow pants). And Zippy and I are always willing to be the bad guys. If he doesn't want to do something, he can always say that his parents would kill him if he did it. Easy out. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fast forward to dinner. Rudy has downed her usual half a gallon of milk and wants more so she turns to Zippy and says, "More milk, bad guy!" Turns out they do listen to my lectures. At least, they pick out the best parts.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-5870818421295861432011-02-26T16:54:00.003-06:002011-02-26T17:02:26.077-06:00PanthalassaThis morning we had a 3D/4D ultrasound done for fun and it was fun. We were lucky enough that my grandparents (Panthalassa's great grandparents) were able to attend as well as my aunt, baby cuz, parents, Little Ditty, Poonch II, and my cute little family. <div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEuHJHTrXHr8WSI95rDmcvdVvy560hMFAk6hVHzCv5I982vBpGfoaR3h1StcW83VWU5f9FajOtBaB_bc26o-RM7uAf4Qwi-c-_eWdSZKxkekp8dvj_9CZcmZxA9H80pq3yzK6x/s320/Panthalassa+Face.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 315px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578137072198295138" /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_U7v8-NY0y93zAiydM_0SZDMujnR1ceJde978oYOGfISX5zizN0WR5WyY3No2k9Zh4h2kYy2Rl8AP1OVYG2gvVJc9aW1DXRzy3tEGLtKg9AvdftbDbrAZfb99KRrXjH03k5o/s320/Ready+to+Fight.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578137076516882242" />She looks likes she is ready to fight! Baba was a little disappointed she didn't have a lightsaber and/or sword in my belly, but soon enough her brother will have her armed and ready to battle.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-19686068038948936982010-07-09T17:32:00.002-05:002010-07-09T17:59:27.834-05:00Baba gets his wish grantedAs most of you know, Baba has been lobbying for another sister since we brought Rudy home from the hospital.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzdFcv1qlfKRC1j3efrfGdhBmE_xlqAKTb5HZsLenZXIjXDoDUvHnBMN9bFc2wbYPTIyqi2KWBECTA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>Its kind of hard to see, but Josh is looking at our stick figure family on the window of the Jeep. This morning I sneaked out and added a baby picture. We ran errands and he just wouldn't noticed so as soon as Zippy got home from work we headed out with the camera. Baba is so EXCITED! </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-6323608118106213292010-06-05T13:32:00.002-05:002010-06-05T13:34:57.111-05:00If Baba had a million dollarsZippy and I took <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Baba</span> to the Saints game last Saturday night. On the way to the game, we stopped at a gas station to get a lottery ticket (the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">powerball</span> was up to $200 million - I could get a lot of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pedi's</span> for $200 million). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Baba</span> asked what a lottery ticket was (we buy them all the time, can't you tell?) and I told him its a game for big people - you give the game a dollar, you pick 6 numbers (I think, again, we don't do this often) and if you match all the numbers you win a lot of money. I asked him what he would do if we won the lottery.<br /><br />He thought for half a second and said, "Take my sister shoe shopping."<br /><br />I love that kid.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-70137578400329897392010-05-04T11:31:00.004-05:002010-05-05T20:53:17.922-05:00GrapesI solved the mystery of the missing grapes.....<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAPdT2c8FG3HZg4ftZjQ0_0gQ86QuLeTs4_BmzD0xF00sbj5zteAEoiWGDsgm1brPCGx0cICtdCTZopoq0nwsFO11wmdfx10KkcZF3mgCXLdxUZI7llekGymb8dJBOik1YLV6c/s1600/Eating+Grapes+Playing+in+the+Mud+005.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 240px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467968808647120114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAPdT2c8FG3HZg4ftZjQ0_0gQ86QuLeTs4_BmzD0xF00sbj5zteAEoiWGDsgm1brPCGx0cICtdCTZopoq0nwsFO11wmdfx10KkcZF3mgCXLdxUZI7llekGymb8dJBOik1YLV6c/s320/Eating+Grapes+Playing+in+the+Mud+005.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzP4zp-74kpa6lZ057pyoDbHFqNDhRNeqkfBlw-qXJtzUFd5aN3VuU7AFnaSTgaCLDrawG7_khjIoH5L95kjH2GRVTeb9XxBRxK_UIUo9N9_KffEg7LQ7ejc75Ks_MU4BUUOL4/s1600/Eating+Grapes+Playing+in+the+Mud+001.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 240px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467968802759187554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzP4zp-74kpa6lZ057pyoDbHFqNDhRNeqkfBlw-qXJtzUFd5aN3VuU7AFnaSTgaCLDrawG7_khjIoH5L95kjH2GRVTeb9XxBRxK_UIUo9N9_KffEg7LQ7ejc75Ks_MU4BUUOL4/s320/Eating+Grapes+Playing+in+the+Mud+001.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqErj_za7deMrTgq3VSHv864SJXWp5XkphG1Nswob0k93Kwif-2E9iNz7wy8loSsDNRvwzCg6PbUBYohHkeO0HmvnxVp_f9VCtmpckIkks_tC_fbKl_mMuXkY62d1WKi2mxWXA/s1600/Eating+Grapes+Playing+in+the+Mud+007.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467968818876689058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqErj_za7deMrTgq3VSHv864SJXWp5XkphG1Nswob0k93Kwif-2E9iNz7wy8loSsDNRvwzCg6PbUBYohHkeO0HmvnxVp_f9VCtmpckIkks_tC_fbKl_mMuXkY62d1WKi2mxWXA/s320/Eating+Grapes+Playing+in+the+Mud+007.JPG" /></a><br /><br />I guess I should be proud - they worked together, without fighting, to solve a problem - how to get to the grapes I had just washed in the sink.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-15644506705614477372010-04-18T20:44:00.002-05:002010-04-18T20:47:52.847-05:00Its quiet, too quiet.....There is nothing worse than quiet kids. Quiet kids are ALWAYS up to no good. My kids were quiet so I went to investigate.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwHFD4yr_G42NnYgHcId1z8WmI6K0EwQ8A96q309E8bzH9pglP7BRsaJfRnDo8fEGRqMwvaMBlALcxtt1ryx6e3VeBHP_Cwwj0BV_lac7187l4hqgllTVTGxeU-ME4FRoN8cm/s1600/Kids+Reading+Birthday+Party+005.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 240px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461659150433468338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwHFD4yr_G42NnYgHcId1z8WmI6K0EwQ8A96q309E8bzH9pglP7BRsaJfRnDo8fEGRqMwvaMBlALcxtt1ryx6e3VeBHP_Cwwj0BV_lac7187l4hqgllTVTGxeU-ME4FRoN8cm/s320/Kids+Reading+Birthday+Party+005.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXiiyJrQAKxhbB-QQaBpa89BB8iri79UVlbOzT5ZSrQqca_JwkTIrVe6-BK5MzLmIlPymxWqsGXlLpt8pbJBLCEKqfnsCgH7LZs2uIkJwr3n8copWJTr2AY-Zm0dCGjk3RHNK/s1600/Kids+Reading+Birthday+Party+007.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461659160197343378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXiiyJrQAKxhbB-QQaBpa89BB8iri79UVlbOzT5ZSrQqca_JwkTIrVe6-BK5MzLmIlPymxWqsGXlLpt8pbJBLCEKqfnsCgH7LZs2uIkJwr3n8copWJTr2AY-Zm0dCGjk3RHNK/s320/Kids+Reading+Birthday+Party+007.JPG" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-90588435611724900052010-03-24T12:03:00.001-05:002010-03-24T12:07:15.723-05:00Stinker!<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw6UDxjySIDMaedw77FSD15avXqaOB9jDEEkuSXU4ScIhM4GpPI-v_i0-L_Q6jliHNCRjKkT_FMdA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-12294777457653377632010-01-19T09:32:00.003-06:002010-01-19T09:38:22.454-06:00Who, who?Call me a bad mom, but my children do not listen to kids music. Baba may go to kindergarten not knowing that if he is happy and he knows it he should clap his hands, but at least he'll be able to sing "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Is you is, or is you ain't my baby" among others.<div><br /></div><div>Rudy is at the point where she is repeating or attempting to repeat EVERYTHING we say. She also tries to do everything her big brother does. Lately, Baba has been into "Who let the dogs out?" and jazz music.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyiTJ3ITYxqsYs4fAI3iEor9Ti7DVw-20mXsdjSTMxQkCPoRBhVgIkdA9PNjCMdAn5t4pNgUk5U-w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-43005866838527347212010-01-15T17:47:00.005-06:002010-01-15T17:52:30.292-06:00Harry Potter Brushes His TeethI was getting dressed one morning and returned to the bathroom to find this:<div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJpKpD6dBHTrD_fhhLGSWAiaTuJd3cOjNh-MGZh47JZ-FkP3iWbI6EGdFINOulVPO4zycetAWBa8DCgTaeK9su8X3xK03cE4SBILj9B_RFL15upE2VXgxkVPQ-GV6OUmw3U4D/s320/Bella+005.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427117848621449938" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-WUJbQZDPOcXzpOpPmg-mADosiHU8jq1RVwYo-MGXxJELJfn8HeoZDZmC6w-ElkGCBLmf1w_qk6NbvX3BsQc0jbL8AG_3hgVm9inxWno7Ti8gnE5xf5R5VOjyocx6XdFHXJ90/s320/Bella+006.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427117857171183586" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixcKjoQ7GLnCU2hwH_y_81HIejLLkaHnP1Oocqbumi0lLU04jhn5pOKKiVG5dZfeiQSNw_T8_v2yGDkDkZQYniT0sAw6BBK0ruxKmcQCqXUnLq766aFqdoVCO1nZZUASexKphH/s320/Bella+009.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427117876550772866" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPR4yHlqC80O_6YYiElwcpcbFGJ5KiPEQG0s2YrtMNvZS1xOH50ZAekvvIsUiTf5l2RBiyZ7IKFosVRQMur7ZHKbE1sjjI2fmHs0GvZXZ6egPftG4HQQ4gNIzlczpgVAoVc3_t/s320/Bella+008.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427117872229679986" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifd9-qfeMWOX6O6qZfQiW-ge7fiPWKMGNGkBdXx4waM9ja1mBFRyXmiC_zYWmoRFYm3eH9t0INqCkjPpRbhqYHqfrzCjIZnBVzpso8Pv3ZnzNMsESWk0FI5SlMUfdtix08V4Z9/s320/Bella+007.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427117862235372306" /></div><div>I've got to remember to close the loopholes! I said, "Brush your teeth." I forgot to add, "Don't empty out my drawer and wear my headbands as belts. Please do not add accessories to these belts. Please do not act surprised when I am less than pleased that you took EVERYTHING out of my drawer."</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-54185743668782372472009-11-30T16:21:00.004-06:002009-11-30T16:26:27.763-06:00Gingerbread HouseI've always had a dream of making a gingerbread house (pretty lofty dreams, I know) and I've never done it. Today when I was waiting for my prescription to get filled, I saw a "Candy Cane Cottage" gingerbreadish house kit for $1. Perfect!<div><br /></div><div>So while Rudy napped, Baba and I created....</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe2Vc5iFAk0BE769YonFVEFVRHmIcLQubOVp2pDA9KoMF95YBe1WkFyZZdCXRefjRW8TB-azqcGyy-KYfElTYXNrqhnXtBpfajR2uI7pfMxEUF3PllXQsRZrdcQ_-spB2G2igg/s320/gingerbread+house+004.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410025964636836402" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We created a large mess and ate a lot of frosting. Mmmm, frosting. Before I could stop him, Baba dived in. </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBGRAqcZjTDTGKjvoVT5JJj9N56RL_eqXETuYHx3Z3jk8HwWdtqYSD79ScSz53WHZPNn1TgFTdTOyWXxEorLKKhdo8fsG5ey_uTRlmx23DGJokqu0vndmkTr-jCvDI8nFU01V/s320/gingerbread+house+006.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410025967001130050" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsM8yLVO2hNjLUkevrdCiJjopvcrKd53Zjq44TFdfftuE6AQq5s5dKQaSpr3vhQyvtgxfaSZKPdWjmCiSieOCTJyhlIe6tcfWFs-nRKdGHz-E_L1moE0_C8Byckv3anE85nGQd/s320/gingerbread+house+008.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410025975954745026" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Oddly enough, my house is sticky.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTiant59AtqTcw2d-rbIX8cx1EtyhlPhuo8SGg3GsYRUhD3-6oRQH9Vgd-IFFapT01PYEGcdKZkhmQjlDSLatKXGwx0MtVCq_kHfzyyI4tymMMfiVNpwHIqtL9_LFOp6M1AJ0l/s320/gingerbread+house+011.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410025984818163858" /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-33676772221238361582009-11-26T08:33:00.003-06:002009-11-26T08:39:34.930-06:00Gobble! Gobble! Gobble!<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBmDo5Gj6ReMHO41vL5wCi_j0c2-uji1E1xizmq0WKMdJd0Ck700Rp8_lfvWJUaKvurUi-Mo5BtTDamlLr2NmVxj3keW22C6UWweR4X9k1v2h1MUj7LBw7yweQw_nV3OUq7wY/s320/Thanksgiving+001.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408420983734017346" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqzTMBEgFjDWBhxgj0a6ajmRnO3dMbC_vhAqbadnrYqp0FmHmuzXb34LT7LAdrBX3LW5qRcJnfA7AELdQ1BXODJvVi72xUM1cTqT7NhT-Met5eEAVJPuZElFEUDxLreEfm9ONO/s320/Thanksgiving+002.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408420990896014562" /><div>Happy Thanksgiving from my little turkeys. When Baba a.k.a Harry Potter saw Rudy a.k.a. Ginny Weasley he said, "She looks so beautiful, I feel like dancing with her." So they danced.<br /><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGcH5azfwiKvs8YvTjV1LEIZ6SkLCDFGi0qNCYTPDn-a76rykHckCXwPK7ZBvz3YSyLuocGBUQZYN13UyDLrD_DURK-2n5NWFoGH_ZRYCgnLZtZVQIGlzerEFj9tBKOTNlLhq/s320/Thanksgiving+005.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408421003526143266" /><br /><br />Because NOTHING says, "Happy Thanksgiving!" like a dance party in the kitchen (when we are running late and now are running even later because they were so darn cute I had to take pictures and then blog about the morning's festivities).<br /><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHhpqA3KJhBdUq8y6JqPrdObGamadI-yMDv-zfE7SpKd0qlTMdLasNWkLZjTOxFXIdu7QWy6nKnn2n_5_4TcvpFgV_P9dvi21OHh8u5Q1U0My6-ZY0eVL0i2d_ZNwvz0S9TUt/s320/Thanksgiving+004.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408420995442540578" /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-27909783836306880402009-10-16T15:16:00.004-05:002009-10-16T15:56:26.170-05:00Alas, poor blogrick, I knew him well....I'm blaming my lack of blogging on the packing. Most definitely the packing's fault. And since we move in a week (Ahhhh!) I really should be packing instead of blogging, but I'm on break (union job, you know).<div><br /></div><div>The children have been most, um, "helpful." Baba is old enough to really, really want to help but not old enough to actually be any help. He did, however, very proudly pack two boxes all by himself. I have no idea what is in the boxes (all he let me do was tape them up. Fingers crossed.), but I know Rudy didn't end up in a box, so how bad can it be? The boxes Baba packed we had to label "Baba packed all by himself" so at least I'll be prepared for the surprise. I guess.</div><div><br /></div><div>I must admit that while packing, I am not as vigilant in the watching of the offspring as I usually am. The children are most pleased by this development.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh010S_6DzKoUKf21xxXemvAF65uLVvhxmT3yn9zLurhxHJ7EWZ-OVa7p92hB5v4ffgG3eub100KKTi1teB7kErUjZW0M7VP9X1UN0LY2JQpp-2LFsPElx_suC3ghvKAuOr2lxJ/s1600-h/Cute+kids+causing+trouble+007.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh010S_6DzKoUKf21xxXemvAF65uLVvhxmT3yn9zLurhxHJ7EWZ-OVa7p92hB5v4ffgG3eub100KKTi1teB7kErUjZW0M7VP9X1UN0LY2JQpp-2LFsPElx_suC3ghvKAuOr2lxJ/s320/Cute+kids+causing+trouble+007.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393302997777456706" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXcJW3uhbW5wUHMdEPpalyZq-4SMOVI33xf17R8A-x2QGcWti7rv0-6cV7OZncIZVB8RnM7MBb9Eug6XpJFhjjjb9bsMhM3cbakwISOPcT37RpgoToZdP9Myi1OrtsxE7tRId/s1600-h/Cute+kids+causing+trouble+012.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXXcJW3uhbW5wUHMdEPpalyZq-4SMOVI33xf17R8A-x2QGcWti7rv0-6cV7OZncIZVB8RnM7MBb9Eug6XpJFhjjjb9bsMhM3cbakwISOPcT37RpgoToZdP9Myi1OrtsxE7tRId/s320/Cute+kids+causing+trouble+012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393303009262822818" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><div>A couple weeks ago, my sister-in-law posted something along the lines of watching a TV show on hoarding and if you couldn't walk across her apartment to stage an intervention because the hoarders logic made since. I am somewhat of a hoarder - mostly due to my grocery shopping rules. I may be moving 29 boxes of cereal, but if the cereal is under a dollar a box, I have to buy it. That's the rule.</div><div><br /></div><div>After taping a box and labeling, I realized that the entire box was filled with cereal, salad dressing, ketchup, and BBQ sauce. Maybe I am a hoarder. Hopefully my sister-in-law is not around when we open that box, she may stage an intervention for me. But, in my defense, all of the salad dressing, ketchup, and BBQ was free and we will eat it.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfagFQPVCh_I8blk5WrTExq4jPcC-mP35NDkCSbZWmzbHcTqqH10TLaLPgblwAZdK_JucRcvTZ8k6J8mIxrubfifvGVai8G0RBfmOsiHqQ-6Sye-aCRnqcZJCs02CBrCSc5Fe/s1600-h/Cute+kids+causing+trouble+017.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfagFQPVCh_I8blk5WrTExq4jPcC-mP35NDkCSbZWmzbHcTqqH10TLaLPgblwAZdK_JucRcvTZ8k6J8mIxrubfifvGVai8G0RBfmOsiHqQ-6Sye-aCRnqcZJCs02CBrCSc5Fe/s320/Cute+kids+causing+trouble+017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393303022468176498" /></a><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIq3I4I7PgbtjdJoIYWJvLX-kTukIa0c1jjzj543WOZ-Ko4XcRvJf1OdmiuvDKLq4C0czYZ704IFgKq6nE3kFGzQmqGuD5cUN1L076-yvgxJG656p3ZDJAlC27UTSqcaA2xXtG/s320/Cute+kids+causing+trouble+018.JPG" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393303031663489282" /><div>Eventually.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-84907668211098191172009-09-09T10:34:00.002-05:002009-09-09T10:39:39.682-05:00Dollhouses<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Baba</span> has been begging for a dollhouse for about a year now. I said I wanted to build one for him and his sister (which I still do), but don't have the time or the space to do so.<br /><br />When I was out running last weekend, I ran by a garage sale that had one of those plastic little <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">tike's</span> dollhouses for $10. Score! I asked how long they were going to be open for and she said they were closing. I said I could run home and be back in 10 minutes. She said I could take it with me now. I declined (Um, how am I supposed to run (or walk for that matter) home carrying a super bulky and somewhat heavy dollhouse with accessories?).<br /><br />I ran home as fast as I could, panted to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Baba</span> that there was a garage sale and we needed to hurry. He ran outside sans shoes in his excitement. After locating shoes and some water for me, we were off. We get out of the car at the garage sale and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Baba</span> says, pointing to the dollhouse, "Let's buy that!"<br /><br />The little girl who had been the previous owner of the dollhouse looked at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Baba</span> and said, "Why are you buying a dollhouse" in her snottiest voice.<br /><br />I told her we like dolls at our house, failing to see the problem with a four year old boy playing with a dollhouse. I wish she could have seen <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Baba</span> playing this morning. He ran downstairs, excited and out of breath, yelling, "Stormtroopers have stormed the dollhouse!"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-18365615442995987102009-08-14T17:50:00.002-05:002009-08-14T17:51:48.819-05:00Its just a number....I told my hubby he was getting old because he's almost 30.<br /><br />He said, "In guys years that only 20. In lady years you are 80."<br /><br />It's all relative.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30621746.post-25313796931805697772009-08-07T15:34:00.003-05:002009-08-07T15:49:44.035-05:00The Almost Great Minnesota Get TogetherI had promised the children I would take them to the county fair yesterday. Rudy's vocabulary is pretty limited so her response involved lots of "bananas!" and "burps!", but Baba was pretty pumped. Then I broke my baby toe Wednesday night (if it swells any larger, its going to beat my big toe in the biggest toe on my foot contest).<br /><br />I was on pins and needles all thursday morning, hoping that Baba had forgotten about the fair. I had asked him a couple times what he wanted to do today. If he wasn't going to bring it up, I certainly wasn't going to volunteer that it was supposed to be fair day. I was perfectly content to eat tylenol while sitting on the couch with my foot elevated (and my children are so patient and understanding when Mom is injured). I asked him a couple times what he wanted to do today. I got the usual: watch Star Wars, play Star Wars on the Wii, have lightsaber battles, eat, etc. I thought I was home free. Then, right after lunch, he remember. He promised to be good until Christmas, so I buddy-wrapped, slide my poor foot into my biggest tennis shoes and off we hubbled (or, I hobbled, Rudy ran, and Baba bounced with glee).<br /><br />The kids loved the animal barns. They didn't care that it stink or was 9,001 degrees. They would have happily oohed and aahed at cows and horses and pigs and goats all day. We watched barrel races, cow judging (which, is the only time that my children have sat still for more than 2 minutes consecutively), sheep judging, and a karate demenstration, during which, Baba turns to me and says, "Mom, can I take gymnastics and dance and karate. Dance and gymnastics because I want to and karate in case someone makes fun of me for taking gymnastics and dance."<br /><br />Baba also got to make a super cool bookmark at the library booth. He got to use different color stamps to make finger prints on a piece of card stock. He was making TIE fighters (of course). The librarian says in her voice reserved for dealing with dumb children, "Oh! That looks like a butterfly. Its so pretty." Baba says in his most condisending voice, "Its a TIE fighter. Pew! Pew! Pew! TIE fighter." I don't think he took my "you need to be respectful to adults even if they aren't respectful to you" lecture too seriously since I was giggling through it.<br /><br />After a root beer, some salt water taffy, a hot dog, some french fries, and a juice box, it was time to go. We made it home relativly in one piece and neither of my children sampled any of the prize winning produce (not for lack of trying and me screaming "Babaua Harold put that zucchini down. NOW!"). They had a great time and I had a great drink when we got home. It was a succesful day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1