<?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-5645498263993872766</id><updated>2012-02-19T14:17:16.858-06:00</updated><category term='Alzheimer&apos;s'/><category term='soap'/><title type='text'>Oh look,sparklies!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>77</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-4054937224885188263</id><published>2008-05-25T11:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T11:55:39.592-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you for all that you do</title><content type='html'>This is to thank all of the military men &amp;amp; women &amp;amp; their families for all that they have done for our country.  If not for these men &amp;amp; women AND their families this country would not be what it is today.  Personally I can not imagine what the families of these dedicated men &amp;amp; women go through on a daily basis.  Although one of my children has always wanted to go into the military so I know I will be experiencing first hand what they go through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HxNsDsHAAb8/SDmZqchYr8I/AAAAAAAAACc/syuC6760_ZM/s1600-h/flag-c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HxNsDsHAAb8/SDmZqchYr8I/AAAAAAAAACc/syuC6760_ZM/s320/flag-c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204359798893096898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got freedom?  Thank a soldier&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-4054937224885188263?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/4054937224885188263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=4054937224885188263' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/4054937224885188263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/4054937224885188263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/05/thank-you-for-all-that-you-do.html' title='Thank you for all that you do'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_HxNsDsHAAb8/SDmZqchYr8I/AAAAAAAAACc/syuC6760_ZM/s72-c/flag-c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-369875478611884934</id><published>2008-04-28T11:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T13:24:11.084-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How long is forever?</title><content type='html'>I had a very busy weekend.  All week long I have been going through the boys room throwing stuff away &amp;amp; cleaning.  Because Spike had thrown up &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everywhere&lt;/span&gt; last Friday I really wanted to empty out the whole room &amp;amp; wash the walls &amp;amp; shampoo the carpet.  It really needed it.  It was actually kind of embarrassing how dirty it was in there.  When we moved the dressers &amp;amp; the desk there was spider webs of dust all over the walls.  Yuck.  What kind of Mom am I?  Letting my kids sleep in a room that dirty?  The Queen of Clean( whoever she is) should be rolling over in her grave.&lt;br /&gt;I was up early on Saturday so I could get everything out &amp;amp; wash walls.  I loaded up Smitty's dresser &amp;amp; desk so Queenie could take them to the dumpster.  They were falling apart anyway.  Now that Smitty was gone we didn't need them.  Then Spike &amp;amp; I got the beds out.  What a lot of work!  I was taking a break upstairs when who walks into the house but Smitty!  He's home.  To stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a huge hug(the best one yet I have to say) I asked him what he was doing here &amp;amp; he said it was different down there &amp;amp; he didn't like it.  I guess in 7 days you can tell if you like living somewhere or not.  Who knew.  Most people go on vacation longer then that.  He had perfect timing.  I was boxing up his stuff.  After all he went to Oklahoma to live forever.  Spike didn't need all his stuff cluttering up his room.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;AND&lt;/span&gt; I had just thrown out his dresser &amp;amp; desk just a few hours ago.  I think he was shocked!  I would of been. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am glad that he is back home.  Now maybe he will follow my plan of getting an apartment a few blocks away.  That I can deal with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on the plus side I now know how long forever is.  It's 7 days.  So if your kid says he's gonna run away forever don't panic, it will only be for 7 days.  In that time you can clean his room &amp;amp; get rid of all the stuff you could never figure out why he was keeping.  It could turn out to be a good thing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-369875478611884934?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/369875478611884934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=369875478611884934' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/369875478611884934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/369875478611884934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/04/how-long-is-forever.html' title='How long is forever?'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-2216524414490009883</id><published>2008-04-23T12:11:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T08:28:23.374-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Car Lingerie</title><content type='html'>My new Stealth Mobile came with Lingerie.  I've never owned a vehicle that wore Lingerie before.  The tank just wouldn't look right in a bra.  It would probably look like 10 lbs of potatoes stuffed in a 5 lb sack.  Not a good look.  But the Stealth Mobile somehow manages to pull it off. This poses a whole bunch of questions for me.&lt;br /&gt;*Where do you buy lingerie for cars?&lt;br /&gt;*Is there a special Fredericks of Hollywood for Cars?&lt;br /&gt;*Can I get a catalog?&lt;br /&gt;*Do I have to change the style for the weather?&lt;br /&gt;*How do I tell what size it is?&lt;br /&gt;*Can it wear White after Labor Day?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all to confusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now because the car is sporting a bra I have no idea how to take it through the car wash.  Do I have to remove the bra first &amp;amp; then go through the car wash or do all cars shower while wearing their lingerie?  I have no idea.  None of my friends knew either.  Apparently their cars don't wear lingerie.  Pookie &amp;amp; I had a discussion about it last night &amp;amp; decided that we should take it off before giving the car a shower.  Great plan how do you get it off?  I opened the hood &amp;amp; looked at the confusing mess of straps &amp;amp; was just gonna forget the whole thing when Pookie noticed 2 hooks that we could just unhook &amp;amp; take the whole thing off.  Easy Peasy.&lt;br /&gt;This morning I decided that while The Princess &amp;amp; I were out we would take the Stealth Mobile through the car wash.  I removed the bra in the driveway &amp;amp; she went braless all over town while I did my errands.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I felt so naughty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I have to wash the bra before it goes back on.  Again I have more questions.&lt;br /&gt;*How do I wash it?&lt;br /&gt;*In the sink with dish soap?&lt;br /&gt;*In the machine on the delicate cycle?&lt;br /&gt;*Do I have to buy Woolite?&lt;br /&gt;*Can it go into the dryer or will it shrink?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is way too much thinkin' involved in this.  I don't think this much when I take a shower &amp;amp; wash my clothes.  I get up, shower &amp;amp; put on something clean.  If nothing is clean I put on something that still looks pretty good &amp;amp; doesn't have a real bad smell to it.  Oh &amp;amp; I add extra deodorant too.  Can't hurt right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy the weather everyone.  It's finally starting to get nice here.  Might have to go braless myself.  Nope, forget that.  My boobs are no longer "perky".  Without a bra to keep them in check they turn into an Ostrich.  They try to bury themselves in the ground.  That's not a good look for me.  Guess I'll have to squash my dream of being a Pole Dancer in Vegas.  Long floppy boobs are not the "in" thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-2216524414490009883?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/2216524414490009883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=2216524414490009883' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2216524414490009883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2216524414490009883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/04/car-lingerie.html' title='Car Lingerie'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-4073388497819375005</id><published>2008-04-22T12:34:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T07:43:59.284-05:00</updated><title type='text'>1 down 3 to go</title><content type='html'>Smitty finally moved out.  I had big plans for him.  He was going to move out &amp;amp; share an apartment with a friend.  This apartment was only gonna be a few blocks from the house so his father &amp;amp; I could pop in often without notice &amp;amp; surprise him.  Then in a few years he was gonna get married &amp;amp; buy the house around the corner.  Sounds perfect no?  Well I neglected to inform him of my plans.   He told us he was moving to Oklahoma.  WHAT??  That was not in my plans at all.  Not for any of my kids.  They are all staying close.  After all don't they love me?  Why would they move to Oklahoma?  I'm not there.&lt;br /&gt;This all happened pretty fast.  He wasn't getting the hours he needed at his job.  A friend from Oklahoma(I'll give him an Indian name...Taker of Son) called to chat &amp;amp; Smitty was telling him how the job was going.  Taker of Son told Smitty that his neighbor was the guy who hired people &amp;amp; he would have him call.  Well he did &amp;amp; told him to come down &amp;amp; he would have a job.  Being 19 Smitty thought what the hell, I'll go.  Can't really blame him.  Every 18/19 yr old wants to move out. But Oklahoma?  He should of talked to me first.  Instead he made a executive decision all by himself &amp;amp; decided he would go.  Huh?&lt;br /&gt;When he told us I was floored.  Again because this was not my plan at all.  I asked when this  big event was gonna take place. He told us on Tuesday &amp;amp; he said he was leaving on Saturday.  What?  No way.  You are not leaving that soon.  Of course I didn't say that out loud.&lt;br /&gt;He quit his job on Thursday &amp;amp; said goodbye in person to both sets of Grands.  It was all he had time for.  He packed his truck with all of his important things.  Clothes, computer &amp;amp; Xbox.  Since he will be staying with Taker of Son for a while he didn't need any furniture.&lt;br /&gt;I held it together very well I thought while he packed &amp;amp; did last minute stuff.  I slept awful Friday night &amp;amp; was up at 4:45am(yep AM) to say goodbye.  He finished loading the truck &amp;amp; came up for that last goodbye hug &amp;amp; I lost it.  As I am watching him drive away I am standing on the porch sobbing.  That's not really a good look for me either.  I went back to bed cried for about an hour &amp;amp; finally slept a little.  No one told me it was gonna hurt this much.  My first born was just ripped from my loins.  It hurt when he was born too, but not like this.  He is bigger now so it hurts more.  I had a few more meltdowns on Saturday. But didn't have time for too  many because I was kept busy because of Spike. He knew that I would be sad so as a parting gift to Smitty he got the flu.  Spike sleeps on the top bunk &amp;amp; woke up &amp;amp; had an uh-oh moment.(&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you have an uh-oh moment on the top bunk it's already to late)  &lt;/span&gt;He puked all over his bed &amp;amp; Smitty's head.  Personally I think it was a payback for taking the Xbox.  I had so much laundry to do I really didn't have lots of time to be sad.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm gonna be ok.   It will take awhile to adjust to only having 3 kids at home.  But being "Super Mom"  I'll adjust quickly I'm sure.  *sob,sob,sob,gut wrenching sob* I'll be fine really.  *sniff,sniff, blow, sob, sob*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-4073388497819375005?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/4073388497819375005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=4073388497819375005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/4073388497819375005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/4073388497819375005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/04/1-down-3-to-go.html' title='1 down 3 to go'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-5902112954722823735</id><published>2008-04-21T13:28:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T08:38:43.398-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's official, I'm a grown-up</title><content type='html'>We got our income tax back.  When we got them back my first thought was "Great,I can fill all the vehicles up to the top with gas".  That's what we did.  What ever happened to "oh we got our taxes back, what cool thing are we gonna buy?"  I knew it was "official grown up thinking" that made me do that.   In the past we have put on a deck &amp;amp; bought a new tv.  All fun stuff.  My "fun stuff" thinking has been replaced with paying bills before going out, paying bills before eating out &amp;amp; just paying bills.  I did not sign up for that!  I signed up for a loving husband, adoring kids &amp;amp; a lovely squeaky clean house.    I got the loving husband, I got the kids but they are not the adoring ones that worship the ground I walk on that I asked for.  As for the squeaky clean house well that's not happening either.  I need a maid for that cause obviously I'm not cut out to clean house.  There just isn't time to clean the house in between  all my laying on the couch in my robe &amp;amp; eating bon bons.  By the time I'm finished eating all my bon bons I'm to tired to clean the house.   Pookie isn't very understanding about that at all.  What does he know.  I need my "me time" ya know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be a grown-up any more.  There is too much to worry about.  All the paying bills, who has to be where at what time &amp;amp; who's gonna get them there, the cooking, the cleaning(or not cleaning), the laundry.  If my Mom had told me what being married &amp;amp; being a parent all involved I would of never done it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh who am I kidding, I wouldn't of believed her &amp;amp; done it anyway.  And some days being a grown-up is not all bad.  But some days it really sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-5902112954722823735?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/5902112954722823735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=5902112954722823735' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5902112954722823735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5902112954722823735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-official-im-grown-up.html' title='It&apos;s official, I&apos;m a grown-up'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-1380592671460282734</id><published>2008-04-21T10:21:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T10:40:51.609-05:00</updated><title type='text'>National White Leg Day</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was National White Leg day.  For those of you who don't recognize the Holiday it's when you put on shorts for the first time after the long,long,long, long(we really had a long one this year)long winter.  You climb into those shorts for the first time.  Make sure your shirt is all tucked in, take a quick look in the mirror to make sure you are all put together, then you see it.  Those glow in the dark, pale pasty white legs.  Good Lord!  You can't go outside looking like that!  Then you think I'll just use some of that spray on tan until my legs actually get some color.  Then you realize you don't have any &amp;amp; you would have to leave the house to get some.  That's not happening.  You are &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; going outside looking like this. Someone might see you..  While you are standing in front of the mirror looking at your pale pasty white legs &amp;amp; feeling miserable your kid yells "Mom come play outside with me!"  You think...it IS a really nice day outside, maybe if I just stay in the back yard no one will see me.  Then you head out the front door to play in the front yard with your kid, cause after all nothing in more important then playing with your kid.  Even if your legs are pale pasty white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They will get some color eventually.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-1380592671460282734?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/1380592671460282734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=1380592671460282734' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1380592671460282734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1380592671460282734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/04/national-white-leg-day.html' title='National White Leg Day'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-5235825672009327477</id><published>2008-04-04T12:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T12:41:46.943-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My new car</title><content type='html'>I got a new car.  Well not brand new but a 1999.  So far besides my trailer it's the newest thing we own. And I get it!  That's how it works.  Husband &amp;amp; wife buy a new car the wife automatically gets it &amp;amp; the husband gets the old one. We had been talking about getting me a car(it's the whole cheaper on gas thing) but I wasn't sure what I wanted.  I haven't driven a car in 15 years.  We sort of fell into this one.  It was a good deal so we bought it.  Originally we thought we would go look at it for Queenie, but as soon as I saw it I decided it was way to nice for her.  I wanted it.&lt;br /&gt;It has a keyless entry thing but it didn't work.  Well since I've never had one of those before I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;had &lt;/span&gt;to get it fixed.  Turns out I needed a new one.  I went to the car dealer, found out they had them in stock but if I came back the next day I could get it programed for free.  Sold.  Then I tell Pookie who decided that I could get one much cheaper off Ebay.  I let him look knowing all along I was going back to the car dealer to get it.  Why start an argument.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what I'm gonna tell the bill collectors when they call for money:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bill collector&lt;/span&gt;:Hello ma'am this is the bill collectors.  We need money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:I don't have any.  I just bought a car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:Oh, was your old one in an accident?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:No.  I just wanted one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:Oh you must have some money you could give  us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:Well I do have some left but I need it to buy a new key thingie for the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:Did your car come without a key?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:Of course not.  Why would I be stupid enough to buy a car without a key.  This is for the keyless entry thingie so I can just push a button to lock it, open the  trunk or beep the horn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:Does the key work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:Of course it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:Then why do you need a button thingie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:Because I want one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:But the key works right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:Yes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:I think you should send your money to us &amp;amp; pay off some bills.  That would be better then a key thingie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:No it wouldn't.  Do you have any idea how many people drive tiny black cars?  I'll never find it in the parking lot.  Besides this one is special.  It's stealth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:Did you have to pay extra for that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:Nope, just came with the car, cool huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:Does your husband know about the key thingie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:Yes, but he thinks I should wait &amp;amp; get a cheaper one.  But I don't wanna wait.  I want to pay double &amp;amp; get it right now.  Cause I'm worth it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BC&lt;/span&gt;:I can't argue with a women.  Have a good day ma'am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-5235825672009327477?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/5235825672009327477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=5235825672009327477' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5235825672009327477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5235825672009327477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-new-car.html' title='My new car'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-3193425238437918494</id><published>2008-03-13T12:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T13:30:06.037-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping</title><content type='html'>I have heard from several friends &amp;amp; neighbors that shopping can be dangerous to the checkbook.  Either that or things in my town are just getting really expensive.  Below is a price list of how much some things can cost in my neck of the woods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WalMart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Toothpaste- $50.00&lt;br /&gt;Paper Cups-$28.00&lt;br /&gt;Milk-$40.00&lt;br /&gt;Dogfood,toothpaste &amp;amp; soap-$122.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;K-Mart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buns-$40.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can never run into a store for just 1 thing.    Especially in our new super huge we carry everything you could ever need or want  WalMart.  I always have to look at the scrapbook stuff, hit the clearance isle( you just never know what you might need in there) scope out the day old bakery rack, run through the kids clothes to see if they have anything on a clearance rack that will fit any of my kids, &amp;amp; then there is all the grocery isles.  I'm toast once I hit those.  It wasn't so bad until WalMart came to town.  I really like having it here but wow are things pricey!  My friends &amp;amp; I have a running joke about how much we spent when running in for 1 thing.  You just can't do it.  It's kinda like eating just 1 Lays potato chip.  You can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna tell Pookie that he has to take on a second job to support my WalMart habit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how well that will go over?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3193425238437918494?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3193425238437918494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3193425238437918494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3193425238437918494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3193425238437918494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/03/shopping.html' title='Shopping'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-1570126314705627273</id><published>2008-02-28T07:35:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T08:03:55.346-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Challenge your brain</title><content type='html'>When I was in school(many many moons ago) the teachers always said to challenge your brain.  Usually that just meant more homework.   And from a kids point of view more homework is never good. But they were right.  It is very important for your health that you challenge your brain everyday.  It just may prevent you from getting Alzheimer's Disease.  My Mother-in-law(who I love to pieces) has Alzheimer's &amp;amp; I have been going to  Alzheimer's Support Group meetings with 2 of my sister-in-laws &amp;amp; my niece.  I've learned a lot from these meetings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  We are not alone in our struggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  There is help out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  We are not as bad off as we thought.  It is much worse for others who are farther along in their struggle with this disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  There is a wonderful message board on the Alzheimer's Association web site.  I get a lot of answers by reading &amp;amp; posting there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Keeping healthy by challenging your brain, eating right &amp;amp; getting exercise is good for us &amp;amp; it might prevent or delay Alzheimer's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have Alzheimer's on my Dad's side.  Pookie has it on his Mom's.  I would really like to prevent it if I can.  Eating healthy &amp;amp; getting exercise certainly won't hurt any of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One easy way to challenge your brain is try writing your name with your opposite hand.  Or brush your teeth with your opposite hand.  You are learning something new &amp;amp; that is challenging your brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If something as easy as trying to write my name with my other hand could possibly help in preventing Alzheimer's Disease why wouldn't I do it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-1570126314705627273?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/1570126314705627273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=1570126314705627273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1570126314705627273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1570126314705627273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/02/challenge-your-brain.html' title='Challenge your brain'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-8404591409338729114</id><published>2008-02-26T11:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T11:27:20.626-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Princess Baker</title><content type='html'>This morning while I am in the shower the Princess is in the bathroom playing in the sink.  I know this because I have to keep peeking to see what she is doing.  When I ask her what she is doing she says nothing.  Nothing in Princess talk means I am doing something naughty.  She was playing  with the soap &amp;amp; pretending to put her contacts in with the spray bottle &amp;amp; an old contact lens case.  That just gets everything wet.  She has bad aim with that spray bottle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I do finish my shower &amp;amp; open the curtain I find the bath mat covered with stuff so I can't step on it.  All I can see are 2 white circles &amp;amp; lots of blurry blobs.  I hadn't put my contacts in yet &amp;amp; I am blind as a bat without them so all I saw were blurry blobs.  I ask her what  those white circles are &amp;amp; she tells me they are plates for the cake she is making.  I ask her to move stuff so I can get out &amp;amp; I get my glasses on.  I notice 2 paper plates.  One has the wash cloth I used in the shower on it.  That is the cake.  She has also gotten 2 of my forks from the kitchen.  (well what do you eat cake with?)  Yum, nothing I like better then cake made with a wash cloth I just used to wash my "special parts" with.  I tell her that she can't use the wash cloth(besides being gross) because it is dripping through the plate.  So she starts to unroll the toilet paper.  Again I ask her what she thinks she is doing.  This is my cake.  Oh I get it.  Now instead of using my "oh so sanitary" wash cloth we are going to use lots of wadded up toilet paper.  After all it's a big cake.  Then I have to eat it.  All this is going on while I am trying to hurry up &amp;amp; get dressed.  She has school today &amp;amp; we are running  late.  But I do the only thing a Mom can do.  I stop &amp;amp; eat my toilet paper cake.  Yum.  Cake anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8404591409338729114?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8404591409338729114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8404591409338729114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8404591409338729114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8404591409338729114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/02/princess-baker.html' title='The Princess Baker'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-1174079118069170424</id><published>2008-02-22T09:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T10:18:53.607-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday I had a mammogram.  Big fun let me tell you.  I have been officially squashed flat.  Today I am filling out a Wellness form for a cancer policy that we have.  One of the questions they asked was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Give the actual cost of the Mammogram.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I have no idea what the actual cost of anything Dr. related is.  We have insurance.  I haven't paid an actual cost(thank God) for anything medical related ever.  I had to jump through many hoops to get an estimated actual cost.  First I called the Dr's office where I had the test.  They don't do their own billing.  They have a service.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Of course they do.&lt;/span&gt;  So they gave me another number to call.  When I call that number I am on hold for 15 minutes.   I finally get a really nice women on the phone &amp;amp; she looks up my info.  It's not in the system yet.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Of course it's not.  &lt;/span&gt;It could take up to 2 weeks to get into the system. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; This is only because I want to send in the form today.  &lt;/span&gt;I ask if she can tell me what a mammogram costs &amp;amp; I give her credit.  She tried.  It wouldn't give her the info.  So she put me on hold &amp;amp; tried to find out for me.  A few minutes later she comes back &amp;amp; says she can give me an estimate.  Ok that will have to work.  Do you know that a Mammogram can cost $400.00 if you have to pay for it out of pocket?  No wonder people without insurance don't get them as often(or at all)as they should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to call the insurance company because we certainly don't want to send in the form without all the correct info on it.  That could delay payment forever.  I had to make my way through several hundred phone prompts first until I got to the place I thought I needed to be.  I had to wait on hold for about 20 minutes before I got a person.  It only took a minute for her to tell me that an estimated cost is fine to put on the form.  But I know if I hadn't called &amp;amp; asked they would of sent the form back.  That's how life works for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insurance, can't fill out the forms correctly, can't live without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-1174079118069170424?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/1174079118069170424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=1174079118069170424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1174079118069170424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1174079118069170424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/02/yesterday-i-had-mammogram.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-1896772947534541387</id><published>2008-02-20T12:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T12:39:38.168-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I quit?</title><content type='html'>I would like to quit Winter please.  Is there a form that I can fill out or do I have to send in a letter?  All I know is that I am getting so tired of Winter.  I think the problem is that it started so early.  We got hit early &amp;amp; way to often for my taste.  I'm done now.  I would like it to be May.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been doing a lot of browsing on Ebay this week.  That can be dangerous for me.  I have bought several scrapbook related things that I can't live without.  Although I don't think there is a scrapbook thing out there that I don't need.  I think it's a disease.  And my best friend is getting it too.  It's catchy.  I have been spending &lt;del&gt;a little, a lot&lt;/del&gt; a whole crap load of quality time on there lately.  Every time I find something good I have to tell her about it &amp;amp; then she wants it too.  I see no cure for this disease either.  It only gets worse. Although I have to say that I have gotten a lot of good deals from there.  It works out pretty good for me too.  I buy them during the day.  They arrive during the day.  I open the box put the new stuff away &amp;amp; get rid of the box.  Pookie has no idea.  See it works out for both of us.  I get stuff I &lt;del&gt;can't live without&lt;/del&gt; need &amp;amp; he has no idea.  That's the best way to shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today at the library the Princess made a gold crown with LOTS of jewels on it.  She had a blast making it.  Every time I asked her if she was finished she said no.  It needed more jewels.  For her it's all about the bling.  I know the crown is very important to her because we have been home for about a half hour &amp;amp; I have no idea where it is.  It's very special.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-1896772947534541387?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/1896772947534541387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=1896772947534541387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1896772947534541387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1896772947534541387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/02/can-i-quit.html' title='Can I quit?'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-6835776922931535415</id><published>2008-02-18T14:36:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T19:43:34.600-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just for the record the nasty smell coming from my sink &amp;amp; stinking up the whole kitchen was a dish rag.  It was hidden under a plate in the bottom of the sink.  Who would of thought a little dish rag could reak that bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;60 things you didn't know about me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  What's in the backseat of your car right now?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; A toddler car seat, a bunch of toys &amp;amp; a whole bunch  of stuff I don't even want to know about is under the seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2. When was the last time you threw up?   &lt;/span&gt;Last week.  I had the flu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3.What is your favorite curse word? &lt;/span&gt; Shit.  I'd &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;have to say shit.  Although with a 3 year old in the house who doesn't miss a word you say I do try not to say it within  her hearing range.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4.  Name 3 people who made you smile today.&lt;/span&gt;    Queenie, the Princess &amp;amp; Spike&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5.   What were you doing at 8:00 am this morning?&lt;/span&gt;  Dozing on the couch while the Princess watched Curious George.  The bigger kids had a day off from school so I didn't have to run anyone anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6.  What were you doing 30 minutes ago?&lt;/span&gt;  Folding laundry &amp;amp; starting to fry bacon for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7.  What will you be doing 3 hours from now? &lt;/span&gt; Hopefully sitting on the couch watching tv.  By then the Princess &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;should&lt;/span&gt; be in bed sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;8.  Have you ever been to a strip club?&lt;/span&gt;  Nope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;9.  What is the last thing you said out loud? &lt;/span&gt; No you can't have cookies for dinner.  I was talking to the  Princess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;10.  What is the best flavor of ice cream? &lt;/span&gt; Cookie dough, hands down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;11.  What is the last thing you had to drink? &lt;/span&gt; Pepsi, no surprise there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12.  What are you wearing right now?&lt;/span&gt;  A Grey hoodie &amp;amp; my favorite pair of holey jeans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;13.  What was the last thing you ate? &lt;/span&gt; M &amp;amp; M's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;14.  Have you bought any new clothing items this week?&lt;/span&gt;  Nope.  Not for me.  But I bought Smitty a new pair of jeans.  The Mom never gets anything new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;15.  When was the last time you ran?&lt;/span&gt;  Yesterday.  The Princess fell in the living room &amp;amp; was bawling like she lost a leg.  She really just stubbed her toe, which is fine by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;16.  What is the last sporting event you watched?&lt;/span&gt;  I got stuck watching The Daytona 500.  It was not my choice.  I only watch sports if my kids are playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;17.  What time did you go to bed last night?&lt;/span&gt;  About 2:00 am.  I wasn't tired so I stayed up &amp;amp; watched a bunch of Charmed episodes that I had recorded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;18.  Who is the last person you e-mailed? &lt;/span&gt; My bff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;19.  Ever go camping? &lt;/span&gt; Yep!  I love to go camping!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;20.  Do you have a tan? &lt;/span&gt; Nope.  I'm sporting the scary white look right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;21.  Are you a saver or a spender?&lt;/span&gt;  So far I'm a spender because there just isn't much extra after bills to spend.    I spend the money on the bills.  No fun there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;22.   What is the last book you read? &lt;/span&gt; Bound for Murder by Laura Childs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;23.  Do you drink your soda from a straw?&lt;/span&gt;  What's soda?  Around these here parts we call it Pop.  And no I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;24.  What did you last IM say? &lt;/span&gt; Watch 4 Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;25.  Are you someone's best friend? &lt;/span&gt; Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;26.    What are you dong tomorrow? &lt;/span&gt; Taking the Princess to school, running errands while she is there.  Cooking  &amp;amp; doing laundry.  Same ole, same ole. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;27.   Where is your Mom right now? &lt;/span&gt; Probably kicked back in her recliner reading a book while my Dad watches something stupid on TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;28.    Look to your left &amp;amp; what do you see? &lt;/span&gt;  An overflowing kitchen counter that I&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; really&lt;/span&gt; need to clean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;29.  What color is your watch?  &lt;/span&gt;Pink&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;30.   What do you think of when you think of Australia?&lt;/span&gt;   Kangaroo's &amp;amp; the Outback.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;31.    Would you consider Plastic Surgery?  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe if I had an accident &amp;amp; I needed it.  Otherwise no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;32.  What is your birthstone?&lt;/span&gt;  Emerald. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;33.  Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive through? &lt;/span&gt; I always go through the drive through.  I would rather hit the drive through &amp;amp; bring it home then bring the kids in there.   I guess it's still a habit from when I had 3 kids under 5.  Never get out of the car with them if you can possibly avoid it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;34.   How many kids do you want? &lt;/span&gt; I have 4 &amp;amp; since I'm almost 45 I think I done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;35.  Do you have a dog?&lt;/span&gt;  Yep.  Bailey the Wonder Dog with the cast iron stomach.   She can( &amp;amp; has) eat anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;36.  The last person you talked to on the phone? &lt;/span&gt; Smitty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;37.   Have you met anyone famous? &lt;/span&gt; I met Ward &amp;amp; Jeff Burton's(Nascar driver's) Dad at a Casino in Vegas.  He was playing  a $100.00 slot machine like it was a quarter machine.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;38.  Any plans today?&lt;/span&gt;  Yep.  Planting myself on the couch after the Princess is in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;39.  How many states have you lived in? &lt;/span&gt; Only 1, Illinois&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;40.  Ever go to college?&lt;/span&gt;  no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;41.  Where are you right now?&lt;/span&gt;  On the computer in the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;42.  The biggest annoyance in your life right now? &lt;/span&gt;  That our other house is not selling.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; want/need it to sell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;43.  Last song you listened to? &lt;/span&gt; The theme song to Arthur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;44.  Where did you last overnight away from home? &lt;/span&gt;Last Columbus Day the entire family went camping in Seward, Ill.  As I type this I realize I need to get away more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;45.  Are you allergic to anything?&lt;/span&gt;  Penicillin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;46.  Favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time?&lt;/span&gt;  My tennis shoes.  Nothing fancy about them but they are comfy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;47.  Are you jealous of anyone?&lt;/span&gt;  Yes.  People whose house's are selling.  See a theme going here? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;48.  Is anyone jealous of you?  &lt;/span&gt;Why would they be?  I'm just a plain boring Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;49.  What kind of weather do you have today?&lt;/span&gt;  It's freeze your face off cold.  It's  7°  &amp;amp; windy.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;50.  What time is it?&lt;/span&gt;  7:00pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;51.  Do any of your friends have children? &lt;/span&gt; Yep, all of them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;52.  Do you eat healthy? &lt;/span&gt; I could lie &amp;amp; say I do, but sadly no.  I eat terrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;53.  What do you usually do during the day? &lt;/span&gt; Clean, do laundry, cook, do laundry, drop kids off, do laundry, pick kids up oh &amp;amp; did I mention that I do laundry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;54.  Do you hate anyone right now?&lt;/span&gt;  Yes.  Anyone that has a house on the market &amp;amp; they sold it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;55.  Do you use the word 'Hello' daily? &lt;/span&gt; Mostly on the phone but I do say Hello to the cashiers at the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;56.  What is one dream you have accomplished?&lt;/span&gt;  I took my kids to Disney.  Well not the Princess but she wasn't born yet so I don't think that counts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;57.  How old will you be turning on your next birthday? &lt;/span&gt; 45. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;58.  Have you ever been to Six Flags?&lt;/span&gt;  Yes.  Many times.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;59.  How did you get one of your scars?&lt;/span&gt;  Tripping over a lawn chair in my Uncle's back yard.  It put a gash on my knee that should of had stitches. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;60.  What is your favorite drink? &lt;/span&gt; Pepsi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There don't you feel better knowing all this cool stuff about me?  I know I'll sleep better now that you know all of my secrets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-6835776922931535415?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/6835776922931535415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=6835776922931535415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6835776922931535415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6835776922931535415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/02/just-for-record-nasty-smell-coming-from.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3334823174078621312</id><published>2008-02-14T11:12:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T11:25:47.359-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Get your game on</title><content type='html'>Sometimes being a Mom sucks.  Today for example I am playing the "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what is that smell&lt;/span&gt;" game.  It's a lot of fun.  There can be as many players as you want but only 1 person is "it".  That would be me.  All the other players just complain every time they walk into the smelly room.  They never actually do any "smell hunting".  Today I have it narrowed down to the area around the sink.  The sink is of course over flowing with dishes.  I'm afraid to load the dishwasher because I kinda scared of what I will find in the bottom of the sink.  So I am doing the only thing I can.  Everything else but the kitchen. So far I have cleaned 2 bathrooms &amp;amp; folded laundry.  I think I can successfully avoid the kitchen for most of the afternoon.  But I'm gonna have to take care of it before dinner because there are no more clean plates left.  Although depending on what we are having we &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;could&lt;/span&gt; use paper plates.  Then I could put off the sink issue until tomorrow.  But I'm afraid it might take on a life of it's own by then.  The laundry pile did that once.  Scared me to death.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3334823174078621312?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3334823174078621312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3334823174078621312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3334823174078621312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3334823174078621312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/02/get-your-game-on.html' title='Get your game on'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3590527885129440673</id><published>2008-02-11T10:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T11:16:18.579-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There''s something wrong with the air in my house.   It is loaded with flu germs.  Anyone know how to disinfect ALL the air in my house?  We have had the flu here for at least 2 weeks.  The Princess &amp;amp; I had it last.    We both had it for 3 days.  We still don't have our normal appetites back yet.  This strain really takes a lot out of you.  Then this morning Spike woke up puking.  Again. *sigh*  Are we ever going to get rid of this?  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just can't&lt;/span&gt; get it again.  I don't have the strength to go through it again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have more snow coming.  It's that just great? (read with sarcasm) We just had 3 feet dumped on us a few days ago.  I'm still trying to dig out the end of the driveway.  We had it all dug out once.  Then the nice plow guy waited around the corner until we went inside &amp;amp; packed us in tight.  Wasn't that nice of him?  Then it got "freeze your face off" cold out &amp;amp; it froze solid.  We now have a driveway just wide enough for a Yugo to pull in.  Only problem is that I drive a Tank.  And there is a HUGE bump of snow/ice that you have to drive over first before you can even make it into the driveway.    I love winter don't you?  NOT.  Even my kids are getting sick of it.  I thought all kids loved snow.    On the news they gave us the amounts of snow that we have gotten.  Last year we got 11 inches of snow total.  This year it is 41 inches and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still counting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I need to move somewhere warm.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3590527885129440673?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3590527885129440673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3590527885129440673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3590527885129440673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3590527885129440673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/02/theres-something-wrong-with-air-in-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-8933932582861100472</id><published>2008-02-05T14:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T14:14:45.174-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Unwanted guest</title><content type='html'>We have the flu.  Almost all of us.  Spike started it last weekend &amp;amp; even missed 2 days of school because of it.  Then over the weekend Pookie got it. Yesterday the Princess got it.  This morning Queenie got it &amp;amp; now I am feeling funky too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how we got it.  I never asked for it or invited it to stay this long.  Even after it leaves 1 person there is a cough that lingers on.  This is the perfect time for Pookie to be sick too.  We have about a foot of snow coming to night &amp;amp; tomorrow.   So he will be out all night &amp;amp; all day tomorrow.  You have to admire his impeccable timing.  He does this every year.  Gets sick just in time for a blizzard.  He is learning though.  He came home last night sick &amp;amp; actually went to the Dr. today.  Usually he decides to wait until he can hardly move or has pneumonia before he goes to the Dr.  But then again he is a guy.  It only took about 6 or 7 years for him to "get it".   I think it's finally sunk in.  We all know that no matter how many times you tell them something they will never do it unless they think it's "their" idea.  I'm glad women don't carry that gene.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8933932582861100472?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8933932582861100472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8933932582861100472' title='77 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8933932582861100472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8933932582861100472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/02/unwanted-guest.html' title='Unwanted guest'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>77</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-3456513491514535349</id><published>2008-01-31T07:51:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T08:33:15.809-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday was officially "freeze your face off" cold.  I didn't want to leave the house but I did.  The Princess has story time at the library &amp;amp; I needed a few things so I could make Chili for dinner.  Once again I knew what I was having but didn't have all the stuff to make it.  Happens to me a lot.  I should of stayed home &amp;amp; made something else for dinner.  It was REALLY cold out.  Even the Princess was complaining.   AND I ended up going out again when Pookie got home.  The garage called &amp;amp; said the Tank was done.  I really missed driving my truck.   While it was spending a few days at the Spa I had to drive our little pickup.  It has a bench seat.  When you put the car seat in, there is not a lot of room for the 3rd person that has to go.  We were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; close whenever we went anywhere.  I guess it all depends on what you are used to driving.  I am used to driving with the seat up as far as it will go &amp;amp; NOT having my passenger sit in my lap. &lt;br /&gt;I had no idea just how close I sat when I drove until  I rode with Queenie.   She  drives with the seat in the same spot I do.   As a passenger you have NO leg room &amp;amp; the window is really close to your face.  Smitty won't ride with me in the front any more.  At 6 feet tall he just can't fold himself that small.  He rides in the back.  Makes me feel like a taxi driver.&lt;br /&gt;But as a Mom that is my job.  I am Chef, Laundry Goddess, Cleaning Queen, Referee, Accountant, Time Keeper &amp;amp; Taxi Driver.  It's a job I love &amp;amp; hate.   Most of the time I love it more then I hate it, but there are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;THOSE DAYS&lt;/span&gt; when it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait a minute.  I can't remember &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;EVER&lt;/span&gt; getting a check for this job.  I should be making some really big bucks for doing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;EVERYTHING&lt;/span&gt; around here.  In my next life I am going to get paid for this job.  Scratch that. In my next life I am marrying a rich guy.  Problem solved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3456513491514535349?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3456513491514535349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3456513491514535349' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3456513491514535349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3456513491514535349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/01/yesterday-was-officially-freeze-your.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-5179867882532160941</id><published>2008-01-28T12:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T13:17:13.203-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Errands are never quick</title><content type='html'>Today I had errands to run.  We are totally out of milk &amp;amp; juice.  I'm not sure how that happened.  Pookie &amp;amp; I even went to Aldi over the weekend.  Of course I had no idea that we were totally out of juice until I got home.  Then because we didn't have any that's all the Princess wanted to drink.  Like a broken record she kept asking for juice.  We kept telling her we were out but she wasn't buying it at all.  I think she thought if she asked enough I would eventually produce some.   Didn't happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I had plans this morning Spike woke up puking.  Happens every time I make plans.    You would think I would learn.  At least he is old enough where I can leave him home alone for a little while.  I left the house well before 9:00 hoping to get everything done quickly so I could get back to him.  While driving to the store I noticed the "check gages" light pop on.&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm.  That's not supposed to be there.&lt;br /&gt;I look at the gages &amp;amp; the 2nd one is almost all the way over to the right.&lt;br /&gt;Uh-oh that's not supposed to be over there.  It's supposed to be on the left.&lt;br /&gt;I call Pookie &amp;amp; he tells me to stop the truck right away.  So what do I do?  I drive the rest of the way to the store.  After all I can't just stop the car on the side of the road.  (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just for the record&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pookie expects this.  I have also been known to drive home on a flat tire&lt;/span&gt;) Just as I stop the truck smoke starts to pour out of the hood.  That can't be a good thing. &lt;br /&gt;Pookie calls a friend to pick us up and the poor Tank is left sitting all alone in the parking lot.  I just know that I will &lt;del&gt;have to&lt;/del&gt; get to go along tonight to bring it home or take it someplace to be fixed. I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's a good thing we are the "Sanford's" of the neighborhood &amp;amp; have extra vehicles around.  At least I will have something to drive while the Tank is in the shop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-5179867882532160941?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/5179867882532160941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=5179867882532160941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5179867882532160941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5179867882532160941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/01/errands-are-never-quick.html' title='Errands are never quick'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-4913786042962292545</id><published>2008-01-25T08:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T08:52:57.594-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mission</title><content type='html'>My mission (if I chose to accept it) was to go shopping with my best friend &amp;amp; help her find a rolling tote to hold all of her scrapbooking stuff.  It was gonna be tough spending her money but I thought I was up to the challenge.  She said since I &lt;del&gt;sucked her in&lt;/del&gt; got her interested  in scrapbooking it was my duty to help her.  First she looked at my rolling totes to see if they would work for her, then we were off.  It was really cold out but her car has heated seats so I thought I would make it.  Her car also tells you the temp outside.  Last night it said -2° when we left.  I didn't need to know that.  Even though it was "freeze your face off" cold I went shopping with her.  Why?  Because I got out of the house without my kids.  We had a great time shopping.  It's amazing how much stuff I thought she needed.  I spent $4.00 &amp;amp; she spend $3000.00.  Well maybe not &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;quite &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;that much.  She didn't even get a tote.  After hitting Michael's, JoAnn Fabrics &amp;amp; Archiver's  we finally found &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;the &lt;/span&gt;tote in Archiver's.  After finding out that they have coupon's every once in a while she opted to wait.  But I was VERY successful in getting her to spend her money.  I'm sure once her husband finds out how well I did he will want to thank me personally.  I think a gift card in a large amount would be an acceptable gift don't you?  Or cash.  Cash is always good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a blast shopping together.  We even had dinner.  It's been a long time since we've done that.  Plus I discovered another talent I have.  I am VERY GOOD at spending other peoples money.  Who knew?  I'm also very tough.  After all her car told us it was -8°  when we were on the way home.  How many people do you know who will shop in weather that cold?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you need &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;YOUR&lt;/span&gt; money spent &amp;amp; it's cold out I'm your girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-4913786042962292545?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/4913786042962292545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=4913786042962292545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/4913786042962292545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/4913786042962292545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-mission.html' title='My Mission'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-5404759343882367709</id><published>2008-01-22T12:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T12:53:03.649-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My kids were off of school yesterday for Martin Luther King Day.  It was really cold too.  I didn't leave the house at all.  Too cold for me.  I spent the day hanging out in front of the fire place.  It was a good place to be.   Although Sunday was colder &amp;amp; did I go out?  Yes I did. On the coldest day of the year I went out.   I went to a crop.  I have my priorities.  I got to go with my best friend to another friends house &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WITHOUT&lt;/span&gt; the Princess.  I had to go.  It would of been wrong of me to stay home.   I always take Spike with me to carry stuff in.  His friend also lives at the house I crop at.  Works for both of us.  I traveled light this time.  I only took 2 large totes, 1 small one &amp;amp; my box of stamps.  That is traveling light for me.  I hate leaving anything at home.  What if I need it?  I can't go back home for it. I might never make it out again.  I can't risk it.  So I just bring everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pookie had the day off yesterday too.  He made plans with a friend.  Then he looked at the weather.  He watched it all week grumbling that it was gonna snow on his day off &amp;amp; he would have to work.  The weather man was right &amp;amp; it did snow &amp;amp; he did have to go to work.  He was home in plenty of time to enjoy hanging with his buddy.  Then around 8:00 he got called back in.  I have no idea what time he came home.  I have learned to sleep though him coming in at all hours.  (He used to work nights.)  Then I woke up at 2:00 am.  He was just getting ready to go to work again.  He is gonna take his "before bed nap" early tonight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite show is starting again soon.  "LOST" premieres on Jan 31st.  Click the link for a rundown of what has happened so far.    &lt;a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/lost/index?pn=index"&gt;http://abc.go.com/primetime/lost/index?pn=index&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never miss an episode.  I think that's the only show that I don't miss.  Most of the time I don't care what is on as long as Pookie isn't watching something dumb.  He does watch a lot of stupid tv shows.  Must be a guy thing.  The other thing he does is change channels with lightning speed.  He says he does it because he doesn't like watching commercials.  I think he does it to piss me off. It works.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-5404759343882367709?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/5404759343882367709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=5404759343882367709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5404759343882367709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5404759343882367709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-kids-were-off-of-school-yesterday.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-826363342728013376</id><published>2008-01-09T10:02:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T10:36:47.464-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm going alone!</title><content type='html'>Today I am going to the Dr.  I'm very excited.  Not about the Dr. visit itself but because I get to go ALONE.  That wasn't the original plan either.  I was going to have to take the Princess with me because I couldn't get a sitter.  My appt is at 2:45.  Right in the middle of nap time.   Missing a nap is never a good thing.  AND I have to have a pap.  I know,too much information,  but I wasn't looking forward to the questions I was going to get from the Princess about what the Dr. was doing down there.  'Nuf said.   Both Spike &amp;amp; Queenie woke up sick today.  I'm not happy that they are sick but at least this way I don't have to take the Princess on a memorable trip to the Dr.  I don't want any of that stuff coming out at Pre School.   Apparently my child speaks her mind at school.     One of them can lay on the couch &amp;amp; sleep while I go to the Dr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited about going alone.  I'm not sure what to bring with me.  Do I bring a book?  Should I bring Queenie's DS? I've become addicted to playing her Horsez game. Or should I just bring my IPod.  Wait, the IPod has been MIA for a while.  I'll have to bring a book.  I know I'm putting a lot of thought into bringing something, but if I don't Murphy's law will pop up.  There will be no magazines, screaming kids( I can tune those out, it's a Mom thing) &amp;amp; I will have to wait forever because the Dr. will be behind.  If I bring something then I won't have time to use it &amp;amp; I will get in early.  See how that works? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's hoping I have a fun filled afternoon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-826363342728013376?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/826363342728013376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=826363342728013376' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/826363342728013376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/826363342728013376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-going-alone.html' title='I&apos;m going alone!'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-6788048901084387314</id><published>2008-01-07T12:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T12:43:55.058-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My prediction of how the morning would go was pretty correct.  No one got up on time.  I got up at 7:05 &amp;amp; Queenie was still in bed &amp;amp; so was Spike.  It was pitch black out still.  I got everyone moving &amp;amp; no one was late &amp;amp; no one forgot anything.  At least nothing they are calling home about.  The Princess &amp;amp; I watched TV for a little while &amp;amp; then got moving. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We cleaned her room first.  Her idea of cleaning her room is not the same as mine.  In her eyes as long as everything is off the floor then it's clean.  Her bed was full, but underneath was clean.  Her baby's pack-n-play was full of toys(yes her baby's have their own play pen, they are just starting to crawl &amp;amp; get into &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;) but the floor was clean.  Then she got out her vacuum.  It was very cute watching her vacuum her room.  Too bad it wasn't really doing anything.  After I really vacuumed then I had to go through all the stuff she piled everywhere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is 64° out according to the computer.  Is it really January 7th?  I have my windows open in the kitchen.  If the sun would come out it would really be a nice day.  I thought Spring was coming early until I looked at the 10 day forecast.  We have snow coming on Friday.  For a while there I thought my dream of just having Winter in the month of December was coming true.   I really need to move somewhere warm but where it is warm there are bugs.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BIG&lt;/span&gt; bugs.  I don't do bugs.  I don't run screaming &amp;amp; stand on chairs when I see one but I just don't like them.  I am getting better at picking up dead ones though.  I don't have to use a whole box of Kleenex anymore.  I am down to only using 2 or 3.  But I still flush them or burn them in the fire place.  I'm not taking any chances!  And yes I look to make sure they went down.  I'm not having the little suckers try to make an escape while &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; using the potty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone live somewhere warm where there aren't any bugs?   Cause that's where I'm moving as soon as I find it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-6788048901084387314?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/6788048901084387314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=6788048901084387314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6788048901084387314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6788048901084387314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-prediction-of-how-morning-would-go.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-640301746594615694</id><published>2008-01-06T22:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-06T23:28:42.334-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I went to a crop at a friends house today.  I took enough pictures so that I could get at least 6 pages done.  With all the &lt;del&gt;working&lt;/del&gt; chatting  I did I  got 5 pages done.  Pookie always laughs at me when I go to a crop.  I always take everything I own.  I look like I am moving out.  I have 3 large totes &amp;amp; various other &lt;del&gt;crap&lt;/del&gt; stuff.  I have another friend who doesn't like going to crops because she never knows what she should take.  I bring everything I own.    Problem solved.  I have everything I need.  Which is important to me because once I leave the house I AM NOT going back.  That would just be flirting with danger.  I might never make it out again.  I'm not going to risk it.  I just bring everything I own that way there is no problem.  The best part was &lt;del&gt;being away from home without any kids&lt;/del&gt;  talking to big people.   I  took Spike with me &lt;del&gt;so he could carry all my stuff in the house for me&lt;/del&gt; because his friend lives at the house where I cropped at.    He played computer games all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We borrowed a friends Wii for the weekend.  The kids &amp;amp; Pookie have been having a great time with it.  I played 2 games of bowling &amp;amp; my arm is sore. I am really out of shape!    The kids &amp;amp; Pookie are complaining that they are sore too.  What does that tell you about my families exercise plan? I think we need to get out more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spike had a friend over last night &amp;amp; the Princess &lt;del&gt;had to&lt;/del&gt; got to play too.  They gave her a pair of socks to use as her controller &amp;amp; she bowled too.  It was great.  She was having a wonderful time thinking she was playing.  I wasn't letting her near the Wii controllers.  We are only borrowing.  I am not buying them a new one cause my kid broke it!  That wasn't the plan at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School starts up again tomorrow morning.  I know exactly how it is going to go.  I will have to peel my kids out of bed because they won't get up when their alarm goes off.  It's the same after every break.  I'm sure one of them will not be able to find that "something special" they wanted to wear to school &amp;amp; the other one will forget homework &amp;amp; I will have to bring it to school.  It's not even Monday &amp;amp; I already am not looking forward to it.  But on the plus side I do know what I am having for dinner. AND I have all the stuff I need to make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a little miracle right there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-640301746594615694?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/640301746594615694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=640301746594615694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/640301746594615694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/640301746594615694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-went-to-crop-at-friends-house-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3004458350969421706</id><published>2008-01-04T09:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T09:23:26.139-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Remedies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" &gt;I received this list in an e-mail from a friend.  I think they bear repeating.   So many of us are forgetting about all the good ole Home Remedies that are out there.  Read them &amp;amp; enjoy.  Can you come up with any on your own?  Right now I can't but then again I haven't had a shower yet.  All my good ideas happen while I am in the shower.  Maybe because it's the only time I am alone all day.  It's hard to think when you have a  whining toddler attached to your thigh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;AMAZINGLY SIMPLE HOME REMEDIES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. If you're choking on an &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1199458480_3"&gt;ice cube&lt;/span&gt; simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat. Presto! The blockage will instantly remove itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Avoid cutting yourself when slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold while you chop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Avoid arguments with the Mrs. about lifting the &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1199458480_4"&gt;toilet seat&lt;/span&gt; by using the sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. For high blood pressure sufferers: simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure in your veins. Remember to use a timer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. A mouse trap, placed on top of your alarm clock, will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives, then you'll be afraid to cough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. You only need two tools in  life - WD-40 and Duct Tape. If it doesn't move and should, use the WD-40. If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Remember: Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daily Thought: SOME PEOPLE ARE LIKE SLINKIES. NOT REALLY GOOD FOR ANYTHING BUT THEY BRING A SMILE TO YOUR FACE WHEN PUSHED DOWN THE STAIRS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can't fix it with a hammer, you've got an electrical problem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; font-family: Tahoma;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt; color: black; font-family: Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&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/5645498263993872766-3004458350969421706?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3004458350969421706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3004458350969421706' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3004458350969421706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3004458350969421706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/01/home-remedies.html' title='Home Remedies'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-3359613005695646897</id><published>2008-01-03T09:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T14:19:07.449-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I want to improve on</title><content type='html'>It's day 3 of the new year &amp;amp; I haven't posted my "Things I want to improve on" list.  I'm not going to make New Years Resolutions because I never keep them.  So instead I am making a list of all the stuff I would like to improve on.  I'm sure we all have a list like that.  Here is mine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Keep up with the laundry better.(easer said then done.  6 people make a lot of laundry!)&lt;br /&gt;2.  Know what is for dinner well before dinner time.  (I am really bad with this one)&lt;br /&gt;3.  Get all the stuff out of my room that doesn't belong there.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Keep my cabinets stocked better.(Actually I just need better hiding spots for the good stuff)&lt;br /&gt;5.  Have a better attitude towards my bitchy(did I say that?) teenagers.&lt;br /&gt;6.  Exercise more.  (anything would be more then I am doing now.)&lt;br /&gt;7.  Have more patience with my MIL.  (some days are worse then others!)&lt;br /&gt;8.  Keep my house a little cleaner.&lt;br /&gt;9.  Organize my desk.  It always looks like a bomb went off on it.&lt;br /&gt;10.  Plan more family picnics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are a good start.  Don't want to hurt myself right away.  They are all easy things I just need to find time to do them.  Sometimes taking a nap is a much better idea then laundry.  The dinner thing &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;should&lt;/span&gt; be a given, but sadly it's not.  Although I do know what we are having today &amp;amp; it's not even 10:00 am yet.  Pretty good start. But I do have to go to the store to get the supplies.  Just cause I know what we are having doesn't mean that I have everything I need to make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just looked at the weather.  It's -5°  (with wind chill factor) I really don't want to go out &amp;amp; shop.  But I put it off yesterday because it was cold.  I can't use that excuse every day in the winter.  I really wish I didn't have to downsize &amp;amp;  let the maid go.  She could do all this shopping for me.   In a perfect world I would really have a maid or 2 or 3.  A cook too. Oh &amp;amp; as long as I am planning my perfect house lets get someone to do laundry too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There.  I feel better.&lt;br /&gt;Now I can lay around all day in my robe &amp;amp; eat BonBons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone wanna join me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3359613005695646897?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3359613005695646897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3359613005695646897' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3359613005695646897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3359613005695646897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2008/01/things-i-want-to-improvew-on.html' title='Things I want to improve on'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-9018011773781179003</id><published>2007-12-29T11:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T12:22:43.305-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Christmas Cough</title><content type='html'>The day after Christmas and all through the night all you can hear is the Princess trying for all she is worth to hack up her lungs.    Every now &amp;amp; then she throws up trying to get the little suckers out.  So far she is having no luck.    She tried most of the night to get the lungs out but they're not budging.  The next morning I call the Dr.  I just want them to call in a prescription cough medicine. (The over the counter stuff just isn't touching this cough.) Doesn't sound too hard does it?  Think again.  Here is my day so far.  The Princess was up all night long coughing up those lungs &amp;amp; barely slept an hour.  My Nieces Thing 1 &amp;amp; Think 2 showed up at 8:00 to spend the day with me while their parents worked.  They are 3 years old &amp;amp; 3 months.  So today I have two 3 year olds &amp;amp; one 3 month old.  I&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; DO NOT&lt;/span&gt; want to have to leave the house.  The nurse informs me that the Princess has to be seen(of course she does) &amp;amp; can I bring her at 1:30.  Great.  Now I have no choice.  I HAVE to leave the house.  Now there is no way I am bringing her at 1:30 &amp;amp; messing up 3 naps.  I ask for an earlier appt &amp;amp; they give me an 11:00.  That was at 10:00  &amp;amp; it took me a half hour to get everyone ready.  It really shouldn't be hard to find shoes for 2 little girls but it was.  Thing 1 took hers off at 8:00 &amp;amp; they immediately got lost.  The Princess is always hiding, I mean moving her shoes to new places.  It took awhile to find 4 shoes.  For a little while I didn't even care if they matched.  I just wanted 4 shoes that fit.  But I finally found 2 matching pairs.  I finally get shoes on both girls &amp;amp; then start the process of packing up Thing 2 into her carseat.  Thank goodness she was sleeping.  That made it easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the Dr. it was really busy.  After waiting in line for 10 minutes to check in we sat down just in time to watch the credits roll for "A Bugs Life".  Then we got to watch the tv change from black to blue to snow.  Big fun let me tell you.  The girls were all really good &amp;amp; Thing 2 slept the whole time.  (Thank you God)  When they call us back the girls looked so cute.  They were each carrying their own coat &amp;amp; holding hands.  I had several people ask if they were twins.  They don't even look alike, but they are the same height so I guess that makes them twins.  I tell them no just as Thing 1 says,"Hurry up Mom." That didn't help the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No they are not twins &lt;/span&gt; theory I was going for. She has always called me Mom.  (&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Just so you know she also calls her Mother Mom too&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Dr. comes in &amp;amp; checks her out.  Then gives me an RX for  a cough med &amp;amp; tells me that it has Codine in it &amp;amp; it might make her sleepy.   Really?  I was getting a little excited.  I love cold meds that make your kids sleepy.  There was a commercial on a few years ago for some cold medicine.  The parents said that they just couldn't give little Timmy that purple cold medicine because it mad him so sleepy.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What do ya mean&lt;/span&gt;?  Isn't that the whole point?    I pick out my cold meds for the Princess because they make her sleepy.  Now just to clarify she gets the meds at nap &amp;amp; bedtime.  The making her sleepy part is just an added bonus.  It means less trips to her room for drinks, lotion, chapstick, fixing covers, finding her flashlight, looking for YaYa #2,tinkle break, scratch my back, I'm hot, lay with me for a little minute, find my Teletubbie book, turn my music back on......the list goes on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoever put the "Stuff that makes your kids sleepy" in the cold meds must of had kids themselves.   God bless them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-9018011773781179003?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/9018011773781179003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=9018011773781179003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/9018011773781179003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/9018011773781179003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-cough.html' title='The Christmas Cough'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-5550781178935189933</id><published>2007-12-19T12:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T14:06:24.503-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Seeing Santa</title><content type='html'>We went to the Mall last night.  Seeing Santa was one reason.  Another reason was so Pookie could give me some ideas for Christmas.  Well he could of stayed home.   He didn't give me 1 idea.  He was useless there.  Although he did carry the Princess's coat.   Other then that he didn't do a thing.  He didn't even drive, Queenie did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We tried to see Santa while we were there.  I say tried because it didn't happen.  I got in line but there was about a 3 hour wait.  I just couldn't do that to her.    We went shopping &amp;amp; ate.  The highlight of the mall trip for her was when she had to make tinkles.  I took her into the family bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;: Look Mom a potty just my size!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:  How exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;:Yea! Look Mom there's one for you too.  We can make tinkles at the same time!(we did)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;:  How exciting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;:  And look Mom there is a sink just my size too!  And one for you.  Wow this place is great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take my kid to the Mall &amp;amp; that is what she gets the biggest kick out of.  The bathroom.  I think we need to get out more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I went back to the Mall.  I am really using up the gas driving back &amp;amp; forth for this Santa thing.  I was determined to get a picture of my kid sitting with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;THIS&lt;/span&gt; Santa.  Not sure why.  Must be the Christmas Season thing.  On the way to the Mall &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;again, &lt;/span&gt;we talked about how she was going to sit on his lap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;: Oh I'm not sitting on his lap Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Why not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;: I don't want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Don't you want tot tell him all the toys that you want? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;: You tell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Nope I'm not telling him, you have to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am driving to the Mall for the 3rd time to get this picture &amp;amp; she announces that she is not going to sit on his lap. With some bribing on my part she did do it.    I told her if she stood next to Santa so Mom could get a picture then she could throw money in the fountain.  AND she could ride the rides there.  (They have cars/firetrucks &amp;amp; helicopters that you put .50 in &amp;amp; they ride for like 30 seconds. )   It worked.   I have a picture of her &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;SITTING&lt;/span&gt; on his lap .  I told her I was very proud of her for being so brave.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she says to me: Can you buy me a toy cause I was so brave? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.  Not a chance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just sucked the fun right out of that trip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-5550781178935189933?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/5550781178935189933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=5550781178935189933' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5550781178935189933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5550781178935189933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/seeing-santa.html' title='Seeing Santa'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-7487569250403199250</id><published>2007-12-18T15:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T15:45:05.726-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas shopping</title><content type='html'>I'm almost done with my Christmas shopping are you?  Only 7 days left.  It's really sneaking up fast.  I have to re buy a 4 lb box of Twizzlers(see post below) &amp;amp; shop for Pookie.  He is the hardest one to get for.  Every year I ask him for ideas &amp;amp; every year he will tell me he wants a new truck.  Never fails.  It's not funny any more either.  It was funny the first year, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;maybe &lt;/span&gt;the second year, but now it's just annoying&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.   &lt;/span&gt;I know he wants a new truck &amp;amp; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;IF&lt;/span&gt; I could actually afford to get him a new one you  just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; I would get the wrong one.  I would get the one that the Waternater always goes bad, or the one that has the smallest blinker fluid tank ever.  I just know I would get it wrong.  So it's probably a good thing that I can't afford to get him a new one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have 2  small things for him but I would like to get him something else.    He is a guy &amp;amp; when ever he needs something he just buys it.  This makes it very hard to get  him anything good because he has already gotten it for himself.  We have been married for a long time &amp;amp; he has been doing that for as long as I have known him.  It must be a guy thing.  I have friends who complain about their guys doing the same thing.  He is gonna end up with a pair of football shaped fuzzy slippers if he doesn't give me an idea soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight we are going to the Mall to take the Princess to see Santa.  I hope she doesn't hate him on site like last year.   This year she has a better idea of who he is.  She KNOWS that he brings presents.   I figure we have a 50/50 chance of her actually getting near him this year.   Better odds then last year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder which store will have the best price on football shaped fuzzy slippers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-7487569250403199250?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/7487569250403199250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=7487569250403199250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/7487569250403199250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/7487569250403199250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-shopping.html' title='Christmas shopping'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3468819604181923574</id><published>2007-12-17T13:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T14:08:06.032-06:00</updated><title type='text'>That &amp;%$#@ Dog!</title><content type='html'>Bailey the Wonder Dog struck again.  The Princess &amp;amp; I had 2 places to go this morning.  We were going to be gone less then an hour.  Smitty was home, sleeping, but he was home.  I decided NOT to crate the dog when I left. Bad move on my part.   There was nothing out that she could eat.  No food was on the counter.  The bread drawer had all the plastic tucked inside &amp;amp; there were no bowls of half eaten stuff laying around.  Should be good right?  WRONG!  I ran my errands &amp;amp; Smitty was still in bed when I got back.  I went around the house picking up stuff &amp;amp; putting it away &amp;amp; because it is Monday I went to take the sheets off my bed.  I have a lot of bags of presents of the floor of my room.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;See where I am going with this?&lt;/span&gt;    All gifts that don't stay here, all bagged up, wrapped &amp;amp; ready to go.  As I walked into my room I noticed an open tub(think Ginormus) of Twizzlers laying on the floor among the many bags of gifts. I also noticed that most of it was gone.  Crap!  Damn dog!  She really had to dig for that too.  It was on the bottom of one of the bags of gifts.  She must of been able to smell it through the hermetically sealed plastic &amp;amp; wrapping paper.  In her defense she was really very neat about the whole process.  She only tore the corner of the paper on one of the gifts.  I don't even have to re wrap it.  She did manage to do a good job of eating the plastic tub &amp;amp; lid though.  She is gonna have the shits for days with the amount of Licorice that she ate.  Something must be wrong with her though because she didn't eat the entire tub.  Usually she finishes what she starts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WAS&lt;/span&gt; all done with my shopping.  Now I have to go out again &amp;amp; see if I can replace it.  I bought it on Black Friday.  It was an awesome deal, that's why I got it.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;IF &lt;/span&gt;I manage to find it again I know I will end up paying double.  I hate it when that happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some days I just hate that dog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3468819604181923574?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3468819604181923574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3468819604181923574' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3468819604181923574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3468819604181923574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/that-dog.html' title='That &amp;%$#@ Dog!'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-2867053003246140916</id><published>2007-12-12T08:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T08:23:45.235-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Day</title><content type='html'>Yesterday my kids had a Snow Day.  Actually it was an Ice Day.  We had an ice storm &amp;amp; the roads were a mess.  I remember snow days as a kid.  We didn't get them often but when we did it was because we had a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;TON&lt;/span&gt; of snow.  We had a blizzard in 1979 &amp;amp; we had so much snow that a snow plow got stuck in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;HUGE&lt;/span&gt; drift on the road in front of our house.  The drift went from our front door across the street to the neighbors front door.  It had to be at least 20 feet tall.  It was great.  We had so much company that day.  I remember one neighbor came to visit on ski's. There was really no other way to get to our house.   There was lots of playing outside &amp;amp; we drank hot chocolate by the gallons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanna know what my kids did on their snow day?  Sure is different these days.  I found out about 6:30 that there was no school.  With Pookie being a plow guy we always know when bad weather is coming.  I checked our districts web page &amp;amp; it said no school so I went back to bed.  I didn't bother to shut off anyone's alarms because I knew they wouldn't get up on their own.  I got up at 8:00 &amp;amp; Spike was already up playing Warcraft online with a friend.  They have mics &amp;amp; talk back &amp;amp; forth,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; loudly&lt;/span&gt;.  I woke Queenie up at 10:00 by telling her she was gonna be late for school if she didn't hurry up.  She wandered into the bathroom, looked at the clock &amp;amp; realized it was 10:00.    She had a friend come over after lunch &amp;amp; they spent the day in her room playing Sims &amp;amp; listening to music.  Spike spent the day playing WarCraft &amp;amp; when he got tired of that he switched to  Play Station 2.  He had a busy day.  Mine wasn't much better.  I took a nap in the afternoon when the Princess did because for some reason I didn't sleep well the night before.  I hate it when that happens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snow days today are a lot different from when I was a kid.  What were your snow days like as a kid?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-2867053003246140916?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/2867053003246140916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=2867053003246140916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2867053003246140916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2867053003246140916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/snow-day.html' title='Snow Day'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-1726116930953779280</id><published>2007-12-10T12:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T18:40:16.516-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Smitty is sick.  He has the flu.  Not the good kind either.  The puking kind.  Yuck.  I hate the flu.  Mainly because I know if one of my kids gets it, I'm next.    The kids do so much better with the flu then I do.  It wipes me out for a week or more.  I think it's because everyone else in the house gets to go to bed &amp;amp; sleep to get better, but I don't.    The Mom never gets to go to bed &amp;amp; sleep it off.  We have to suffer through making dinner, cleaning house &amp;amp; doing laundry.   Then after we get the little ones to bed we tell the husband that we are going to bed.  And they have the nerve to say, "What your going now?  You're not going to sit with me &amp;amp; watch tv?"&lt;br /&gt;(translation-you're not going to sit &amp;amp; watch me change channels at lightening speed?)&lt;br /&gt;When you tell them no they give that huge sigh.  Some women (not as tough as me) might give in, but I have had 4 kids &amp;amp; I have no patience for a husband who whines because he doesn't want to watch tv alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to watch tv alone.  It means that I can watch a whole tv show.  The whole thing too, not bits &amp;amp; pieces.  Nothing is more frustrating to me then to have the channel changed right when I was just getting into it.  I think all guys have the ability to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just know&lt;/span&gt; whenever their wife is starting to get interested in the show.  They quickly change  the channel pretending they didn't know that you were watching from the doorway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to love your husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't live with them &amp;amp; you can't legally kill them &amp;amp; get away with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14 Days til Christmas!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-1726116930953779280?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/1726116930953779280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=1726116930953779280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1726116930953779280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1726116930953779280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/smitty-is-sick.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-8450458822625612104</id><published>2007-12-10T12:11:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T12:27:03.817-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday's &amp; guns</title><content type='html'>My house is birthday party clean.  The party was yesterday.  Spike is now 14.   I remember when he was born &amp;amp; now he is 14.  Not sure how that happened.  Time sure flies.  One of the things he wanted for his birthday was a new Air Soft Gun.  His was broke.  I know nothing about Air Soft Guns.  Only that they shoot these pretty colored BB's.  There were about 10 different types of guns in the store.  I had no idea what one to get &amp;amp; neither did Pookie.  After spending at least 45 minutes in the isle we picked one out.  Then we went to WalMart.  They of course had different ones then the last store.  At least in this isle we found an expert.  He had to be at least 10 years old.  He was actually very helpful.  We still stuck with our original gun.  And before you ask, no I did not feel the slightest bit guilty or bad for buying my kid a gun.  I grew up around guns &amp;amp; can even shoot although it's been years.  My kids can all shoot thanks to my Dad &amp;amp; Pookie.  Spike &amp;amp; his friends all have air soft guns &amp;amp; have battles in the yard.  My yard actually looks like a battle field when they are done.  All the Princess's toys are used as shields &amp;amp; are spread out all over the yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did awesome with the gun.  It was just the one he wanted.  I'm not sure how we got so lucky on that one.  It took &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;FOREVER&lt;/span&gt; to pick it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Christmas he says he wants an Air Soft rifle.  I wonder how long it will take to pick that out.  Maybe I should leave now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8450458822625612104?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8450458822625612104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8450458822625612104' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8450458822625612104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8450458822625612104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/birthdays-guns.html' title='Birthday&apos;s &amp; guns'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-5712669469613137903</id><published>2007-12-06T19:48:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T09:20:07.362-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wired for sound</title><content type='html'>Someone put a quarter in the Princess.  She has gotten her 2nd wind &amp;amp; she is wired for sound.  It is almost bedtime so now is the perfect time to get all wound up.  Spike isn't helping either. He is chasing her around the kitchen.  I am just waiting for her to get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well she did it.  She got hurt.  She wiped out taking the corner in the kitchen.  I think she zigged when she should of zagged.  Spike of course was fine.  After 20 minutes of bawling she was fine.  It didn't help that she took a crappy nap &amp;amp; woke up from that crying.  As an added bonus for me she climbed into my lap while crying &amp;amp; promptly peed all over me.  Not quite sure what brought that on.  She has been potty trained for months.  I had to change &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ALL&lt;/span&gt; my clothes because she soaked almost everything I had on.  She got a new set of clothes too.  Now the hamper stinks.  I really wish I hadn't downsized &amp;amp; let my maid go.  She is probably in the tropics somewhere with a Cabana Boy waiting on her.  She'll never work for me again.  That'll teach her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's snowing.  I love the way it looks.  It makes everything so white &amp;amp; pretty.  Really cleans everything up.   Then the plow guys come out.  They throw dirty snow on top of all the clean pretty stuff.  Pookie is a plow guy so I really shouldn't put them down too much.  They do make it so you can drive down the street without ending up in the ditch.  But they do have the annoying habit of waiting around the corner watching as you shovel your driveway.  As soon as you are done they whip around the corner &amp;amp; plow the end of your driveway shut.  They all do it.  I think they learn it in plow guy school.  Pookie's not talking.  It must be a top secret thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-5712669469613137903?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/5712669469613137903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=5712669469613137903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5712669469613137903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5712669469613137903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/wired-for-sound.html' title='Wired for sound'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-2095920878906451611</id><published>2007-12-05T12:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T07:13:18.383-06:00</updated><title type='text'>All about me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt; Here is a questioner that I got in my e-mail last night.  It's kind of fun to see how much you know about your friends.  I sent it to 2 of my friends.  One I have known forever &amp;amp; the other one I have known since I had kids(about 18 years).  Both of them got everything right.  I was impressed.  I did very well answering my best friends questions too.  We have to stay friends because we know too much about each other!  I have to pick my battles with her.  Can't have important information leaking out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do have to say my favorite answer so far is from my friend that I have known forever.  Her answer to #14 What is your favorite memory of me was this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;New Years eve, many years ago, throwing you in your car, because you all ready passed out well before 10pm and later finding out that you opened the door to "hurl" and then fell back asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Great memory huh?  I do have to clarify that I was 18 or 19 at the time.  At that time it was legal to drink in Wisconsin when you were 18 so over the border we went.  I grew up near the border so it was a short drive.  I'm glad my car knew the way home.  More times then I care to remember(or so I've been told) I should not have driven.    I don't drink anymore. I got it all out of my system then.  Plus I'm a sleepy drunk.  Give me alcohol &amp;amp; I fall asleep or pass out.  I'm great at parties.  :0)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have fun with the questioner.  How much do you know about your friends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.    Where did we meet:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Take a stab at my middle name:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. How long have you known me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Do I    smoke:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What was your first impression of me upon    meeting:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Color of my eyes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Do I have    any siblings:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. What's one of my favorite things to    do:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Do you remember one of the first things I said to    you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. What's my favorite type of music:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What is the best feature about me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Am I shy or    outgoing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. What's your favorite memory of me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Any    special talents:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Would you consider me a friend:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. How many children do I have:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. If there was    one good nickname for me, what would it be:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. If you and I    were stranded on a desert island, what is one thing&lt;br /&gt;that I would    bring:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-2095920878906451611?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/2095920878906451611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=2095920878906451611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2095920878906451611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2095920878906451611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/all-about-me.html' title='All about me'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-2467662462486096650</id><published>2007-12-05T09:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T09:53:22.640-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's snowing!</title><content type='html'>Last night it started to snow.  As much as I hate winter I do love a good snow.  It looks so pretty coming down &amp;amp; as long as I don't have to leave the house I love it.  Pookie of course hates it when it snows because he has to work then.  He was home about a hour &amp;amp; a half last night before they called him back in.  I won't see him until after work tonight.  Then he will just eat &amp;amp; sleep.  I don't mind because then I get to be in charge of the TV.  Not sure why he always seems to think that he gets to hold the clicker.  It's not like it was in the wedding vows or anything.  I promise to Love,honor &amp;amp; be whiny when I'm sick, now THAT was in the wedding vows.  I definitely remember hearing him say that.  But the clicker thing, was not in the vows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with all this beautiful snow &amp;amp; having a husband that is NEVER home during that time comes the&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; dreaded shoveling of the driveway&lt;/span&gt;.  No one in this house wants to do it.  I woke up this morning before 7 &amp;amp; checked the school closings list, just in case, &amp;amp; then started to wake up the boys so they could shovel.  Spike didn't want to do it &amp;amp; Smitty said I'll just call someone to plow.  So I said when are they coming?  Of course he couldn't give me an answer so I kept up the "you have to shovel" mantra until they finally gave in &amp;amp; got up.  After much whining they both went outside.  Then they both came back in &amp;amp; said there was too much snow &amp;amp; they couldn't shovel.  I was very supportive &amp;amp; said in my best "Mom voice" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"waaaaaaa, get back out there &amp;amp; shovel.  It sucks to be you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very sympathetic don't ya think?  I have kids for 2 reasons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  So I don't have to mow lawn&lt;br /&gt;2.  I don't have to shovel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are 2 pretty good reasons to have kids.  Although the benefits do take a while to kick in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went to take Queenie to school they were trying to dig out the snow blower.  By the time I got back Smitty had half the driveway done.  All that complaining &amp;amp; it probably took him 20 minutes to do the whole driveway &amp;amp; a sidewalk.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is definitely a guy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-2467662462486096650?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/2467662462486096650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=2467662462486096650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2467662462486096650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2467662462486096650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/its-snowing.html' title='It&apos;s snowing!'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-8619313517861952340</id><published>2007-12-04T18:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T18:08:41.622-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Black Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; This was meant to post the week my internet went down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’m not exactly sure what happened.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was all caught up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;With Thanksgiving &amp;amp; Black Friday shopping I didn’t do laundry for 2 days.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now every hamper we own is full to over flowing &amp;amp; I can hardly open the laundry room door.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Every towel we own is dirty &amp;amp; the Princess is out of socks.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yesterday was change the sheets day too.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I know what you are thinking.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Let the sheets go until you get caught up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But I took a whiff of the boy’s sheets &amp;amp; said no way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So on top of all the other laundry I had to do sheets too.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;I have been playing catch up with the laundry for 3 days now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I hate it when that happens.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My internet has been down for 2 days.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was working fine yesterday morning &amp;amp; then after the kids went to school it quit.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I tried everything I know how to do to get it back up.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Nothing worked.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So finally last night I call the internet people.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That was fun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why is it so hard to get a real live person when you call any where?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It took me about 5 minutes or so to get through all the prompts.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I was disconnected &amp;amp; had to start all over.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It took 3 calls to get an actual live person.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And by the 3&lt;sup&gt;rd&lt;/sup&gt; call I was just pushing any button that I thought would get me to a person.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think I ended up in sales.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It had nothing to do with my no internet problem but at least she was real.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She also connected me to another live guy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I know why places do the automated thing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It saves them money.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But it is so frustrating to everyone who calls.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;By the time we get through all the prompts we have forgotten why we called in the first place.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I did manage to survive my Black Friday shopping.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I started my day at &lt;st1:time minute="30" hour="2"&gt;2:30AM&lt;/st1:time&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yes I said AM!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Kohls opened first so I started there.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I waited in line to get in at Kohls, Toys R Us &amp;amp; Menards.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After that everyone was open.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I got everything on my list except for 1 thing &amp;amp; I was able to order that for the door buster price when I got home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I finally got home at &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="13"&gt;1:00&lt;/st1:time&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Did I get to nap?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Nope.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I started doing laundry &amp;amp; making dinner right away.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We always go out to dinner on Fridays too.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was so tired that I forgot it was Friday &amp;amp; I didn’t have to cook.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;By the time I realized it was Friday I had my roast almost done.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wouldn’t have been much fun at dinner anyway.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;By then I was getting really tired.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I made it until &lt;st1:time minute="30" hour="8"&gt;8:30&lt;/st1:time&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I crashed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It’s hard being everyone’s personal shopper.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;:0)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8619313517861952340?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8619313517861952340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8619313517861952340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8619313517861952340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8619313517861952340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/black-friday.html' title='Black Friday'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-8553839940528201513</id><published>2007-12-02T13:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T14:01:29.461-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm back</title><content type='html'>I have been without internet for a week.  It went down on a Monday &amp;amp; when I called the phone company to have them fix it they figured out that my DSL modem was dead.  I didn't get it back until late Friday night.  I really missed it.  You don't realize just how much you use it until it's not working.  The computer sits in the kitchen so it was constantly taunting me.  I usually have music playing from the internet &amp;amp; I couldn't even do that.  Not sure how my ancestors lived without it.  I'm not sure how I survived growing up without it.  I use it for almost everything anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be back to my regular posting schedule on Monday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8553839940528201513?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8553839940528201513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8553839940528201513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8553839940528201513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8553839940528201513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m back'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3857305264731077426</id><published>2007-11-22T09:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T09:31:56.078-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY THANKSGIVING!</title><content type='html'>Happy Thanksgiving everyone! &lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone has at least one thing to be thankful for this year.  For the Princess it's Scrapbooking.  For me it's my family &amp;amp; our health.  You know you're getting old when you are thankful for your family &amp;amp; health.  Not exactly sure when &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;THAT&lt;/span&gt; happened.  I used to be thankful for fun stuff.  Like a new sweater or some other article of clothing that I managed to snag on sale.  But now that I'm old, I mean now that I'm a Mom I'm thankful for every healthy day we have &amp;amp; the fact that we are all together &amp;amp; safe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Thanksgiving I hope you are all able to eat til you can't move.  I know I'm gonna do that.  And we get to eat a really large meal twice! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to get all my flyers together &amp;amp; plan my Black Friday strategy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yea, &amp;amp; this year I'm gonna be thankful for scrapbooking too.  :0)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3857305264731077426?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3857305264731077426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3857305264731077426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3857305264731077426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3857305264731077426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/11/happy-thanksgiving.html' title='HAPPY THANKSGIVING!'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-595888533977106979</id><published>2007-11-21T08:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T08:42:21.384-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad weather vs shopping</title><content type='html'>We have snow coming.  It's the first snow of the season &amp;amp; it is all over the news.  You would think this kind of thing never happens from all the publicity it's getting.  Because Pookie plows snow &amp;amp; is on call all winter we pay a lot of attention to the weather channel around here.  If it's gonna snow we know he won't be home.  When it's really bad we don't see him for days.  Then when he does come home all he does is sleep.  Plowing snow for hours at a time is hard work &amp;amp; you can't sleep while you are doing it.  That's what he tells me anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go to WalMart today.  Because the snow is coming I'm sure WalMart will be packed.  People will be trying to get all their shopping done before the snow comes.  I know that' s what I'm gonna do.   I hate the cold sloppy weather that winter brings.  Nothing is more fun then trying to push a full shopping cart through a sloppy nasty parking lot.  I really should move someplace warm but then I would have to deal with more bugs.  I don't do bugs.  Especially big bugs.  So I either stay here &amp;amp; freeze or move &amp;amp; be warm but deal with big bugs.  What to do, what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This nasty weather is gonna mess up travel plans for a lot of people.  Lucky for us we don't have to travel very far on Thanksgiving.  Only about 20 miles.  At lest we don't have to fly anywhere.  The airports are a mess with all kinds of delays.  That really brings out the thankfulness in you doesn't it?  Glad I'm not going to be stuck in an airport for Thanksgiving.  No one plans on that but you know it will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope all the nasty weather doesn't mess up my plans for Black Friday.  As much as I hate cold &amp;amp; snow, I love Black Friday more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither rain nor snow nor black of night will keep me from shopping on Black Friday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-595888533977106979?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/595888533977106979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=595888533977106979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/595888533977106979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/595888533977106979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/11/bad-weather-vs-shopping.html' title='Bad weather vs shopping'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-6664244612697917580</id><published>2007-11-20T12:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T13:17:50.834-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm thankful for......</title><content type='html'>It's almost thanksgiving.  I remember when we used to go around the table &amp;amp; say what we were thankful for.  It was always health or family.  Not real original, but so true. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Spike was in preschool they always asked each child what they were thankful for &amp;amp; then they put it all the answers next to the kids name on  really cute(suitable for hanging)paper.  Like adults most of their answers were family related. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thankful for my Mom/Dad/Grandma/grandpa, ect.  One answer stood out.  I can't remember the little girls name but I do remember what she was thankful for.  Pretty shoes.  She was thankful for pretty shoes.  It was the best answer on the whole page.  And the most memorable too.  I still remember her answer 14 years later.  Spike &amp;amp; Queenie got the same things but I can't remember any of the answers on their papers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I asked the Princess what she was thankful for &amp;amp; she said Scrapbooking.  You know what?  I'm thankful for scrapbooking too.  I went to a crop the other night &amp;amp; I had a blast. I'm grateful that I can do that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Thursday please be thankful for your health &amp;amp; family but don't be afraid to be thankful for pretty shoes &amp;amp; scrapbooking too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-6664244612697917580?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/6664244612697917580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=6664244612697917580' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6664244612697917580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6664244612697917580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-thankful-for.html' title='I&apos;m thankful for......'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-653945904083444895</id><published>2007-11-19T12:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T13:15:42.291-06:00</updated><title type='text'>shopping alone</title><content type='html'>Black Friday is coming!  Black Friday is coming!  Oops I meant to say, Thanksgiving is coming.  Aren't you excited?  To me Thanksgiving means spending time with family.  All the women get together &amp;amp; pour over the Black Friday ads.  We spend quality time together deciding who is gonna get up at what time to get the best deal.  I love getting up at before the crack of dawn to shop.  Any other day of the week I would only get up at that time because I had to pee.   I don't care if I get any good deals that day.  I get to go shopping ALONE!  Without kids!  I tried taking Queenie 2 years ago.  She didn't have as much fun as I did.  She doesn't do morning well.  Especially that time of morning.    When I asked her if she wanted to go this year she said no.   Oh well I'll just have to suck it up &amp;amp; go alone.  **grin** &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually meet up with one of my Sister-in-laws for a snack at some point.  We go over our lists to see if either of us got a great deal.  Last year the best deal I got was for me.  I went to Michaels  (because I was alone) &amp;amp; I looked in their clearance isle.  I had been looking at the Crop in Style P3 rolling tote.  It was retailing for around $130.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HxNsDsHAAb8/R0Hf1g4fu-I/AAAAAAAAACE/cuqXF1FRXjw/s1600-h/base_media.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HxNsDsHAAb8/R0Hf1g4fu-I/AAAAAAAAACE/cuqXF1FRXjw/s400/base_media.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134631160632032226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found it on clearance!  And with the turkey bucks they had going (because I was there at an obscene time of the morning) I got it for around $60.00.  That was my best deal.  I love it when I get all the good stuff!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pookie just doesn't understand why I will get up at the crack of dawn to shop.  Especially when I don't come home with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;EVERYONE&lt;/span&gt; on the list done.  No matter how many times I explain it he just doesn't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I GET TO GO ALONE!  That's why I do it.  :0)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-653945904083444895?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/653945904083444895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=653945904083444895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/653945904083444895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/653945904083444895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/11/shopping-alone.html' title='shopping alone'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_HxNsDsHAAb8/R0Hf1g4fu-I/AAAAAAAAACE/cuqXF1FRXjw/s72-c/base_media.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-6282842668080211814</id><published>2007-11-16T09:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T09:43:04.721-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's official.  It's Winter</title><content type='html'>It's cold.  Now I remember why I hate Winter.  Carseats.  Yep, that's why.  Yesterday the Princess wore her winter coat to school.  I got her in the carseat &amp;amp; started to buckle her up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;: Mom, I can't breathe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mom&lt;/span&gt;: Hang on, it's not far to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I really say that out loud?  I really gotta work on thinking before I talk.  What if DCFS was just around the corner &amp;amp; heard me? I gotta be careful.  This could get ugly.  (If they showed up right now they would see the Princess running through the house naked wearing a Princess cape &amp;amp; carrying a feather duster &amp;amp; a magic wand.  She is hunting for a skunk.  Well..... what do you wear when you go skunk hunting?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously I was having a hard time trying to buckle her into her seat.  She is bigger this year &amp;amp; with a poofy winter coat on it is almost impossible to get her in the seat so she can still breathe.  Breathing is overrated isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;I am going to have to take the darn seat out of The Tank(I HATE doing that) &amp;amp; see if there is any way I can lengthen the straps.  If I can't find any way to do that I'm going to have to switch her to a booster seat.  She is old enough &amp;amp; weighs enough but I wasn't going to do it until she out grew this seat.  That time is coming.  What a good time too.  With Christmas coming I have that never ending supply of money.  Ha, I wish.  I should of planted a money tree when I was little.  It would be really big by now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did the only thing I could to get my kid to school still breathing. I took off her coat &amp;amp; buckled her into the seat.  After all The Tank is in the garage so it's sorta warm.  I put a blanket over her &amp;amp; drove to school.  I just put her coat on before getting out of The Tank.  I'm gonna have to work on this problem though.  I don't think it's going to go away.  I think she is gonna get bigger.  Although it's not a guarantee, but my other kids grew.  In fact Smitty is about 6 feet.  So it's  probably a given that she will grow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going out to The Tank to wrestle with that darn carseat.  If I don't post in the next few days, it was nice knowing ya.  The carseat won.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-6282842668080211814?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/6282842668080211814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=6282842668080211814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6282842668080211814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6282842668080211814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/11/its-official-its-winter.html' title='It&apos;s official.  It&apos;s Winter'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-8914559087801666400</id><published>2007-11-13T09:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T10:01:48.937-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not the "Cool Aunt" any more</title><content type='html'>While at my niece's baby shower this weekend it was brought to my attention by a sister-in-law(close to my age) that we are no longer the "Cool Aunts".  We used to be the ones making the cute counted cross stitch wall hangings for all the babies &amp;amp; weddings.  The torch has been passed.   Now we are now shopping at WalMart along with everyone else.  We don't have the time or energy to make the counted cross stitch any more.   We used to never travel anywhere with out a project.  All enclosed in it's cute little quilted zippered case of course. Back when we were all first married most of our friends &amp;amp; family played on the church softball teams.  Most of them played on 2 teams which meant ball twice a week.  No one had any kids yet but we all cross stitched.  The husbands played ball &amp;amp; the wives all sat &amp;amp; watched them while we cross stitched.  That's when we were the "Cool Aunts".  We had the time to make all kinds of stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to get back into crafts.  But with a 3 year old it's hard to find the time to  do it when she isn't up.  It doesn't seem to matter how quiet I am getting it out.  She seems to smell it &amp;amp; come running.    I did manage to sew 3 burp cloths for my niece's baby shower.  It only took 1 nap time to do it.    I also want to make a quilt &amp;amp; a few other things.  I guess I will have to muddle through them 1 nap at a time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that I don't sew well could pose a problem but I do have about 42 naps before Christmas so I could actually pull it off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8914559087801666400?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8914559087801666400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8914559087801666400' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8914559087801666400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8914559087801666400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-not-cool-aunt-any-more.html' title='I&apos;m not the &quot;Cool Aunt&quot; any more'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-6075700540014275377</id><published>2007-11-11T19:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T20:46:44.892-06:00</updated><title type='text'>44 days til Christmas</title><content type='html'>Christmas is coming!!  Do your have your kids Christmas lists yet?  I don't.  I get a new toy catalog almost everyday in the mail.  I save them all.  They tend to keep the Princess busy when I need to get stuff done.  And there is always stuff to be done around here.   So far she wants &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;EVERYTHING&lt;/span&gt;.  Not really a problem for her.  She thinks Santa is great &amp;amp; can bring her anything she wants.   I am having a hard time getting Chirstmas ideas out of my kids now that they are older.  The Princess is no problem.  It's the older ones that I am having a problem with.  Pookie actually gave me an idea yesterday so I went &amp;amp; got it right away.  I NEVER get good ideas for him so I had to get it right away so I wouldn't forget it.  Now if I can only remember that I have it when it's wrapping time.............. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had lunch at Olive Garden yesterday.  I had  never eaten there before.  It was yummy.  I love the bread sticks.  I could of made a meal of just those.  I have a good friend who is moving to another state far away from me.  This was a goodbye lunch.  We all had a good time chatting &amp;amp; eating.  One thing women are good at is yacking up a blue streak.  Lunch was at 12:30 so I wrote on the calendar that it was at noon.  That meant I could leave the house earlier.  **grin**  It was about a 1/2 hour drive.  I got there is plenty of time to hit the mall &amp;amp; get Pookie's gift.  We didn't leave until around 3:15.   I was in no hurry to get home.  I was kidless!  On the way home I decided that I would hit JoAnn Fabrics.  After all I was alone.  But I forgot about my sense of direction.  Or lack of it.  I don't have one at all.  How hard could it be to find JoAnn's?  So I drove.  And drove And drove.  I was thinking that I should be seeing it soon.  Then I saw my turn off for home.  I missed it. I guess I zigged when I should of zagged.   How sad is that?  I was really looking forward to a shopping trip ALONE.  I don't get those very often.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; One thing I love about Christmas is all the shopping that I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;HAVE&lt;/span&gt; to do.  I am one of those people who LOVES to get up at the crack of dawn &amp;amp; go shopping on Black Friday.  I think I like it so much because I go alone.  I took Queenie with me 2 years ago &amp;amp; she said never again.   She doesn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;DO&lt;/span&gt; 4:00 am.   I have a lot of people on my list &amp;amp; I like to get started as soon as I can.  If it means I have to get up at 4:00 am so I can shop alone then that's what I do.  I gotta get my alone time when ever I can. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year I have gotten crafty.  I am actually making a few gifts.  I have a big project that I want to do.  I want to make a quilt.  We'll see how that goes.  A lot of  time I have great ideas(usually while in the shower) but they never pan out.     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight the Princess is going to bed early because she didn't get a nap.  I might actually get some crafty stuff done tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll miss you Celina.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-6075700540014275377?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/6075700540014275377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=6075700540014275377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6075700540014275377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6075700540014275377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/11/44-days-til-christmas.html' title='44 days til Christmas'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3322858810043644272</id><published>2007-11-09T08:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T08:58:08.999-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Vacation</title><content type='html'>My loving hubby has taken a few days off from work.  I hate it when he does that!  It really messed up my schedule.  I mean how can I lay around on the couch in my robe all day eating Bon Bons?  It just loses the effect when you have your darling hubby in full hover mode over the couch saying things like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are ya gonna do this all day?&lt;/span&gt;  Duh, this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; what I do all day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Can I have the clicker?&lt;/span&gt;  No way.  Touch it &amp;amp; die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aren't you going to feed the kids lunch?&lt;/span&gt;  No, they can snack on what ever they can reach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Can I have a Bon Bon?  &lt;/span&gt;This question could get your arm taken off. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Seriously the kids have a few days off because of Conferences &amp;amp; don't go back until  next Tuesday.   Pookie goes on call very soon so we thought we would go to the Dells for 1 night &amp;amp; stay in a fun hotel with a water park.  Sounds like a great plan right?  We thought so too.  It was decided that Thursday was the only day we could go.  I have things going on over the weekend that I can't miss &amp;amp; I   had all the conferences  scheduled for Wednesday night.  We were good to go.  Then the kids messed it up.  Gotta love 'em.  Queenie joined an after school club.  Their first Bowling meeting was last Wednesday.  I thought nothing of it.  She came home &amp;amp; told us they were meeting next Thursday.  It still doesn't click.  I may have lost a few brain cells over the years.  Kids will do that to you.  Then over the weekend I am sitting in front of the  computer trying to pick a good hotel (within our budget that will still be fun), &amp;amp; that's when it hits me.  CRAP!  We can't go, Queenie has bowling that night.  Now I know you are thinking why not have her miss it.  Well we thought of that but since this was only the second meeting &amp;amp; they are just starting to get it going we didn't want her to miss it.  Another fun thing ruined by one of my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday &amp;amp; I know it's a huge possibility that I'll be old &amp;amp; gray, I'm going to go on vacation when I want to.  It's getting  old planning my vacations around the kids schedules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know, I should of realized this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;BEFORE&lt;/span&gt; I had 4 kids.  But no one told me they were gonna mess up my VACATION SCEDULE.  I might of had 2nd thoughts then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3322858810043644272?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3322858810043644272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3322858810043644272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3322858810043644272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3322858810043644272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-loving-hubby-has-taken-few-days-off.html' title='My Vacation'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3867514163183478423</id><published>2007-11-01T12:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T14:25:00.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night was Halloween.  The Princess went as herself.  A Princess.  Very original don't ya think?  But having her go as herself in her royal gown meant I didn't have to buy anything for her to wear.  We had it all.  After all you never know when the occasion will arise &amp;amp; you need to meet your adoring public.  It helps to have the appropriate Royal Wear on hand.  We walked with friends around the block &amp;amp; then we were done.   It was cold!  She would of done more but her little hands were like ice cubes &amp;amp; her Mother(what was she thinking?) didn't give her any mittens. They didn't go with the outfit.   She was content to answer the door with Spike.   Between Bailey the Wonder Dog &amp;amp; the Princess we always knew way ahead of time when a Trick or Treater was coming up our walk.  She would start to yell &amp;amp; then the dog would bark.  The dog should have a sore throat from all the barking she did last night.  It's important to bark &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;EVERY TIME&lt;/span&gt; someone rings the doorbell.   Even if there is only a few seconds between rings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queenie had to make a bumper sticker for school.  Of course it was due the next day.  Since I scrapbook we have all kinds of stuff to work with.  Good thing too.  I love it when they thrust a "due tomorrow project" in your face after dinner.  I haven't scrapped in months.  There just hasn't been time.  Plus the Princess is not fun when I get all the stuff out.  It's like Christmas for her.  So much stuff to get into, so little time.   We got out all my stuff after dinner was cleaned up &amp;amp; the Princess was busy playing in her room.  We were very quiet getting everything out but I think she smelled it.  She came out as soon as I got the first wheelie tote in the kitchen.  After that she was a HUGE pain.  Into EVERYTHING.  Nothing was safe.  I finally gave her some markers to play with.  Really stupid move on my part.  I was thinking that she would just color nicely while we worked on the bumper sticker.  WRONG!  She colored everywhere but on the paper.  Her legs, arms, face, table &amp;amp; yes the kitchen floor.  Well the floor was sort of an accident.  While trying to pick up a bunch of markers she dropped on the floor, it got colored on. &lt;br /&gt;Where was I during her little "artist moment" you ask?  Well I was sitting right next to her trying to pick individual letters off a stack of letters.  Those little suckers did not want to come off without ripping.  My conversation with the Princess went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: (finally pealing off a "D" without it ripping.)  Princess stop coloring on your arms.  Only on the paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;:  Ok Mommy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: (Trying to find a red "U".)  Please put all the lids back on the markers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;: But Mom they are my finger nails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Wonderful but now your hands are all covered with marker.  Please put the lids back on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;:  Can I color on the table? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Note&lt;/span&gt;:  When they ask this it is already to late&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: no you may not.  Crap you already did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess&lt;/span&gt;: Crap Mommy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: What I meant was , oh no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you get the idea.  It wasn't a pretty picture.  And is spite of all the "Helping" the Princess did I realized how much I miss scrap booking.  I am actually going to a crop with a friend this month.  I'm excited.  I really liked getting out all the stuff &amp;amp; playing with it even if it was for a school project. &lt;br /&gt;Some day I am going to have all my pictures in a scrapbook.  And not the "awful, dangerous" magnetic one either.  I am going to take all my pictures out of those horrible albums &amp;amp; put them in acid free ones.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And some day I'll be rich too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3867514163183478423?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3867514163183478423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3867514163183478423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3867514163183478423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3867514163183478423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/11/last-night-was-halloween.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-7779065212897907077</id><published>2007-10-29T13:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T14:32:20.782-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's offical, she is old(er)</title><content type='html'>It's over.  We had Queenie's birthday party over the weekend.  It's official.  She is now 16.  Scary really if you think about it.  Now if I tell her she can't do something I'm sure to get,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But Mom, I'm 16!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can hear it now.  I can't wait til she gets her license, it will get worse I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in case you were wondering what people give as a gift to a 16 year old, it's money.  They don't want anything that is not cheap any more.  They have moved up to the expensive gift phase.  Unfortunately this phase never goes away.  We got her a letter jacket.  I was very impressed with myself.  She mentioned that she wanted one AND I remembered.  Then I went to order it without having her try it on.  This was scary.  What if I got the size wrong?  I tried on 2 sizes &amp;amp; picked one hoping for the best.  We are close to the same size so that helps.  The jackets are in stock but they send them out to have the stuff sewn on.  Like your school patch &amp;amp; any letters or numbers you might have.  Queenie earned her numbers last year but of course I couldn't find them so I just had the school thingie sewn on.  You can also have their name embroidered on.  I didn't do that yet.&lt;br /&gt;Getting a letter jacket is so different now. I got mine in the  late 70's.  I bought the jacket &amp;amp; the school patch &amp;amp; sewed them on myself.  Now they send them out to do it.  It does look much better though.  They are A LOT more expensive too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She loved the jacket, was very surprised AND it fit!  Score 1 for Mom!  I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do it it didn't fit.  I have no idea if they exchange them or not.  I already had stuff sewn on it too.  But thankfully I didn't have to worry about it.   This will also be her winter coat.  So I killed 2 birds with 1 stone.  Yea me.  Hopefully she will be able to wear this for 3 years.  Which means I don't have to worry about buying her a winter coat for 3 years.  At least that is my plan.  Hers might be different.  But I hope not.  For the amount that I spent on this jacket she should wear it the rest of her life!  I took it back today to have it sent out AGAIN.  This time they are going to put her name on it.  I didn't do it before because it wasn't sure where she wanted her name to be.  You can have it small on the front or big on the hood.  She picked hood.  Hopefully it won't get really cold &amp;amp; snow before I get it back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scored really big with the birthday gift. Now I have absolutely no idea what to get her for Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-7779065212897907077?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/7779065212897907077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=7779065212897907077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/7779065212897907077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/7779065212897907077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/its-over.html' title='It&apos;s offical, she is old(er)'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-567080959217037561</id><published>2007-10-25T16:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T22:29:10.875-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom I have to pee</title><content type='html'>The Princess went on her first field trip today.  I don't know what part she was more excited about.  The actual trip to the Pumpkin Patch or the ride on the school bus.  I was just excited that she was going to be gone from 9:45 til noon.  Is that a bad thing?  I had an appointment to get my hair colored &amp;amp; I was very excited about that.  I had the multi colored look going which really isn't a good look for me.  Brown &amp;amp; gray( more gray then brown because I've waited so long) just isn't the look I was going for.    Because I don't work OUTSIDE the house(I work my tail off INSIDE the house) I don't keep up my hair maintenance like I should.  I think if I had a job where people actually cared what I looked like I would do it more often.  My kids could care less what I look like, unless I am out in public with them.  Most of the time they are just fine with my multi colored two tone hair.  All they care about is do we have any food in the house.  Not just any food but the "good stuff" like Ho Ho's, cookies, you know, good food.  Did I wash their favorite pants &amp;amp; what's for dinner.   One of my lovely children actually told their father that I didn't do anything all day but clean &amp;amp; do laundry.   Good to know I'm appreciated isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hair was done in plenty of time.  I even had time to chat with a big person.  All by myself too!  That doesn't happen very often.  Usually my conversation with a big person goes something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Hi, how are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Them&lt;/span&gt;: Great!  It's been a long time since I've seen you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Princess&lt;/span&gt;:  Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: shhh, Just a minute, Mommy's talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Them&lt;/span&gt;: Wow, she is getting big.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Yes she is, she goes to school now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the Princess&lt;/span&gt;: I'm a big girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Them&lt;/span&gt;:  Yes you are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Princess&lt;/span&gt;:  Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Shhh, Mommy's talking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Princess&lt;/span&gt;:(spoken at the top of her lungs)  But I have to make poop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Nice seeing you, gotta run!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost every big people conversation that I have gets killed because my kid has to poop or pee.  That is a real conversation killer right there.  It's also something that can't wait.  By the time they announce that they have to go, it's almost to late.  Then you have to make the mad dash to the potty which is always as far away from you as it can get.&lt;br /&gt;When Smitty was potty training we were remodeling our house &amp;amp; were always in Wolahan's.  Smitty loved that place because they gave you popcorn when you came in.  I hated shopping there because EVERY TIME  we went in there he had to go potty.  But he had awesome timing.  The bathrooms were in the middle of the store AND they were locked.  Who locks bathrooms?    He would wait until we were as far away from them as we could get then he would announce that he had to go.  Then I had to make the mad dash to the front of the store to get the key(usually attached to a HUGE piece of wood) and pray that I could get the key, make it to the bathrooms, unlock them &amp;amp; get him to the potty before it was too late. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoever decided to lock  the bathrooms in stores obviously didn't have kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-567080959217037561?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/567080959217037561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=567080959217037561' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/567080959217037561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/567080959217037561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/mom-i-have-to-pee.html' title='Mom I have to pee'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-5892737398044630335</id><published>2007-10-24T12:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T16:31:30.159-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Terrorists got nothin' on Mom's</title><content type='html'>I watched an episode of Law &amp;amp; Order SVU last night.  At least I think it was last night.  This week has kind of been a blur.  Anyway it was about how they used torture to get info out of people.  I got to thinkin' about that.  The terrorists got nothin' on a Mom.  Mom's perform &amp;amp; receive torture every day.  We have all heard these lovely words come out of our kids mouth.  "Your gonna make me do/eat/wear that?  This is torture!  Here are some forms of torture that have been known to work with kids.  You new Mom's might want to print these out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Make them eat ALL of their dinner.  Even the 10 spoonfuls of cottage cheese THEY       insisted they wanted AND put on their own plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Insist they take a shower/bath, even if they already took one this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  No you are not wearing the dogs collar to school even if everyone else is doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Make them walk to school.  After all we had to do it &amp;amp; it was 5 miles &amp;amp;  uphill both ways, remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Pick out your clothes AND make your lunch BEFORE going to bed, not 5 minutes before you have to leave for school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Make them turn down the volume of the music so that only they can hear it.  The entire neighborhood doesn't want to listen to that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  They should carry their dirty clothes all the way to hamper, which in our case is right outside her door.   But apparently it's too far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  Make them go to bed a a decent hour.  This is a goodie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  Wear a winter coat in the winter &amp;amp; shorts in the summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  And lastly my favorite.  Get up when your alarm goes off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These 10 things are guaranteed to torture your child.  AND the best part is that you can't get arrested for this type of torture.  It sneaks in just under the law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some forms of torture that us Moms go though everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Eating most meals cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Making sure the kids are dressed for the weather but forgetting to put on your own winter coat/boots/shoes.  I have been known to go out in slippers because I was so busy dressing kids that I forgot to put my own shoes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Going without a shower because there just isn't time for one today.  Having this happen several days is in a row is a bad thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Knowing exactly what time Clifford/Dora/Blues Clues comes on but having no idea what time your favorite show starts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Going without because one of your kids or the husband needs something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Pushing  a 5lb-10lb(or more) baby out of a hole the size of a pea.  nuf' said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  Carrying 1 toddler, 7 bags of groceries &amp;amp; 2 gallons of milk into the house at one time because you only want to make 1 trip and you KNOW you aren't gonna get any help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  Showering with 1 or more kids.  When was the last time your loving husband took a shower with a kid?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.   Never going to the bathroom alone.  Or if you do manage to get in there alone you get a kid pounding on the door yelling,"Mom what are you doing in there?"  "Can I come in"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  Having to hide in the laundry room  with the door shut &amp;amp; the light off just so you can be alone for a few seconds before they find you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.  Going through every kids name, the husband &amp;amp; the dog before you get to the right one you are yelling at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The list goes on &amp;amp; on.  These are just a few.  Remember &amp;amp; enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna go hide in the laundry room for a  few minutes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-5892737398044630335?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/5892737398044630335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=5892737398044630335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5892737398044630335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5892737398044630335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-watched-episode-of-law-order-svu-last.html' title='Terrorists got nothin&apos; on Mom&apos;s'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3792757579148202641</id><published>2007-10-23T15:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T15:50:49.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Queenie will be 16 in a few days.  I'm not quite sure how it happened.  One day I was giving her a bath in the tub with her brother &amp;amp; now she's turning 16 &amp;amp; driving.  And she won't take a bath with her brother any more either.  But that's a good thing!  At least she showers regularly.  For lots of kids showers are optional.  So is changing clothes.  I still have 1 kid who won't change clothes unless he is reminded.  I won't mention any names, ok Spike?  I wouldn't want to embarrass anyone.  Hehehe!  I don't have that problem with Queenie.  She can change clothes several times a day.  And when she takes them off she wads them up nicely &amp;amp; tosses them in a pile on the floor.  This pile then gets walked on for about a week or until she runs out of clothes.  Then she tosses &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;EVERYTHING&lt;/span&gt; in the hamper  Everything on the floor is dirty whether it has worn for 2 seconds or not.  Face it, it has been walked on all week.  It must to be dirty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just e-mailed the family about the party.  I love it that I can contact almost everyone in the family by e-mail.  The only ones I can't get are the parents.  I don't think they are going to get a computer just so I can e-mail them.  They like it when you call them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I always have a problem when planning birthday parties for my kids.  If I have 1 party, it's a biggie.  44 people if everyone shows up.  But then it's done &amp;amp; I only have to make the house "party clean" once.  If I do 2 parties.  One for my family &amp;amp; then one for the other side I have to have the house "party clean" twice.  Having a clean house is not a bad thing at all.  I actually like it when it's "party clean".  That usually only lasts for a day or 2 around here.  Sad really.  Then I have to decide whether or not to feed everyone an actual  meal or just cake.  Do I have it in the afternoon or evening?  If I have it too early in the afternoon then the Princess doesn't get a nap.  Not a good thing.  If I do it late in the afternoon then we end up eating cake for dinner.  That's not always a bad thing.  I love cake.  But when you are 3 you shouldn't eat cake for dinner because that will be the time the teacher asks you to announce to the class what you had for dinner last night.  Cake is not the appropriate answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is way to stressful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what it boiled down to is we are having 1 family party &amp;amp; I am feeding them a meal.  It will start around 3ish so the Princess will at least get a little nap.  Now all I have left to do is let my cook know the menu that I have decided on &amp;amp; tell my maid that the house &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;MUST&lt;/span&gt; be squeaky clean by Sunday.  *sigh*  I forgot.   I had to downsize.   I let them go.  Guess it's up to me to do all the work.  Why is it always me?  Oh I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm the Mom, that's why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3792757579148202641?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3792757579148202641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3792757579148202641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3792757579148202641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3792757579148202641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/queenie-will-be-16-in-few-days.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-6658507028688835983</id><published>2007-10-22T12:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T13:30:11.997-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bailey the Wonder Dog strikes again</title><content type='html'>The Princess was sick last week.  guess who has it now?  Yep, me.  It's a doozy too.  Snotty nose, sore throat, the works.   Nothing like trying to function while sick.  Cause all Mom's know we don't get to go to bed &amp;amp; get better.  We have to suck it up &amp;amp; trudge on.  Any other members of our family get to go to bed when they are sick.  There is a unwritten rule somewhere that says that Mom's have to work while sick.  I would really like to know who wrote that rule.  I bet it was a guy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bailey the Wonder Dog has been at it again.  This morning the Princess &amp;amp; I had a few errands to run.  Since the dog was passed out on the couch downstairs I left her there.  Big mistake.  I walked up the stairs &amp;amp; the Princess says, "I hope Bail didn't eat anything."  Can you tell it happens a lot?  As I come up the stairs I notice a big brown spot on the carpet.   Crap!  I know she ate something but at this point I'm not exactly sure  what.  I did take a roast out of the freezer this morning &amp;amp; put it in the sink.  I was praying that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WAS NOT&lt;/span&gt; what she ate.  As I move into the living room I notice another large brown spot on the carpet.  This one has brown powder in it.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What did she eat?  &lt;/span&gt;And there is was....... the 10 lb family size can of Swiss Miss Hot Chocolate.  Well maybe it wasn't 10 lbs, but it was the big one.   She didn't eat the whole can either.  She left me some.  Wasn't that nice of her?  The kids wouldn't notice if I put the dry stuff in another container &amp;amp; told them it was hot chocolate.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;**Insert evil laugh here**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did the proper thing &amp;amp; threw it out,  all of it.  Now I have to try &amp;amp; figure out how to get brown stains out of "not brown" carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The darn dog has been very busy lately.  Thursday when I went to pick up the Princess from school she ate quite a few crayons.    Yum.  When I picked up all her "treasure" from the yard on Friday I noticed quite a few piles were sprinkled with pretty colors.    On Saturday Pookie brought home a dozen long john donuts.  We ate a few out of the box.  A few hours later I noticed that the box wasn't all the way shut &amp;amp; went to close it.  Nothing in it.  She was very neat about eating them though.  She left the box on the table so we didn't even think she did it.  The box was licked clean.  Not even my kids do that.    Eating that many donuts gives the dog diarrhea, don't ask how I know.  Ever try picking pudding up out of the yard?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think whenever we leave the house the dog is going to have to be crated.  She has proven that she can't be trusted.  I'm starting to worry that she will eat the couch next.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-6658507028688835983?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/6658507028688835983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=6658507028688835983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6658507028688835983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6658507028688835983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/bailey-wonder-dog-strikes-again.html' title='Bailey the Wonder Dog strikes again'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3563393639965870396</id><published>2007-10-19T13:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T13:31:25.839-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye Optimus Prime</title><content type='html'>My beloved grand child Optimus Prime went back to school yesterday morning. I miss him terribly. I did get pictures though. If I could figure out how to post them here I could show you just how cute &amp;amp; plastic he looks.  Ok I think I added a picture.  Yea me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HxNsDsHAAb8/Rxj4dgXvX7I/AAAAAAAAAAk/jHmdHo0c0c4/s1600-h/Optimus+Prime.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HxNsDsHAAb8/Rxj4dgXvX7I/AAAAAAAAAAk/jHmdHo0c0c4/s320/Optimus+Prime.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123117761923342258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OPTIMUS PRIME&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I tried to fix an ongoing problem that I have been having with my e-mail.  I can e-mail anyone but my school district.   For some reason they are not receiving any e-mail from me.  It isn't just me either.  It is other people with the sbcglobal.net e-mail.  Our District's Tech Dept says that it is on my end.  Because I NEED to be able to contact the teachers by e-mail(way easier then the phone) I decide to see what I can do to fix it.  It's gonna be  harder then I thought.  First I try to go to the yahoo website &amp;amp; do a live chat.  That guy was useless.  He had no idea what I was talking about &amp;amp; kept asking me the same question over &amp;amp; over.  Hung up on him.&lt;br /&gt;Then I called the AT&amp;amp;T Internet Service number.  This guy tells me that it on the District's end &amp;amp; that they have me blocked.  Told him several times they didn't.  I don't think he believed me.   He passed me off to Yahoo Tech support.  They told me it was AT&amp;amp;T's problem &amp;amp; promptly  passed me back.  Now I'm getting dizzy from all the flying around I'm doing.&lt;br /&gt;The next guy says that he will try to get a 2nd level tech support guy to talk to me but he needs to get approval first.  I am on hold for at least 10 minutes &amp;amp; he comes back &amp;amp; says 2nd level can't help.    Apparently this is not a important enough problem for them.   Then he tells me to see if I can receive e-mail from the school.  I hang up &amp;amp; call my contact person at the school, get proof that I can receive but not send &amp;amp; call them back,  praying that I will get someone that I can understand.  I have a hard time understanding people who have thick accents.   And lets face it, most of the people who answer phones anywhere I happen to call have thick accents.  It's just my cross to bear.  I get lucky &amp;amp; get a nice woman who understands what I am talking about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;AND&lt;/span&gt; I can understand her. She is very helpful &amp;amp; once again tries to get me 2nd level tech support.  It worked this time.  Tonya was very helpful.  Although my problem did not get fixed she at least figured out where the problem was &amp;amp; it was not MY fault.  It is with our districts provider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on a "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mission from God&lt;/span&gt;" to get this fixed.  It got personal after the 3rd person I talked to couldn't figure it out.  It only took 7 people to figure it out &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;AND&lt;/span&gt; I spend most of my day on the phone.  Of course I had nothing else to do.  House is squeaky clean, no laundry pile taking on a life of it's own, no dishwasher to load.  None of that stuff.  HA!  While I just sat on my rear in front of the computer playing solitaire the house just fell apart around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when that happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3563393639965870396?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3563393639965870396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3563393639965870396' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3563393639965870396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3563393639965870396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-beloved-grand-child-optimus-prime.html' title='Goodbye Optimus Prime'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HxNsDsHAAb8/Rxj4dgXvX7I/AAAAAAAAAAk/jHmdHo0c0c4/s72-c/Optimus+Prime.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-2813131920593048444</id><published>2007-10-17T14:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T15:27:44.604-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a Grandma!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday Spike made me a Grandma to a 10lb plastic computer baby.  My "Grandchild" will be a guest in our home til Friday.  The baby is designed to help stop teen pregnancy.  All my kids have had one.  And so far none of them are parents so it must be working.  We did have a VERY hard time convincing the Princess that it wasn't her baby.  She just was not buying the fact that it was Spike's.     When you get the baby it comes with a car seat &amp;amp; a diaper bag.  You must change clothes &amp;amp; keep a record of when you do it.  Good thing I didn't have to write down every time I changed one of the babies clothes.  Sometimes I just got a clean outfit on &amp;amp; I had to change them again.  There just wasn't time to write anything down.    This baby is an older model.  They have new ones but I have been informed that the girls got those.  The new ones come with a bottle(with a computer chip in it) &amp;amp; 2 diapers that are chipped too.  So they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;KNOW&lt;/span&gt; if you change the diapers. I thought the new babies sounded like more fun.   The old babies have keys that they attach to your wrist with a hospital like bracelet.  When Smitty did it he was not in a sport at the time so he could not remove the key from his wrist so someone else could babysit.  Spike is in a sport so his bracelet slips off so someone else can watch it.  When the baby cries you have to put the key in its back &amp;amp; hold it there(literally) until it laughs.  Then you can take it out.  You never know how long it will take either.   Smitty had to do all the baby care on his own because he couldn't take the key off.  This meant showering with the baby sitting on the toilet.  And yes it did cry while he was in there.  So he had to get out dripping wet &amp;amp; put in the key.  He was not happy when he finally got to finish his shower.  I told him,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Welcome to my world"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have showered many times with a baby or 2 in the bathroom.  I also have showered with up to 2 kids in the shower with me.  Big fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot the most important thing.  He named him "OPTIMUS PRIME"&lt;br /&gt;I'm so proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FACT:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that a National Guardsman actually changed his name to Optimus Prime?  I found that out when I googled it this morning to find out how to spell it.  He legally changed his name on his 30th birthday &amp;amp; now it's on everything.  His driver's  license, his military ID &amp;amp; &amp;amp; his uniform.  Wouldn't you love to be his kids?  You could say, without lying, that your Dad is Optimus Prime!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-2813131920593048444?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/2813131920593048444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=2813131920593048444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2813131920593048444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2813131920593048444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-grandma.html' title='I&apos;m a Grandma!'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-1611650647814689517</id><published>2007-10-15T22:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T15:29:30.479-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy, I'm sick</title><content type='html'>The Princess is sick.  Not exactly sure what she has but she has something.  On Friday she puked a few times.  Once all over herself, me &amp;amp; several blankets &amp;amp; the second time in her car seat.   Two really good places to puke.  She hates to puke. It scares her.  It scares me too.  I don't know anyone who actually likes to do that.  Enough about puke.  Moving on.  On Saturday she was just fine.  You would never know she was sick the day before.  That's a kid for you.  They can bounce back like a super ball.  Remember those?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday because she wasn't sick I had to go, sorry I GOT to go watch Spike's football playoffs.    We drove 1 hour away so we could play against the other team from our town.  That made sense didn't it?  With all the parents/fans that went we probably spent about $1000.00 in gas getting there so we could watch our hometown teams battle it out for 3rd &amp;amp; 4th place.  We took 4th.  Granted it was at a nice field with a concession stand &amp;amp; everything, but I didn't need to drive all that way for popcorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night the Princess started to cough.  Not a good cough either.  It was the barking kind. That kind is never good.  I had a bad feeling about that cough.  Sunday she was not doing good, but took a good nap.  Sunday night she spent most of the night in my bed not sleeping.  On the plus side she woke up with a dry pull up.   At least there was 1 good thing about last night.  This morning I decide to call the Dr.  I have to wait until 9:00 to do it because I never have good luck leaving a message with the answering service.  I call at 9:00 &amp;amp; get the voice mail at the Pediatricians office.  Ya gotta love it.  They make it so hard to talk to a real person any more.   I left a message &amp;amp; then decided to harass them(I mean call) every half hour if I haven't heard from them by 9:30.   While I am on hold with the appointment desk(for the first time) my talking call waiting informs me that the Dr's office is calling.  Love call waiting.  Talking call waiting is even better cause I can decide if I want to answer the phone or not.  I chose to answer this one.  She got an appointment for 11:00 today.    The Dr. informs me that what she has is viral.  What that translates to is there is no good drugs for it.  We just have to tough it out &amp;amp; if she is not better in a few days call her.  Great.  And for the record today sucked.  All she did was cry &amp;amp; make me lay by her on the couch.  I felt awful.     She didn't nap either.  Poor thing.  I hope she has a good night.  I don't know if you caught the part about how she spent last night in my bed NOT sleeping.  That means I didn't sleep either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This not sleeping thing is just one of the perks of being a Mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-1611650647814689517?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/1611650647814689517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=1611650647814689517' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1611650647814689517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1611650647814689517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/princess-is-sick.html' title='Mommy, I&apos;m sick'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-8674161547441736088</id><published>2007-10-12T09:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T10:09:16.365-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Things</title><content type='html'>The Princess goes to Preschool 2 times a week.  Just like any other kid starting school we needed to get a few school supplies.  Lucky for me I had everything she needed.  When shopping for school supplies I always buy a lot of everything.  The same notebook that is .10 in July(when they start all the school supply sales) will be $2.99 in December.  I always buy in bulk.  Now the Preschool list is much shorter then a regular supply list.  We needed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 box of crayons&lt;br /&gt;1 pair of blunt scissors&lt;br /&gt;1 paint shirt&lt;br /&gt;1 box of Kleenix&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;EVERYTHING&lt;/span&gt; had to have her name on it.  Yep that meant all the crayons too.  Since I have done this 3 other times I knew just how to do it.  I use return address labels.  I have a lot of them because I am always getting them free in the mail from some organization or another.  I don't seem to use them that much any more either.  I do most things on the computer now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we get to school on her first day I take her supplies &amp;amp; put them in her cubby.  When I pick her up I notice all her supplies are back in her bag.  I told her she could leave them at school &amp;amp; her answer was "No I can't.  These are my things."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday I drop her off &amp;amp; put her "things" away again.  When picking her up there they are back in her bag again.  This time I go back in &amp;amp; put them away.  Then I get to listen to her cry all the way home because she misses her things.  Especially her scissors. &lt;br /&gt;She is now sobbing,"I need my my my scissors!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to explain to her that her things need to stay at school is like talking to a wall.  Or like talking to one of my other kids.  She is learning early.  I thought I actually had a shot with this one too.  Tuesday when I drop her off I put away her things yet again.  Pick up time rolls around &amp;amp; this time she only has the crayons in her bag.  Yea!  We might be getting somewhere.  Fast forward to Thursday pick up time &amp;amp; there they are again.  All her things are back in her bag.  She is having a really hard time leaving "Her things" there!  Separation anxiety?  Who knows. &lt;br /&gt;I tried having the other kids explain that they keep their things at school but she isn't buying it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So On Tuesday we will once again try to leave her "very special things" at school.  She just now informed me that she can't leave them at school because "They are very special to me Mom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonderful.  I have a kid with a school supply fetish.  I suppose it could be worse.  She likes school &amp;amp; is very happy to have me leave her there.  I have seen other Mom's peel their kids off their legs telling them they will have so much fun they won't even miss Mom.  Yea right.  At least she is not like that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8674161547441736088?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8674161547441736088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8674161547441736088' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8674161547441736088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8674161547441736088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-things.html' title='My Things'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-1626814458117825703</id><published>2007-10-10T09:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T11:35:42.810-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm back.  Did ya miss me?  We had a wonderful time camping.  Usually, I mean sometimes, nope what I really mean is ALWAYS when we go camping on Columbus Day Weekend it is cold.  I have never had to use the air conditioner.  Furnace yes, air no.  It was around 90° the whole weekend.  Which was great really.  But we always bring a lot of wood for camp fires.  We can't camp with out a HUGE fire.  It's just wrong.  We had 6 pickup trucks full of wood &amp;amp; our rule is to never bring any wood home.  If we brought it we have to burn it. Someone always brings something to sacrifice to the fire God.  This year it was me.  I brought 2 old kitchen chairs &amp;amp; a really old saw horse.   Usually we need the big fires for warmth but this year we just needed them for the ambiance. We seem to get bigger every year.  This year there were 7 trailers &amp;amp; 32 people.     Our circle around the fire was huge this time for 2 reasons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reason #1.  There were 32 people, duh!&lt;br /&gt;Reason #2.  It was too hot &amp;amp; we couldn't stand to be near it, but had to have a fire because we brought all that wood!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have certain things that we do every year while camping.  First we make a Jack-o-bob.  He is an old uniform stuffed with leaves.  His name is jack-o-bob because  the uniform has Bob's name on it &amp;amp; he has a pumpkin for a head.  He is a guest around the fire all weekend.  This year the Princess &amp;amp; a few other little ones got to make him.  Apparently the older kids are too big for this now.  They must of really grown up because they made him last year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also have a book exchange.  The women who go camping love to read.  We all bring our books that we have already read &amp;amp; put them out on a picnic table.  This year we had 2 picnic tables.  We all go through &amp;amp; pick out what we want.  Then we tell everyone else in the campground to come &amp;amp; look.  One of us takes the leftovers home &amp;amp; gives them to the library or something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is the potluck dinner we have.  It is usually on Sat night but this year we had 2.  Saturday &amp;amp; Sunday.  It was yummy.  There is always so much food too.  You never go hungry when camping.  I think I spent around $6000.00 on food this year at Aldi.  The loved me in there!  Didn't want to run out of food.  What would happen if we had to stay an extra day or something awful like that?  I can't have us starving out in the middle of no where(actually no where is about 10 minutes from town).  What if we couldn't get to WalMart?  We could starve.  That's why I had to spend all that money at Aldi.  It was for my families safety.  I wonder if I could convince Pookie that's why I spent all that money at the scrapbook store.  You think he would buy it when I tell him it's for my families safety?  Probably not.  Might be worth a try though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did have a lot of fun.  Then we had to come home.  That's the bad part.  Packing up to leave.  We camp about 1 hour from home &amp;amp; I drove the Tank pulling the trailer so Pookie could let Queenie drive home.  Better him then me.  Give me the trailer any day.  Once home the unpacking of the trailer starts.  I hate that part.  It always takes we weeks to get all the stuff out of there.  And I never seem to get it all.  I always seem to forget something food related in there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some important things to remember:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spaghetti O's don't freeze well.  Well they actually freeze just fine, but you can't eat them after that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cans of Pepsi explode when frozen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fruit snacks that have been frozen never taste quite the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are things that the normal person would not do more then once.  Especially the frozen Pepsi.  I have left Pepsi in the camper over the winter several times.  Not one of my better moments.  But I'm sure that will be the one I am remembered for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-1626814458117825703?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/1626814458117825703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=1626814458117825703' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1626814458117825703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1626814458117825703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-back.html' title=''/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-2532770649815511374</id><published>2007-10-03T23:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T23:44:58.781-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of office</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow I am going camping.  The whole family goes camping on Columbus Day weekend.  It's a tradition.  It's everyone's favorite trip, but it's also the last one of the season.  After this the campers get put away for the winter.  Kind of sad really.  So because I am leaving tomorrow I have been running around like a mad women trying to get ready.  It's not like I didn't know this trip was coming.  It comes at the same time every year.  But I also do this every year too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago the fridge in my trailer broke.  I ordered parts but of course it still doesn't work.  So I have to use coolers this year.  I haven't had to use a cooler while camping in years.  I think I forgot how.  Tomorrow while the Princess is in school I have to buy ice.  Lots of ice.  Pookie is coming over on Saturday morning with Spike &amp;amp; Queenie.  There is too much going on on Friday night for them to come then.  Queenie has driving lessons &amp;amp; Spike has football practice.  My kids are really messing with my social life, such as it is.  Good thing the campground is only an hour away.  If I forget anything I can call him &amp;amp; he can bring it, IF he remembers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I am leaving Thursday with the Princess the other kids will have to get themselves up &amp;amp; to school all by their little selves.  I am a little worried about this because I have to wake them up every morning because they either sleep through their alarms or shut them off.  Pookie is gonna have to call them in the morning just to make sure they are up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to enjoy 2 nights without most of my family.  I am really looking forward to it!  AND I don't feel bad at all!  What I am really going to enjoy is sitting by the fire while Pookie has to do all the chasing around to pick up kids.  I usually do all the picking up .  I leave extra early(without the Princess) &amp;amp; bring a book to read.  It's pretty much the only alone time I get anymore.  Now that the Princess has to shower with me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;EVERY&lt;/span&gt; morning I don't even get the shower to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just figured out how many campers we will have this year.  There will be 7 trailers &amp;amp; about 27 people.  I am really looking forward to it.  The weather is supposed to be in the 80°'s.   I plan on spending a lot of time in my lawn chair.   So until Monday I will be out of the office, so to speak.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I will have some good stories for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-2532770649815511374?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/2532770649815511374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=2532770649815511374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2532770649815511374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2532770649815511374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/out-of-office.html' title='Out of office'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-8891058179546838901</id><published>2007-10-02T13:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T14:28:16.789-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking alone</title><content type='html'>Today I finally got some alone time.  The Princess started preschool today.  She was gone from 10:15 to 11:50.  I decided that while she was gone I would walk at our park.  I did a Alzheimer's walk a few weekends ago.  I walked 3 miles &amp;amp; I liked it.  So today while the Princess was at preschool I walked 2 miles.  I am very proud of myself.  I hope I can do this 2 times a week.  That's my plan anyway, but I have a feeling that it won't always work.  It will be too cold(I hate being cold), we will need groceries, I will need a nap, you know, important stuff like that.   I put on my IPOD &amp;amp; a cute little necklace thingie that holds a bottle of water &amp;amp; off I went.  I learned a few things today.  The first being I am not in good shape.  I do need to lose a few pounds so maybe this will help.  The second is I don't do hills very well at all.  I have never walked the path at our park so I had no idea there were that many hills on it!   I was really huffing &amp;amp; puffing by the time I got to the top of the first one.   I was hoping there would be oxygen stations at the top of each hill, but there wasn't any.  I guess it wasn't in the budget.   I'm gonna have to go to the next town meeting &amp;amp; suggest that.    There are quite a few hills on that trail.  Hopefully I will get better at this.  AND keep it up.  That 's the problem right there.  I always have these great ideas but my follow through sucks.  What I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;should&lt;/span&gt; do is take Bailey the Wonder Dog with me.  Lord knows she could use the exercise too.  Might actually stop her from eating everything in sight.  Maybe she would be so tired from all that walking that she would sleep the rest of the day.  Hmmm, this could work! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to fold laundry.  Apparently no one in this house knows how to fold.  We can all however live out of a laundry basket.  Some day that just might come in handy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8891058179546838901?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8891058179546838901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8891058179546838901' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8891058179546838901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8891058179546838901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/10/walking-alone.html' title='Walking alone'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-4183717958510756641</id><published>2007-09-30T14:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T14:31:46.850-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Multi tasking</title><content type='html'>This morning as I was brushing my teeth( after showering with the Princess yet again) I noticed that I never just brushed my teeth.  I was always doing something else too.  While brushing my teeth I was picking up wet wash cloth's, piling up all the wet clothes, putting away all the combs &amp;amp; brushes &amp;amp; swishing out the sink.  I know for a fact that no one else in my family does this.  I think I am the only one who can multi task.  It must be a Mom thing.  I&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; know&lt;/span&gt; it's not a Dad thing.  Kids can listen to music &amp;amp; do homework at the same time.  So they say.  But when it comes to cleaning no one in my house can multi task.  I have proven it, many times over.  For example I will tell one on my kids to "please fold these socks" while they are just sitting there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't, I'm watching tv." Is the answer I get.  Hello??  I can't remember the last time I just got to watch tv &amp;amp; not be doing something else.  I am usually folding clothes.  That's a never ending battle around here.  I have also been known to look over football, basketball or track paperwork while watching tv.    And I know if I had a laptop I could surf the net while watching tv.  Although I bet a kid could do that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how come I am the only one in the house who can do 2 things at once?  There is only 1 answer to that question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm the Mom, that's why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-4183717958510756641?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/4183717958510756641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=4183717958510756641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/4183717958510756641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/4183717958510756641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/multi-tasking.html' title='Multi tasking'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-2093625328042561237</id><published>2007-09-28T12:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T14:01:02.344-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Queenie the great</title><content type='html'>Last night Pookie &amp;amp; I went to Spikes football game.  In a town an hour away of course.  Football games are never close.  The bleachers are really hard too.  I'm just sayin'.    Anyway while we were gone Queenie turned into the best thing since sliced bread.  Queenie got the job of babysitting the Princess.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;DO NOT EVER&lt;/span&gt; take the Princess to a football game unless I can possibly avoid it.  There are a few advantages to having older kids.  I get built in babysitters.  Queenie was wonderful with her last night.  First the Princess let Queenie remove a sliver that I couldn't get near.  It had been in there for a few days because she screamed every time I talked about it.  I was hoping it would fall out on it's own.  Queenie got it out without any trouble at all.  Way to go Queenie!  Then she got the Princess to take a shower with her.  Last time I tried that it turned into a screaming fest.  And it wasn't a real shower.  I just used to removable shower head to rinse her hair.  Here is what happened:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was about a year ago &amp;amp; the Princess was in the tub with every toy we own.  Her hair was already washed but there was creme rinse in it.  I went into the kitchen to put away the bread from dinner.  Didn't want Bailey the Wonder Dog to eat it.&lt;br /&gt;I hear a scream coming from the bathroom.  I run in only to discover that the Princess has pooped in the tub.  Not a good poop either.  Know what I'm sayin?  She was scared to death.  It was not a tiny poop &amp;amp; of course it got all over every toy we own.  She still has creme rinse in her hair too.  I scooped out all the toys &amp;amp; put them into the sink &amp;amp; let the water out.  Now I have to use the removable shower head to rinse the creme rinse out of her hair.  It didn't go well.  Lots of screaming,"You're getting me wet!"  Duh.  What did she think was gonna happen?  I managed to rinse her hair without the neighbors calling DCFS.  The Princess can really scream &amp;amp; it was warm out so the windows were open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really please that Queenie was able to give her a shower without any problems.  It was such a fun time in there that she insisted on showering with me this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great, showering was my only shot at any alone time.  I lost the "going to the bathroom alone" a long time ago.  But I could still shower by myself.  Now that's gone too.  **sigh**&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-2093625328042561237?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/2093625328042561237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=2093625328042561237' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2093625328042561237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2093625328042561237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/queenie-great.html' title='Queenie the great'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-5688336525326117503</id><published>2007-09-27T15:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T16:52:41.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bandaids &amp; bribery</title><content type='html'>Yesterday the Princess walked outside on the deck in her bare feet.  I always have a hard time keeping shoes &amp;amp;  socks on her.  Even in the Winter she is barefoot.  Makes  me cold just lookin' at her.  She was out there for all of 2 seconds when she came back in crying, "I have a sliver!"  I hate those words out of her.  It is not an easy thing removing a sliver from a 3 year old who is flailing around like an Octopus.  She is also screaming at the top of her lungs.  AND I haven't touched her yet.  I finally get out of her that yes she would like me to take it out.  I go into the bathroom to get my surgical instruments.  Saying it that way sounds so much better then saying I went to get the rusty old tweezers.  I'm sticking with Surgical Instruments.  After I find all the Surgical Instruments I hunt down my reading glasses.  Now that I am old I can't see close up without them.   I have all the stuff I need including the bandaids.  They are the most important part of the whole procedure.   They can also be used as a bribe.  A good Mom always knows what she can use to bribe her kids.  With the Princess it's bandaids.   Not just any bandaids, special Princess bandaids.  Is there any other kind? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the fun part.  I grab a foot as it flies past my face hoping that I have the right one.  I might only get one shot at this.  Great I have the right foot, now I just have to try to focus my old eyes on the sliver.  I locate it just under the big toe.  It's on a bendy part of the toe too.  This is gonna be tough.  She of course is screaming her head off &amp;amp; I haven't actually touched it yet.  Getting her to hold still is not easy.  With all the flailing going on I hope I don't lose an eye.  As I get her foot close to my face so I can see it, she kicks me in the nose.  This is so much fun.  I try again.  I finally manage to get the sliver out.  Not sure how I did it though.  The kick to my nose almost put me in a coma.  I have no memory of removing it. &lt;br /&gt;After all the fun we get to pick out a special princess bandaid.  We get one for the actual owie &amp;amp; 2 more just for being so brave.  I'm so glad she was brave about it.  This could of gotten really ugly if she chose to fight me.  **sigh** &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to recap, I have successfully removed a sliver, almost lost an eye &amp;amp; barely escaped a coma.  But on the plus side I did get a bandaid for being so brave.   It's an Ariel one &amp;amp; I get to wear it proudly on my arm where it will remove all the hair when it gets ripped off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-5688336525326117503?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/5688336525326117503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=5688336525326117503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5688336525326117503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5688336525326117503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/bandaids-bribery.html' title='Bandaids &amp; bribery'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-491459363386251958</id><published>2007-09-26T12:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T13:08:01.861-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soap'/><title type='text'>$50.00 later</title><content type='html'>Why is it that when ever I go into Walmart I feel the need to spend $50.00?  We just got a new HUGE Walmart a few months ago &amp;amp; it's great.  We always had to go to the next town to go to Walmart before.  We were all thinking how great it was going to be having one right in our own  town!  That is until we all started to shop there.   Don't get me wrong.  I really like having a Walmart in town.  Until it showed up we were not able to buy a spool of thread or any craft type items that your kid needed for school(the next day of course)in town.    We had to travel at least 20 minutes to do it.  Now 20 minutes does not sound like a long time to those of you without kids.  20 minutes is not long at all.  But when your child announces at 8:00 at night that he needs to take a wooden embroidery hoop to school tomorrow for art, 20 minutes is a long time.  At least now it is only 5 minutes away AND it's open 24 hours.  A real bonus for those extra special times when your kid gets out of bed at 10:00 to tell you about the Fuzzy Pipe Cleaners &amp;amp; Poster Board that he HAS to take tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went to Walmart for Pepsi &amp;amp; soap.  $53.43 later I left the store.  There is a force in that store that makes you buy stuff that you had no intention of buying.  First I went to get the soap.  On the way I noticed toothbrushes on sale.  Grabbed a few of those.  Then I remembered I just put the last bottle of shampoo in the shower.   Got shampoo.  And so it goes.  By the time I actually get to the Pepsi isle the bottom of my cart is full.  The Princess spotted the Lunchables so I get her one.  It's not bad if you only have to buy 1 Lunchable.  It's when you have to buy 4 or 5 at a time that they get pricey!  As I work my way to the checkout more things seem to jump in my cart.  I hate it when that happens.  It's like shopping with Pookie.  When I shop with him I find all kinds of stuff when unloading the cart.  It's usually something sweet.  Dots or something equally nutritious.   And he has no idea how any of it got into the cart either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all the money that I have spent in Walmart I think they should name a wing after me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-491459363386251958?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/491459363386251958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=491459363386251958' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/491459363386251958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/491459363386251958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/5000-later.html' title='$50.00 later'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-3744497818237326350</id><published>2007-09-24T11:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T12:30:59.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Princess &amp; the hottie</title><content type='html'>It is class ring time &amp;amp; Queenie wants one.  Smitty was never interested in getting one so I got a reprieve until now.  They had a Class Ring Fair at the high school.  What this consisted of is a lot of waiting in line. (Note to self: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;DO NOT EVER&lt;/span&gt; take the Princess to this again.)   We had gotten the catalog in the mail of all the styles of rings.  No prices of course.  That would make it too easy.  While waiting in line Queenie picked out a ring that she liked.  I told her that we would have to wait &amp;amp; see how much it was because I was not dropping $500.00 on a ring for her.  I know she will lose it.  Her room is a total pit most of the  time &amp;amp; stuff is always getting lost in there. &lt;br /&gt;When you wait in line that long you start to chat with everyone around you.  I was chatting with a Mom behind me who had a son Queenie's age.  The Princess was getting REALLY bored after waiting this long.  By this time we had been in line over an hour &amp;amp; it was not looking good.  Queenie was wonderful with her.  Taking her over to a counter so she could color, taking her for a million drinks out of the drinking fountain &amp;amp; to the bathroom several times.  I couldn't do those things with her.  I couldn't  lose my place in line you know.  **wink wink**&lt;br /&gt;Now I am holding the Princess &amp;amp; she is throwing her body backwards trying to do a back flip out of my arms.  I am trying to hang on because I know if she lands on her head I will have to take her to the ER &amp;amp; I will lose my place in line.  Any one who has waited in line forever with a little one knows exactly what I am thinking here.  If I stay in line with a broken &amp;amp; bleeding kid it just looks bad.  I'm just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden she stops her back flip attempts, sits up looks at the guy behind me &amp;amp; says in her most quietest inside voice(haha the Princess only has 1 volume, loud)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOM, HE'S A HOTTIE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course just when she said that it got really quiet in there &amp;amp; everyone with ears heard her.&lt;br /&gt;I look at the poor guy &amp;amp; he is turning several shades of red.  Queenie &amp;amp; her friend are laughing &amp;amp; so is everyone who heard her.  It was impossible not to hear her. The boys Mom is laughing too.  I was trying not to laugh too much. I felt bad for the poor kid.  I know he was embarrassed.  At this age you like to blend in, not be singled out as a hottie by a 3 year old in front of tons of people.    I told him that he has just been declared a hottie by a 3 year old.  That's a honor.  I'm sure he was wondering what planet I came from &amp;amp; when was I going back. &lt;br /&gt;After waiting in line for an hour &amp;amp; a half  it was finally our turn.  Turns out that the ring she wants STARTS at $379.00.  That is before you add all the cool stuff like your year, name &amp;amp; whatever sport you play.  We picked another one &amp;amp; spent just under $100.00.  That I can live with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to walk all 3 miles at the Alzheimer's Memory Walk &amp;amp; I got a snazzy purple t-shirt because I did it.   Over $45.000 was raised.  Not just by me, I'm not that good!    Thank you to everyone who donated.  It's for a wonderful cause.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3744497818237326350?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3744497818237326350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3744497818237326350' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3744497818237326350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3744497818237326350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/princess-hottie.html' title='The Princess &amp; the hottie'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-8594279522554115175</id><published>2007-09-21T09:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T16:11:43.155-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alzheimer&apos;s'/><title type='text'>Alzheimer's Disease</title><content type='html'>This Sunday I am walking in a very important event.  It is the 2007  Alzheimer's Memory Walk.  My family has a Loved One with Alzheimer's so this walk is very important to us.  There are walks held all over the states but this one is being held at Lippold Park in Crystal Lake, IL.  It is a 3 mile course.  I hope I make it.   I can't remember the last time I actually walked 3 miles all at the same time.  But it is for a good cause so I will drag myself over the finish line if I have to.  Did you hear that family?  Actually you will be the ones dragging me.  Please eat your Wheaties that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to shamelessly ask for donations.  There I said it.   I wasn't going to but I did.  If you want more information about the walk you can go to   &lt;a href="http://tinyurl.com/2ke5to"&gt;&lt;b&gt;http://tinyurl.com/2ke5to&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you would like to donate to my team leave a comment with your e-mail address &amp;amp; I can get you the information.  It is very easy to do.  It is all done online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alzheimer's is a horrible disease.  For family &amp;amp; friends all we want is for it to be over.  But then if it is over our Loved One is gone &amp;amp; we don't want that either.  We are between a rock &amp;amp; a hard place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok I have stepped off my soapbox.  Thanks for listening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise to write something funny tomorrow.  :0)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8594279522554115175?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8594279522554115175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8594279522554115175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8594279522554115175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8594279522554115175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/alzheimers-disease.html' title='Alzheimer&apos;s Disease'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-3054206613563037928</id><published>2007-09-20T14:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T14:48:53.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tinkles &amp; FlutterPonies</title><content type='html'>I love to listen to the Princess talk.  Sometimes we have the best conversations.  Once in awhile I forget that I am talking to a 3 year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago I asked her if she wanted juice.  She looked at me &amp;amp; said,"No Mom, I'm good."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep forgetting that she is really a 15 yr old little girl in a 3yr old body.  She can sing the words to several songs that Queenie listens to.  Most of then I have never heard of, but that's ok.  I'm a Mom &amp;amp; I don't get out much.  Queenie &amp;amp; the Princess have a little game going on.  Whenever Queenie says "Sweet", the Princess will answer "totally".  It's pretty cute to listen too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite conversation so far happened two nights ago.  I was in the bathroom with her drying her off after her bath.  Here is how it went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Princess: "Mom do Tinkles come out of my butt?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Yes they do."&lt;br /&gt;Princess:  "Do PooPoo's come out of my butt?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Yes they do."&lt;br /&gt;Princess:  "Do FlutterPonies come out of my butt?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Um, no they don't."&lt;br /&gt;Princess:  "Can I have a pop tart?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying so hard not to laugh.  The FlutterPony thing came out of no where.  I didn't expect her to ask that.  But then again I don't expect her to say a lot of the stuff that she says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope one day I can remember this conversation so I can tell her about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-3054206613563037928?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/3054206613563037928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=3054206613563037928' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3054206613563037928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/3054206613563037928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/tinkles-flutterponies.html' title='Tinkles &amp; FlutterPonies'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-1251892042625020960</id><published>2007-09-19T20:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T20:41:16.938-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom, we're out of soap!</title><content type='html'>This morning I step into the shower only to discover there is a dime size piece of soap in there.  I of course am already wet at this point.  I step out of the shower to grab another bar.  I can't find any.  It sure would of been nice if my family would of shared the fact that they were putting the last bar of soap in the shower.  I could of avoided this whole dripping all over the floor thing.  I step back in the shower &amp;amp; the Mom in me thinks that I can do this.  After all I am "Super Mom"!  Of course I can shower with a tiny piece of soap.    As I pick it up it slides out of my fingers &amp;amp; I watch as it goes down the drain.  Crap!  What can I use now?  There is no soap.  Oooh there is shampoo, I can use that.  So I shower AND wash myself with shampoo.  I thought only guys did that.  All day long I felt bouncy &amp;amp; shiny.  I wonder if anyone noticed?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-1251892042625020960?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/1251892042625020960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=1251892042625020960' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1251892042625020960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1251892042625020960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/mom-were-out-of-soap.html' title='Mom, we&apos;re out of soap!'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-8175882639380530869</id><published>2007-09-18T12:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T13:50:06.917-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love Monday's</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I changed all the sheets on all the beds.  It's a Monday thing.  I washed everything from The Princess's bed.  Including her My Little Pony comforter &amp;amp; blanket.  I figured if I couldn't remember when I had washed them last, it was time. I meant the comforter &amp;amp; blanket here not the sheets.  I'm just sayin'.     Just before nap I put her bed back together.  It always takes a while to get hers put back together.  She has so much stuff on the floor in her room that I almost always come out of there injured by a stray lego that has embedded itself in my knee or a stab wound from a My Little Pony Unicorn horn.    Her room is a war zone.  After I put her bed together &amp;amp; get the required amount of injures while doing it, I have to put back all the animals &amp;amp; crap(I meant that in a good way)that she sleeps with.  There are several things that HAVE to be on the bed or we can't sleep.  Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nemo has to be on her pillow, Calliou goes next to her.  Cup sits between the pillow &amp;amp; bed rail.  Plastic Pringles from her kitchen live under her pillow just in case the Tooth Fairy comes while she is sleeping.  (I have no idea why the Tooth Fairy is collecting chips now.)  A microphone in case we want to sing before we go to sleep,  Mickey goes on her other side.  There are also various kitchen utensils from her kitchen.  Just in case she feels the need to cook I guess.  Then on top of everything goes her yellow blanket.  Yellow blanket is really a Baby Bop green &amp;amp; pink blanket that Queenie made for her.  Because it is the same colors as Baby Bop, it became Yellow Blanket.  Makes perfect sense to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last &amp;amp; most important thing is her YaYa.  It is really a Taggie  from &lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;taggie.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea why she calls it a YaYa.  She has always called it that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rule #1 You must NEVER go to sleep with out your YaYa.  If you do all Hell will break loose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rule #2 NEVER lose the Yaya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easier said then done let me tell you.  She loves to hide it inside of things.  I have gone on a search &amp;amp; destroy mission more then once at night looking for the darn thing. Nothing like playing Hide &amp;amp; seek at 9:30 at night.  It's big fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Princess takes a great nap on her nice &amp;amp; clean bed, on top of everything this time.&lt;br /&gt;"Not under Mom, on top".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she gets up she informs me that she needs new pants because hers are wet.  I go into her room only to discover that the bed I painstakingly made a few hours ago is soaked  &amp;amp; I get to wash it again.&lt;br /&gt;Lucky me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Mondays.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8175882639380530869?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8175882639380530869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8175882639380530869' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8175882639380530869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8175882639380530869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/yesterday-i-changed-all-sheets-on-all.html' title='I love Monday&apos;s'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-499785919094913640</id><published>2007-09-17T14:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T15:08:18.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I drive?</title><content type='html'>Friday the most horrible thing happened.  Queenie brought home her Driving Permit.  I knew it was coming, I even had to send in money so she could get it.  But I didn't actually believe it.  It was one of those "ya gotta see it to believe it" moments.  And I saw it.  I'm looking at it right now hanging on the fridge.  It doesn't look very scary hanging there all innocent like.  But I know different.    Pookie took her driving for the first time.  I think girls are harder then boys.  At least they are in this house.  With Smitty it was easy.  He had already driven tractors &amp;amp; dirt bikes.  He had the basics down.  Driving with him was much easier.  Driving with a girl is sooo much harder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have 2 vehicle's that she can drive.  A small pickup truck &amp;amp; a tank.  She went driving for the first time in the pickup.  She said it went well.  Pookie said different.   Although there are no dents in the truck &amp;amp; Pookie wasn't shaking as bad as I thought he would be, so I think it went well.   They were gone for over an hour which I thought was pretty good for the first time.   They have to have 50 hours behind the wheel with a parent.  10 of those must be night driving.  Smitty only had to have 25 &amp;amp; I thought those were hard to do.   Getting 50 is going to be really tough.  I think we will be getting them 5 mins at a time too.   We are already getting the standard response for everything we have to leave the house for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can I drive?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has only had her permit since Friday &amp;amp; I already hate those 3 little words.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took her driving 1 time over the weekend.  I needed to go to Aldi &amp;amp; she drove me.  It was the longest trip of my life.   Aldi is really only 5 mins or so away from the house.   I took her the only way I could so that she would NOT be on the highway.  I didn't think she was ready for the highway.  I was right.  Plus it was the first time she had ever driven The Tank.  The Tank is a 4 door suburban.  Much larger then the  pickup.  You are up higher too.  I like being bigger then a lot of cars on the road.  To me that's a good thing.  When we got back(from the longest trip of my life) she said she felt like The Tank was bigger then the road.  I remember feeling that way when I was learning to drive.  Dad had a Vega, Mom had a Buick.  It was HUGE!  I drove the Vega, hated the Buick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know where she is coming from.  I just hope we live through it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-499785919094913640?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/499785919094913640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=499785919094913640' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/499785919094913640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/499785919094913640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/can-i-drive.html' title='Can I drive?'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-7891078078888222634</id><published>2007-09-13T13:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T09:53:38.151-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am NOT eating that!</title><content type='html'>I love making dinner for my family.  I bet that at least once a week everyone will eat what I fix with out complaining.   Take last night for example.  I made Stuffed Peppers in the Crock Pot &amp; we had home made bread to eat with it.  Yes I said home made bread.  Bread that I actually made myself from scratch.  Now everyone loves home made bread.  You have to.  I thought it was a rule.  Everyone this is except Queenie.  She has got to be the pickiest eater on the planet.   Most of the time whatever I make she will say, "I am so NOT eating that!"  Then because she has said she is not eating it the Princess will not eat it either.  I do try to make stuff that everyone likes but it is really hard when she only likes 2 things.  Turkey &amp;amp; Chicken.  I like turkey &amp; chicken  just as much as the next guy but I can't make them  every night.    There are really only a few ways to make chicken that she will eat.  I usually make in it the crock pot &amp;amp; I use Cream of Mushroom soup.  Once she found out I was using Cream of Mushroom soup in there she wouldn't eat it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't like mushrooms Mom, you know that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I know that.  I know everything that she doesn't eat.  I'm just a little sketchy on the stuff she WILL eat.  She exists on Peanut Butter Sandwiches &amp; cereal when I make stuff she doesn't like.  Which is most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was never one of those Moms  who made each kid a different meal when they didn't like what I fixed.    I hate cooking anyway, mostly because my family is so picky.   I just figured they could eat Apple Sauce, Bread &amp;amp; Butter &amp;amp; Cheese if they chose not to eat what I fixed.    Nobody has starved yet so my method must be working.   I have yet to get a phone call from school telling me my child starved to death, so think I'm good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-7891078078888222634?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/7891078078888222634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=7891078078888222634' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/7891078078888222634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/7891078078888222634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-am-not-eating-that.html' title='I am NOT eating that!'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-6067888017346419584</id><published>2007-09-12T13:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T14:03:53.937-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Those "Mom of the Year" moments</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Everyone has “Mom of the year” moments.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We don’t like to admit it but we do.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You know the ones I’m talking about.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are the ones that leave you looking &amp; feeling extremely stupid.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Usually in front of a crowd of people.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This kind of stuff almost never happens when you are alone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They just wouldn’t be as effective then!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This proud moment happened to me yesterday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was across the street chatting with the neighbor in her yard when I noticed someone walking a dog. It was a Yellow Lab &amp; since I have one I always notice those.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I could hear the dog breathing hard &amp; it was pulling on the leash.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I kept talking my friend &amp; ignored the dog until it pulled its person into the yard where we were.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The dog was very friendly &amp; it looked like it needed to go on a diet.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Or at the very least more walks.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The dogs walker then asked if we knew who this dog belonged to.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I took a closer look at the dog &amp; said,”Crap, that’s my dog!” &lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yes it was Bailey the Wonder Dog.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was a proud moment for me because I didn’t even know she was gone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now lets flashback to earlier in the day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Around &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="12"&gt;noon&lt;/st1:time&gt; I let the dog out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I forgot about her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She usually does her thing &amp; then barks when she wants in.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was busy with the Princess &amp; I also had a spare kid.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I forgot all about the dog.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m such a good Mom!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A few hours later I went outside to the garbage can &amp; noticed my gate was wide open.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A brief thought crossed my mind.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wonder if the dog got out?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I should look.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just figured that she would be passed out on the couch downstairs. It’s one of her favorite activities along with eating anything &amp; everything she can reach.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think she is really a guy in disguise.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;As we all know Mom’s are very busy people &amp; by the time I got back in the house the phone had rung &amp;amp; I forgot to look for the dog.  &lt;span style=""&gt; Return to real time &amp; there I am feeling very stupid in front of a girl I don't know &amp;amp; my neighbor.  My neighbor thought this was very funny.  I think she is still laughing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-6067888017346419584?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/6067888017346419584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=6067888017346419584' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6067888017346419584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/6067888017346419584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/those-mom-of-year-moments.html' title='Those &quot;Mom of the Year&quot; moments'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-9023723234371476541</id><published>2007-09-11T11:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T11:29:39.621-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Soup anyone?</title><content type='html'>Why is it that whenever you put a kid in the bathtub they will drink the water?  Last night I put the Princess in the tub with  her toys.  Usually I put the toys in for her.  This time she decided to put in the whole bucket full.   Among the toys are various cups of different sizes.  She uses them to dump water all over the floor. I use the bigger one to rinse her hair.  While dumping all the toys she finds a spoon.  She gets very excited over this.  We haven't dumped out all the toys in a long time.  I get her settled &amp; go to the kitchen to finish loading the dishwasher.  After a few minutes I hear,"Mom want some soup"?  Great, I know exactly what she is doing.  Drinking the bath water.  Yum.  Nothing like yummy soapy dirty butt water soup!  Seconds anyone? &lt;br /&gt;I tried to explain that you don't drink dirty water that your butt sits in but she just didn't get it. She was extra dirty too.  Yuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-9023723234371476541?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/9023723234371476541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=9023723234371476541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/9023723234371476541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/9023723234371476541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/soup-anyone.html' title='Soup anyone?'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-7121767595897929906</id><published>2007-09-08T11:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T12:01:10.205-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a date!</title><content type='html'>Queenie came home from the football game last night &amp; informed me that she has a date for Homecoming.  Now while I am happy for her, this brings back really bad memories of the last school dance she went to.  Not the dance itself, that went great according to her.  It was the shopping.  Shopping with a 15 year old just sucks.  I took her to the mall.  I was hoping for some nice Mother Daughter bonding.  Wishful thinking on my part.  I'm hoping she has something in her closet that she can wear to this dance.  But I am betting she doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;Here is what happened last time we went shopping for a dance outfit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Queenie is going to the Winter Formal at school.  This requires a shopping trip because she has nothing to wear.  Went Wednesday to &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;the next town&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, hit 7 stores &amp; found nothing.  Thursday night we went to the mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave the house at &lt;st1:time hour="16" minute="30"&gt;4:30&lt;/st1:time&gt; to go to The Mall.  I have $50.00 cash I hope it's enough otherwise plastic here I come.  We park in front of Sears &amp;amp; I say a quick prayer to the clothing Gods for a quick &amp; painless trip on my way in.  First stop Sears, nothing.  Damn.  I was hoping for a miracle.  Oh well many more stores to go.  Next stop Deb's.  After spending what seemed like 3 days in here I found a black skirt with red trim on the bottom that actually fit, looked good AND she liked it. Plus it was only $12.99 SOLD!!   Bad news is that the top we had at home has green stripes on it and won't go with the new skirt.  Ok, don't panic, now we need a shirt &amp;amp; shoes.  Spend another day and a half looking in same store for shirt.  Can't find anything we like.  Off to the next hundred or so stores.  Nada.  Ok now I am starving &amp; my feet feel like they are going to fall off.  We make a pit stop at the food court when I sit in a booth with my legs propped up feeling very old.  After we eat it's off to the next store, where we found nothing.  Then we hit J.C. Penney's.  In here we find shoes, a necklace &amp;amp; bracelet, all on sale!  Yes!!! But still no top.  It's about &lt;st1:time hour="19" minute="0"&gt;7:00&lt;/st1:time&gt; now &amp; those strollers you can rent that look like fire trucks are looking pretty good about now.  I wonder if she will push me? Probably not.&lt;br /&gt;Now I start with the "you have to find a shirt soon we have to go" speech.  That went over like a fart in church.   Back to Deb's where I threaten her with the "you only have 15 minutes to find a shirt" speech.  She is now pissed &amp;amp; I am ready to kill her.  Spend 2 days wandering around the store looking at prom dresses.  Even found one I wanted to try on.  Wait! What am I thinking we are here to get a shirt, where is she?  Spot her wandering around.  Threaten her again.  Thought I saw a tear.  Crap.  Then I tell her we are going to Sears.  It is the last store before the car.  You HAVE to find a shirt in here or you will not have one.  Yep there it is… an actual tear.  Wonderful.  Off I go into Sears with her trailing behind me.  About 10 feet into the store there it is.  Music goes off &amp; light shines above the rack.  It’s a red silky top.  We both stop to look.  Oh my God she likes it.   I grab 2 sizes &amp;amp; drag her toward the changing room before she can change her mind.  It’s more then I want to spend but at this point I don't care.  When she has it on &amp; STILL likes it I toss in the skirt.  I might actually get lucky here.   Well how is it?  I hold my breath as she opens the door.    She says the most beautiful words….. "I like it".   I almost wet myself.  You’re beautiful I say.  She shuts the door &amp;amp; I send a prayer of thanks to the clothing Gods that I lived through this.   She tosses out the skirt &amp;amp; top.  I sprint toward the checkout to pay for it before she changes her mind.&lt;br /&gt;Moral of story:&lt;br /&gt;Skirt-$12.99&lt;br /&gt;Top-$23.00&lt;br /&gt;Shoes-$13.00&lt;br /&gt;Necklace-$1.98&lt;br /&gt;Bracelet-$1.98&lt;br /&gt;Spending quality time with your 15 year old daughter......... PRICELESS&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-7121767595897929906?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/7121767595897929906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=7121767595897929906' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/7121767595897929906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/7121767595897929906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-have-date.html' title='I have a date!'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-8255085631880494142</id><published>2007-09-07T11:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T12:54:27.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom always says don't play ball in the house.</title><content type='html'>Kids are great &amp; sometimes they do stuff that you just have to laugh at.  Here is a good example.&lt;br /&gt;Remember the Brady Bunch episode where they played basketball in the house &amp; broke a vase?  I think everyone has seen that one several times.   This is our version of that story. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago I came home after spending all day at the hospital with my Father-in-law.  Pookie was already home from work &amp; was watching the girls play catch in the living room.  Now I don't mind if they play catch in the house but you have to be careful.  We do have ceiling fans.  Do you see where I am going with this?  I went into the kitchen &amp; noticed that my wonderful children had not touched it all day.  They just added to the mess.   Here is a visual for you.  Various My Little Ponies scattered all over the floor.  Colored pencils &amp; about 50 sheets of printer paper(all with a little scribble on each one) are everywhere.  Apparently we have a little artist.  Several pieces of plastic food from the Princess's kitchen litter the floor.  'Nuf said.  Get the picture yet?  Oh yea &amp; the sink is overflowing with dishes.  Both sides are heaping with dirty dishes &amp; a glass is perched on top of the pile.  I'm not exactly sure how it's staying up  there.   It's just plain scary in here.   As I stand in the kitchen the girls wander in &amp; start playing catch.    The words be careful are not even out of my mouth when the Princess tosses the ball in the air.  I watch helpless as the ceiling fan catches the ball &amp;  flings it over to the wall knocking the curtain rod off the window.  See where this is going?   The curtain rod falls into the sink hitting the glass that has been perched so nicely on top of the pile sending it crashing to the floor.  Of course it smashed into a million tiny pieces.   There is really nothing to do but laugh at this point.    The princess is not wearing any shoes so we grab her &amp; move her to the carpet.  She is mad &amp; starts to cry because she wants to help pick up the glass.   I don't let her because I have spent enough quality time at the hospital today &amp; I do not have time for a ER visit.    It's a good thing that no one put the vacuum cleaner away last time they used it.  That makes it really handy to clean up the mess.   I even manage to clean it all up without cutting myself.  After about 45 minutes I can see the floor.  Before I can vacuum up all the glass I have to pick up  all the toys &amp;amp; other stuff that is on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that my friends is a perfectly good example of why your Mother always told you not to play ball in the house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-8255085631880494142?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/8255085631880494142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=8255085631880494142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8255085631880494142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/8255085631880494142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/mom-always-says-dont-play-ball-in-house.html' title='Mom always says don&apos;t play ball in the house.'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-9130944249713867287</id><published>2007-09-06T13:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T15:12:52.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm bored</title><content type='html'>Pookie came home form the ER with instructions to ice down his ankle tonight &amp; take it easy the next day.  He dropped off his prescription at Walgreens before coming home.  He came into the house &amp;amp; I got him settled in the recliner with an ice pack &amp; went to pick up Spike from Football practice.   I picked up Spike &amp;amp; then headed to Walgreens to pick up the prescription.  Of course it was not ready &amp; they were so busy.  I have never seen it so busy.  I left poor Spike in the car telling him I would only be a minute.  After all how long could it take to pick up a RX &amp;amp; a battery?  Well it took almost 45 minutes.    Poor Spike was exhausted from practice &amp; very smelly &amp;amp; sweaty.  When I finally left the store I found my car by looking for the stink fumes coming off of it.  It was pretty easy to find because it was the only car with little squiggly fumes rising above it.  We rode home with the windows down.  Good thing it's summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pookie didn't go to work today.  I didn't think it was going to happen but he said he was going in today.   My alarm went off at 6:30 &amp; he is still in bed.  He usually leaves around 6:30.   I told him to stay home &amp;amp; off the ankle today.  Then I got up to start the waking up process of 2 kids while he went back to sleep.  Gotta love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up Queenie &amp; all I got was a grunt.  Then off to wake up Spike.  I get a much better response from him.  He actually sits up &amp;amp; looks at me.  Then back up to wake up Queenie again.  This time I have success.  I don't talk to her because I have learned this is a bad thing.  She is NOT a morning person.  Apparently that is why she slept til 1:00 everyday all summer.  To avoid the morning.  Good plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got Queenie out the door on time &amp; then later noticed that she forgot her lunch in the fridge.  It's only day 4 of school &amp;amp; we are already forgetting our lunch.  It's gonna be a great year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had to drive Spike to school today.  He had this huge hockey bag full of Football pads &amp; other football type stuff.  It's bigger then he is &amp;amp; I'm pretty sure it weighs more.   His bus is so crowded that they have to sit 3 kids to a seat.  That means that this huge bag gets to ride on his lap.  He begged for a ride today.  So being the nice  Mommy that I am I drove him.  As I load the Princess into her car seat I notice that it is 8:15.  School starts in 15 minutes.  Wonderful, we are running late.  So I am driving like a bat out of Hell(very safely &amp; within the speed limit of course ) and as we drive past one of his friends(also on the football team) he says,"oh crap!  I forgot my jersey."   Great.  I take the next turn &amp;amp; speed home.  I ask him if he knows where it is.  He yells,"yes" as he runs in to the house.  He has a game today &amp; was supposed to wear the Jersey.  You would think that this would of crossed his mind last night when I told him to pick out his clothes for today.   But then again he is 13 &amp;amp; a guy.  That's 2 strikes against him.  Poor kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pookie is sitting in the recliner with ice on his ankle.  He managed to take a shower without any help from me.  I didn't hear any big thuds coming from the bathroom either.  That means he didn't fall.  Good.    He hobbles out to the recliner &amp; I start filling the ice pack.  The Princess is playing Nancy Nurse &amp;amp; wrapping his other ankle in a Ace wrap.   When I take the Ace wrap away so I can use it I give her 2 straps with Velcro on them. She is just as happy with those.   What ever works.   After I get him settled he tells me he is bored.  This is great.  Now I have to play Cruise Director today &amp; keep him entertained.  Like I have nothing else to do today.  I left the Princess in charge of entertainment &amp;amp; left the room.  I need to try to find a counter today.  I am doing it slowly.  I don't want to overwork myself.    The Princess entertained him by watching Clifford, Dragon Tales, Calliou &amp;amp; Teletubbies.   Where does she come up with these great ideas?  I could of never provided that quality of entertainment on my own.  Good thing she was here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my kids tell me they are bored I make them clean something.  I am going to make him fold socks.  I hate folding socks.  We have a "SOCK BASKET"  it's where I put all the socks when I fold clothes.  Eventually we all dig through it for socks because no one wants to match them up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Pookie I have a job for you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-9130944249713867287?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/9130944249713867287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=9130944249713867287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/9130944249713867287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/9130944249713867287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/im-bored.html' title='I&apos;m bored'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-2515226001661097280</id><published>2007-09-05T22:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T13:03:17.055-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Serious Injury</title><content type='html'>Around 4:00 I got a call from Dh( from here on out to be known as Pookie)  telling me he was in the ER.  I was wondering where he was.   At least now I know.  He was supposed to come home after work, change clothes &amp; go play in some sort of poker tournament thingie with some friends.  About 10 minutes before the end of work, he got out of his truck &amp;amp; stepped on a hose.  He twisted his ankle &amp; heard some snap, crackle &amp;amp; pop noises.  Those kinds of nosies are never good when they are body related.  I'm sure he said some choice words too.  He did the right thing though &amp; told work what he did.  Otherwise with our luck it will come back &amp;amp; bite us in the ass.  Then he went to the ER.  He drove himself too.  He hurt his right ankle.  And since he is a guy driving on it was perfectly fine.  You guys know exactly what I am talking about.  Never ask for help if you can possibly avoid it.&lt;br /&gt;So my wonderful Pookie drives on his rapidly swelling ankle to the ER.  When he calls to tell me where he is he says,"I'm afraid to take my boot off."&lt;br /&gt;Great.  This already sounds good doesn't it?  I picture him coming home(driving of course) with crutches &amp; orders to stay home for a week.  This is not good.  Guys are whiny when they are sick.    Oh stop, you know you are.  And when they are not sick but have to stay home anyway they are worse.&lt;br /&gt;This is really going to mess up my day.  How can I lay on the couch in my robe eating BonBons &amp;amp; watching soaps if he is going to be home?   Usually I get the kids out the door &amp; then the Princess &amp;amp; I lounge around eating chocolate &amp; giving directions to the maids(notice the s on the end of Maid) till 1ish then she takes a nap. Then I shower &amp;amp; get dressed cause it looks bad if you are still in your jammies when the kids come home from school.  Pookie is really gonna mess this up for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha!  I wish!    In my dreams I would have a maid or 2 or 6.  The lounging around in my jammies all day has actually happened.  Not recently though.  And I also think I had the flu.  Because every Mom knows that in order to stay in your jammies &amp;amp; lounge around all day you have to be sick.  Not just a little sick but A LOT sick.  Sick with fluid coming out of every orifice you own sick.  Ok well you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to bed.  Well first I have to make sure that anything that looks like food or could be used as a food substitute is hung from the ceiling.  Bailey the Wonder Dog will be on the prowl tonight.  Looking I'm sure, for anything that she didn't eat today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-2515226001661097280?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/2515226001661097280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=2515226001661097280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2515226001661097280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/2515226001661097280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/around-400-i-got-call-from-dh-from-here.html' title='Serious Injury'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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-5645498263993872766.post-1748545771152496424</id><published>2007-09-05T13:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T16:34:04.548-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bailey the Wonder Dog</title><content type='html'>As I mentioned in my profile I have a dog.  Bailey the Wonder Dog.  She is a 7 year old yellow lab.   She is wired for sound most of the time.  Although I do have to say that she is calming down a bit in her old age.   We have had yellow labs in the past &amp; they were the total opposite of Bailey the Wonder Dog. They were calm, never left the yard &amp;amp; didn't eat anything.  The Wonder Dog is wired for sound, bolts out of the door every chance she gets &amp; eats EVERYTHING.  When I say everything I mean everything.  Today I took the Princess to WalMart &amp;amp; Jewel.  We were gone about 1 hour.  We have a crate for her(the dog not the Princess) but haven't been using it lately because, well pretty much because no one can remember to crate her before we leave the house.  Gonna have to work on that.  I came home from the stores &amp; I took a quick look around.  Dog sleeping right where we left her, no puke, looks good.  Great.  I start to put things away then the Princess comes to me with 2 half eaten crayons.   Mommy the dog ate my colors.  Crap.  This will mean pretty colored poop in the yard.  Wonderful.  Then I walk into the living room &amp;amp; notice a half eaten peanut butter jar laying on the floor.  When I say half eaten what I really mean is the jar was squeaky clean.  Not a spot of Peanut Butter in it.   The jar was also half gone.  Yep she ate the jar.   There was no label either.   I found the half eaten lid a few feet away.    Crap!  That was a  new jar too.  The kids just opened it to make lunches last night.   Then I notice peanut butter stains on my carpet.  I had a large throw rug that I had shampooed on the deck yesterday.  I remembered it was still out on the deck last night around 10:00.  I rolled it up &amp; tossed it in the middle of the living room floor.  There was too much stuff on the floor to roll it out &amp;amp; I didn't want to move any of it.  Come on, it was after 10:00!  I notice peanut butter stains all over that too.  I give the Princess a bowl of peaches for lunch.  She had a cup of tiny Oreo's in Jewel for lunch.  The peaches were desert.  Oreo's are a food group aren't they?   I thought so.  Then I lugged the rug back outside &amp; shampooed it again.  I love havin' a dog.&lt;br /&gt;This same dog ate a bar of soap last week.  Yes a whole bar.  It was Dove in case you want to know.   Then she threw it up in the Princess's room.  She is a big dog so use your imagination on how big the pile was.   As I was cleaning it up I couldn't figure out why it was so bubbly.  At this point I have no idea what she ate.  Sometimes I think she just pukes to give me something to do.  It is always on a carpet too.  They do that on purpose.   Later that night Queenie wakes me up in the middle of the night(I have no idea why she was up in the middle of the night &amp;amp; I didn't ask) to tell me that the dog threw up twice downstairs in the family room.  On the rug of course. &lt;br /&gt;She said,"I think she ate a bar of soap."&lt;br /&gt;Light bulb goes on.  That's why it was so bubbly. I told her I would deal with it tomorrow.  There was no way I was getting out of bed to clean up dog puke.  It will wait for me.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this is not the first time this dog has eaten soap.  She is 7 &amp; in her lifetime she has probably eaten 10 bars of soap.  It is really irritating when I put a brand new bar in the tub &amp;amp; she eats it.  We didn't even get it wet yet!  I am going to have to contact Dove to see what they put in their soap to make it so tasty.  You would think that after the first bite she would realize that this doesn't taste very good.   But no.  Not the Wonder Dog.  She will eat ANYTHING &amp; she has proven it in the past.&lt;br /&gt;Here is a list of things I know she has eaten over the years:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dove soap&lt;br /&gt;Bread, including the wrapper-any kind not picky&lt;br /&gt;crayons&lt;br /&gt;markers&lt;br /&gt;plastic butter bowls licked clean of any butter&lt;br /&gt;electric cord off a heater(not plugged in at the time)&lt;br /&gt;peanut butter jars&lt;br /&gt;tennis shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has also figured out where the bread drawer is.  If we leave any of the wrapper hanging out of the drawer she will work at it until she manages to get the whole drawer open &amp;amp; clean it out.  The kids are famous for this.  Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I love havin' a dog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a Wonder Dog like mine?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-1748545771152496424?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/1748545771152496424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=1748545771152496424' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1748545771152496424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/1748545771152496424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/bailey-wonder-dog.html' title='Bailey the Wonder Dog'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645498263993872766.post-5526160449090175880</id><published>2007-09-04T16:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T13:42:12.470-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cast of Characters</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I have always wanted to have a blog so today(while I am supposed to be cleaning) I decided to start one.&lt;br /&gt;Today is the first day of school.  Yea!  I did the Happy Dance  as soon as I was sure they couldn't see me. I don't think I was the only one doing the Happy Dance.  I thought I saw one of my neighbors dance by her window.   I have big plans today. I am going to clean house.  We have had a lot going on in the past 3 weeks.  My FIL had to be hospitalized so lots of time was spent in the hospital visiting him &amp; keeping Mom company.  My house suffered because of it.  I'm glad I was able to spend as much time in the hospital with him as I did, but no one took up the slack here at the house.  Of course I did not leave COMPLETE instructions(I mean directions) for my 4 kids.   So it's my fault.   My kids are 18,15,13 &amp;amp; 3.  Yes I know the last one was a surprise.  We love her dearly but she was the biggest shock of my lifetime!&lt;br /&gt;Now in my dreams my wonderful kids cleaned the house &amp; made dinner all while lovingly watching over their baby sister.  Ha!  Like that happened.  This is what really happened.&lt;br /&gt;Cast of Characters:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Smitty&lt;/span&gt;-18 years old&lt;br /&gt;He likes to work on cars &amp; get really messy &amp;amp; greasy.  Then he cleans up in his bathroom leaving all of the grease all over the sink.    He will tell you that he can put in the new motor or whatever it is &amp; it will only take 5 minutes.  His idea &amp;amp; my idea of 5 minutes are not the same.  Mine is actually 5 minutes &amp; his is about a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Queenie&lt;/span&gt;-15&lt;br /&gt;She is the teenage drama Queen.  She is sometimes so sweet I wonder what happened to my real daughter.  Then I ask her to pass the salt &amp; the real Queenie stands up.  She can have a melt down over the dumbest(I mean most crucial) stuff.  You know the type.  She has also spent most of the summer sleeping.  This is the same kid that didn't want to go to Drum Corp camp because she would waste her summer.  Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Spike&lt;/span&gt;-13&lt;br /&gt;He is a pretty easy going kid.  Loves to play football &amp; run track.  Most of the time he will do what you ask him to without having a fit about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Princess-3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Otherwise known as "Her Royal Highness".&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;We Know who really rules the house &amp; it's not me.   A few months before her 3rd birthday she began telling anyone who would listen that she was going to be a "True Princess" on her birthday.  Not just your everyday ordinary princess but a TRUE princess.  Now this is a chick who knows what she wants!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my hospital visits.  I wake up Spike &amp;amp; tell him that he has to keep an eye on the Princess because I have to go to the hospital.  I will be gone all day so please remember to feed her lunch &amp; put her down for a nap. then it starts.   "I'm not gonna watch her all by myself you have to make Queenie help."  I go to wake up Queenie &amp;amp; all I get is a grunt from somewhere under the covers.  All I can see of her is a toe.   When I tell her to get up she whines at me.  I love this.  Then I ask her to at least move to the couch so the Princess is not alone in the living room.  So she drags all her covers off her bed &amp; goes to sleep on the couch.  Not exactly what I had in mind but it will work.  Then I make sure Spike is up.    Someone should really be up &amp;amp; moving before I leave the house.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Smitty works all day so he is not an option here.  I leave &amp; am gone most of the day.  I check in several times &amp;amp; yes they did remember to feed the Princess &amp; put her down for a nap.  Good.  But later when I come home I find all of Queenie's blankets still on the couch &amp;amp; the house looking like it threw up.  Apparently Queenie slept until almost 1:00.  Just in time to put the Princess down for her nap.  Then of course there was nothing to do so she chatted online to her friends who were just getting up too.  I wanna be 15 again!&lt;br /&gt;So today I am trying to find the house.  It is also the day I change the sheets on everyones beds.  I tried having the kids change their own sheets but that didn't work out.  Yep you guessed it, they didn't change them at all.  Yuck.  So know whether they need it or not all sheets get changed every week.  My washer is working overtime today!&lt;br /&gt;I have spent enough time playing around now I have to finish cleaning or at least make it look like I did something before the kids &amp; DH get home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5645498263993872766-5526160449090175880?l=ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/feeds/5526160449090175880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5645498263993872766&amp;postID=5526160449090175880' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5526160449090175880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5645498263993872766/posts/default/5526160449090175880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ohlooksparklies.blogspot.com/2007/09/cast-of-characters.html' title='Cast of Characters'/><author><name>Mom of 4</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08088147205896086757</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>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
