<?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-20914752</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:54:36.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Were We Thinking?</title><subtitle type='html'>Tales From The Toddler Trenches</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114395959550895152</id><published>2006-04-01T22:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T22:33:15.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of the Day</title><content type='html'>Watching Jack and Jesse stomp around in the puddles in the back yard.&lt;br /&gt;We got a few hours without rain today- finally- so we let the boys play out in the back yard for a while. Jack was dressed, but Jesse was still in his footie pajamas. Before you knew it they were both kicking around in a big puddle of water on the cement patio. They were getting soaked, but I just let them play on. That's what being a boy is all about. They had a great time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114395959550895152?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114395959550895152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114395959550895152' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114395959550895152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114395959550895152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/04/cutest-moment-of-day.html' title='Cutest Moment of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114395935603905434</id><published>2006-04-01T22:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T22:29:16.056-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss Me??</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2148/2109/1600/quiet_small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2148/2109/320/quiet_small.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while since my last entry. I've been a digital scrapbooking maniac. Obsessed for sure. I just finished a 4 week Digital Elite Team contest- of which I lost- boo hoo. Actually, truth be told, I'm a little glad that I didn't win. Since the contest, I've been designing better than ever with kits and elements from all over the place. If I had won the contest I would have been limited to certain page kits and that would be just too restricting for me right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also can't wait to paper scrap again. I think the digital stuff is really going to improve my paper craft as well. &lt;br /&gt;Here's a digi page I did tonight called a rare moment of quiet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114395935603905434?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114395935603905434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114395935603905434' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114395935603905434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114395935603905434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/04/miss-me.html' title='Miss Me??'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114213473060465896</id><published>2006-03-11T19:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-11T19:38:50.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of the Day</title><content type='html'>Today Jack was asking for a video called, "If you're Happy in your nose." I couldn't figure out what the heck he was talking about. He just kept saying, "if you're happy in your nose." Then I finally figured out that he was trying to say, "if you're happy and you know it." You know the song. So now that song will always be "if you're happy in your nose."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114213473060465896?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114213473060465896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114213473060465896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114213473060465896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114213473060465896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/03/cutest-moment-of-day.html' title='Cutest Moment of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114213435948061865</id><published>2006-03-11T19:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-11T19:35:34.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been a while</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2148/2109/1600/blueeyes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2148/2109/320/blueeyes.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while I've been able to post here. I've had carpel tunnel (sp?) problems because I like to sit in bed with my laptop. It's been getting better, but I'm probably reinjuring it right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're off to Disneyland tomorrow. I'm so excited. Disneyland is my "happy" place. Jack has already been there 6 times, but I'm very excited to see him there this time because he really "gets" it. He remembers the rides and he's been studying his Disneyland map. I can't tell him that we are actually going tomorrow though, or he won't sleep tonight. We'll tell him in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got our new digital camera just in time too. I love it. At 7 megapixels, it takes incredibly clear pics. I'll load one up that I took of Jack today at La Tapatia restaurant. His eyes are just incredible to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll write again when we return from the Happiest Place on Earth!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114213435948061865?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114213435948061865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114213435948061865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114213435948061865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114213435948061865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/03/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s been a while'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114111074975223907</id><published>2006-02-27T23:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T23:12:29.770-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote of the Day</title><content type='html'>I was at Target today with Jack and Jesse. We were returning to the van and I was loading them in. Jack pointed at a nearby tree and asked, "what are those momma?" He was pointing at the spikey seed balls fell from the tree. There were bunches of them on the ground from today's storm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "those are the seeds that fell off the tree." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He immediately replied, "You have to put the "beads" back on the tree and fix it momma. You have to fix it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was genuinely concerned for the tree. In Jack's world nothing should ever be broken. It really upsets him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114111074975223907?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114111074975223907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114111074975223907' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114111074975223907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114111074975223907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/quote-of-day.html' title='Quote of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114093030391970776</id><published>2006-02-25T21:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T21:05:03.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of the Day</title><content type='html'>Todays cutest moment came first thing this morning. Jesse woke at 6:30 this morning so I brought him into bed with us. Jack came in shortly afterwards and climbed up on the bed and jumped up and on top of me with a thud. This single action gave Jesse a fit of the belly laughs. He laughed about as hard as I've ever heard him. So Jack decided to do it again, and again, and again, and again. Each time making Jesse laugh just as hard. I had to just sustain the pain of him jumping on top of me because it was just too darn cute to hear them laugh together like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114093030391970776?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114093030391970776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114093030391970776' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114093030391970776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114093030391970776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/cutest-moment-of-day_25.html' title='Cutest Moment of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114093005420299680</id><published>2006-02-25T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T21:00:54.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How did I do it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2148/2109/1600/lilhands.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2148/2109/320/lilhands.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow today, between all the bottles, laundry, poopy diapers, 20 little fingers trying to type on my keyboard and playing thomas trains, I was able to complete this digital layout. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a good day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114093005420299680?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114093005420299680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114093005420299680' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114093005420299680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114093005420299680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/how-did-i-do-it.html' title='How did I do it?'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114082496537685157</id><published>2006-02-24T15:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T15:49:25.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of Yesterday</title><content type='html'>Jack didn't want to take a bath, so we let him slide rather than put up the fight. He climbed up on the bed and laid down next to me. I asked him why he didn't want to take a bath and he replied, "I can't sweetie. It's just too hard for me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny, funny little boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114082496537685157?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114082496537685157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114082496537685157' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114082496537685157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114082496537685157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/cutest-moment-of-yesterday.html' title='Cutest Moment of Yesterday'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114082485387019370</id><published>2006-02-24T15:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T15:47:33.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunny Days Ahead</title><content type='html'>The fog has lifted. Yeah! We are out of our flu infested funk. Dare I say that we are all healthy once again. I hope we stay this way for a while. Life has returned to normal- laundry, picking up stuff off the floor, breakfast, lunch, dinner and doing the corresponding dishes, diapers, diapers, diapers, etc. etc. Ah everyday life...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114082485387019370?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114082485387019370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114082485387019370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114082485387019370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114082485387019370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/sunny-days-ahead.html' title='Sunny Days Ahead'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-114027395446808516</id><published>2006-02-18T06:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T06:45:54.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dark Stormy Days Ahead</title><content type='html'>It's been one of the rougher weeks. I was going to skip writing until the fog around here lifted, but since I did intend to write about the good, bad and ugly, I should stick to it. So here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 6:30 am on Sat. morning. I've been officially awake with Jesse since 5am after being up with Jack 5 times last night. I don't know what was wrong. He seemed to have a lot of bad dreams or something. Tom is sick now too, which means there's a lot of moaning an groaning coming from our bedroom. Maybe that's it. Jack's little world gets shaken very easily. If anything goes off course we are doomed for an awful night. I'm barely over the flu myself. Someone told me that this flu lasts a week. If only I had the luxury of being able to be sick for a week. As the mom I don't get that option. 24 hours is all I get at best. You know it's pretty bad when you are wishing you had more time to be SICK. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having one of those times when I wonder just how much more I can take. I'm feeling very down about the whole parenting thing. I remember an Oprah show about 2 years ago when she had a female author on who wrote a book about post partum depression and tried to tell the truth about parenting. I remember her statement was that "it sucks 90% of the time."  I remember thinking then that she was crazy and how could she feel that way. The audience had the same reaction. Well I can say now that she probably wrote her book after a week like I've had this past week. That's exactly what I feel right now. In fact maybe it's more like 95% of the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I would ever drive my car over a bridge or anything, but I could definitely have some empathy for those mothers who chose to do that. They were depressed and didn't know how to talk about it and no one took the time to notice how depressed they were or took the time to offer any help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not depressed. I've been depressed and I know the difference. And don't worry, I won't be driving my van into any trees or anything. It's just been an incredibly hard week with all this sickness and lack of sleep. It feels like we won't come out of the fog, but I know it will lift. It always does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-114027395446808516?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/114027395446808516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=114027395446808516' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114027395446808516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/114027395446808516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/dark-stormy-days-ahead.html' title='Dark Stormy Days Ahead'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113980401543158865</id><published>2006-02-12T20:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T20:14:49.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cold and Flu Season- again.</title><content type='html'>We're in germsville once again. Jack and Jesse both have colds and on again, off again fevers. It just breaks my heart when they have a fever. I don't even have to get the thermometer out to know. You can just see it in their little eyes. Jack's are the worst. Maybe because his eyes are so light blue. They get all red and watery and his eyelids hang at half-mast. His face gets all red and blotchy too. On the plus side, it's the only time he really stops moving and just lays on the couch. He also asks to go to bed. That's when I KNOW he doesn't feel good. He would never ask to go to bed under normal circumstances. Jesse just wanders around in circles blurting out little crabby cries. His eyes get watery too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my happy little mischievious mess-maker boys back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113980401543158865?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113980401543158865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113980401543158865' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113980401543158865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113980401543158865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/cold-and-flu-season-again.html' title='Cold and Flu Season- again.'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113955386841036140</id><published>2006-02-09T22:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T22:44:28.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Way Cutest Moment of the Day</title><content type='html'>Driving to the park today (before tandem bike riding disaster- see below), I was playing the new CD I made of Disneyland Music and the music from the Tiki Room was playing. You know the one... In the Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki room. In the Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki room... I look back and Jack is singing along with the music and Jesse is moving left and right in his car seat to the music. So I turned up the volume and we all "sang" it together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so happy singing along with my little Disney buddies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113955386841036140?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113955386841036140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113955386841036140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113955386841036140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113955386841036140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/way-cutest-moment-of-day.html' title='Way Cutest Moment of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113955343017320632</id><published>2006-02-09T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T22:39:51.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Honesty.</title><content type='html'>Tonight before Jack went to bed we were sitting on the couch watching Dancing With The Stars. He loves to applaud after each dance. He turned to me and looked straight at me and said, "Mommy, you need to get a hair cut." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn that Lisa Renna and her cute hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least he didn't tell me that I need to go to the gym.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113955343017320632?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113955343017320632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113955343017320632' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113955343017320632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113955343017320632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/simple-honesty.html' title='Simple Honesty.'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113955254963492696</id><published>2006-02-09T22:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T22:22:29.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are we having fun yet?</title><content type='html'>Here's just one example why having 2 under 3 is really tough. Today I decided to be super cool mommy. Why? I don't know. I must have had a sudden burst of energy. I only got 5 hours sleep last night, so I don't know where this energy could have come from. Anyway...I decided to bring the tandem tricycle to the park- see photo and entry below. This was a different park though with nice paved walkways, but with some slight inclines. Uh oh. This one small factor changed the whole tandem riding experience. Ok, so we get to the park, I set up Jack with his helmet in the front seat of the trike, set up Jesse in the back seat with his ever so cute Pooh Bear helmet, buckle him in and off they go. They get about 10 feet and Jack heads up his first SLIGHT incline. He can't pedal hard enough and starts freaking out. He starts SCREAMING at the top of his lungs. (for those of you who know Jack, you know what this sounds like). I give him a push from behind to help him along and just as Jack stops sreaming, Jesse starts screaming- picking up on his big brothers emotions all too well- and starts squirming out of the seat. Ok, this is not going so well. I take Jesse out of the bike seat and put him back in the stroller. He is still screaming because he doesn't want to be in the stroller now. Meanwhile, Jack has peddaled along and hit another SLIGHT incline and now he's screaming again. By this time all the other mommys at the park, who wisely chose to be regular ol' mommys and just let their kids play in the playground, are staring and glaring at me as if I am poking my kids with red hot sticks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We no sooner get halfway around the walkway and another toddler approaches Jack's bike and Jack starts yelling at him, NO! MY BIKE! NO! MY BIKE! What flashes through my mind?, 'Oh my God. I have the spoiled brat kid at the park. How did this happen?? I used to loathe kids like this and now I have one.'  Meanwhile, just before this new outburst, I let Jesse out of the stroller to walk around and of course he wants to walk everywhere EXCEPT in the playground. He's walking across the lawn, down the hill, towards the bathrooms, back towards the car. No matter how many times I turn him around to walk towards the playground, he walks in the other direction, like some weird gravitational force is pulling him away from the playground. Which direction do I go in? towards the screaming 2.5+ yr. old or my 1 yr. old escape artist?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't try this at home!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113955254963492696?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113955254963492696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113955254963492696' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113955254963492696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113955254963492696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/are-we-having-fun-yet.html' title='Are we having fun yet?'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113946940141651210</id><published>2006-02-08T23:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T23:17:52.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cleaning Blackhole</title><content type='html'>I've discovered the 8th wonder of the world. How can it be that when you are living with two toddlers, the more you clean up, the messier the house is?? This is a complete phenomenon to me. I swear I will pick up all the toys, various doo-dads the kids toddle out with from other rooms, like one sock, a VHS tape, the scotch tape, a pen, a toothbrush, one snow boot, a stapler, a towel from the bathroom, etc. etc. not to mention all the little plastic toys. And just as I put the last item away, I turn around and there's a whole selection of new doo-dads and toys laying all over the house. This happens everyday. Little Jesse now follows me around the house as I pick things up and right behind me is redistributing various items all over the house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could spend the whole day doing nothing else but picking things up off the floor and it would still never be clean. Amazing isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113946940141651210?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113946940141651210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113946940141651210' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113946940141651210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113946940141651210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/cleaning-blackhole.html' title='The Cleaning Blackhole'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113942394372194395</id><published>2006-02-08T10:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T10:39:03.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of the Day</title><content type='html'>Today's cutest moment came first thing this morning. As I was getting Jack dressed for preschool. He looked at me and with his cutest squishy smile said, "how about I stay home and you go to school?" and kept smiling and nodding like- yeah, yeah, how about it? I just started cracking up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh if only I could leave them home alone, I'd gladly go to preschool for the day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113942394372194395?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113942394372194395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113942394372194395' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113942394372194395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113942394372194395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/cutest-moment-of-day.html' title='Cutest Moment of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113895161893785342</id><published>2006-02-02T23:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T23:26:58.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of Every Day</title><content type='html'>Jesse's big wide smile just melts my heart. Every day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113895161893785342?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113895161893785342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113895161893785342' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113895161893785342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113895161893785342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/cutest-moment-of-every-day.html' title='Cutest Moment of Every Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113894886382344639</id><published>2006-02-02T22:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T22:41:03.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm HOT?</title><content type='html'>I can't believe this happened to me tonight and since it's kind of awkward to tell this story outloud, I had to rush to my laptop to write it here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I were out to dinner tonight. My husband watched the boys at home- so great of him. I haven't been out with my sister in I don't know how long. Heck, I haven't been out to dinner without my kids in I don't know how long. Anyway... I wore a new outfit that has been sitting in my closet for months collecting dust waiting for the moment it might actually get worn out in public. Nothing fancy, just a green sweater and funky green plaid pants and a pair of matching green mules. Yes, I like to follow the trends and green is in right now. We're having a very nice dinner and chatting away about all kinds of things non-kid related, which was refreshing to say the least, when all of a sudden this man comes up to our table and says to me, "excuse me, but I know the owner of the restaurant and we were just talking over there and he said I shouldn't say this to you, but I just had to say it. You are HOT." I couldn't believe my ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "me? really?" and he said it again, "yes, you are so HOT." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In embarrassment I started to laugh as I casually looked around for the hidden cameras as I was sure this was some sort of prank or something. Then in my laughter I realized he was serious and I replied, "wow! thank you so much. I'm a mom of 2 little boys and I just don't hear that at all. Well my husband tells me that (had to through the "my husband" line in there to make sure he didn't decided to pursue hitting on me) but I never hear it from anyone else. Thank you so much, you really made my week." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "well they (pointing to his friends at the bar) told me not to say anything, but I just had to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "thanks again. You really don't know how much I needed to hear that." And off he went. That's all he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not telling this story because I have an enflated ego or anything. It's just that when your a mom doing the mom thing day in and day out and you're exhausted because you haven't had a decent nights sleep in weeks or years, and you've wiped spit off from your sleeve for the hundreth time and taken the used kleenex's out of your pockets, you start to feel like just another mom in sweat pants, a pony tail and bags under her eyes. That since of self, looking at all attractive, that feeling that you could catch a man's eye if you wanted to, is just so foreign and far away. You're not a woman, you're a mom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That stranger doesn't even know what he did for me tonight. It was a simple gesture and I believe he meant it and maybe he was hoping to hit on me, but he has no idea how his words affected me. For one moment I was reminded that I am a woman. And I don't know if I'm Hot, but I do clean up well. It was a good feeling to be reminded of who I was before sippy cups, diapers, temper tantrums and gold fish crackers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you kind stranger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I hear Jack crying in his room. Back to being a mommy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113894886382344639?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113894886382344639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113894886382344639' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113894886382344639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113894886382344639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/im-hot.html' title='I&apos;m HOT?'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113885673166017799</id><published>2006-02-01T20:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T21:08:45.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay so I get both kids down for a nap and I'm really tired too, but instead of napping myself, I decide I'm going to try to get a little scrapbooking done. I'm sure I have at least an hour before one of them wakes up. I've been trying to start this cool accordian folded Valentine's card idea - a surprise gift for hubby. I get all my tools out on the table, I get my paper out, my various embellishments. I have my design idea worked out and ready to go. I get half way through the first panel of the card and it's looking really nice. I check the clock- still at least a half hour to go. All is quiet down the hall. I'm into this project and I like where it's going. I can't believe the kids are still sleeping and I'm actually going to get something done here. When all of a sudden I hear the electric garage door open up. What?! Oh no. Tom is home early from work. It's only 3:30! What the heck is he doing home. I frantically rush around the kitchen table, like a woman caught cheating with the pool boy, scooping up paper, pens, ribbon, rub-on letters, as fast as I can before he comes in. I get enough of it put away that he has no idea what I'm working on. He walks by me and as calmly as I can I say. "Hi, you're home early." He says, yeah, I don't feel so good." and he walks right past me without so much as a glance to the kitchen table. I'm sure that I could have left everything out and he wouldn't have even noticed. Makes me wonder...if a handsome yet scantily clad pool boy were next to me, would he have noticed that??&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, so much for trying to get something creative done around here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113885673166017799?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113885673166017799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113885673166017799' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113885673166017799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113885673166017799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/02/okay-so-i-get-both-kids-down-for-nap.html' title=''/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113851587451492694</id><published>2006-01-28T22:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-28T22:24:34.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moments of the Day</title><content type='html'>I was sitting on the couch with the boys watching the Jungle Book. Jack got up off the couch, turned around, looked at me and asked, "are you cold Mommy?" I answered, "well, actually yes, I am a little cold." He then went over to the basket of blankets and got one and covered me up with it. He can be such a sweetie some times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching Jesse toddle all over the toddler area at the Jungle. He just barrels through life without a care and always looks up at the nearest adult and flashes the biggest smile. I hope he always retains his fun-loving, happy little attitude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113851587451492694?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113851587451492694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113851587451492694' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113851587451492694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113851587451492694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/cutest-moments-of-day_28.html' title='Cutest Moments of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113851544589646785</id><published>2006-01-28T22:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-28T22:17:25.993-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Fantasy- a Nocturnal Nanny</title><content type='html'>Here's my fantasy... I wish I could hire a nanny to work the graveyard shift- only. In this fantasy, a very kind Mary Poppins type woman would arrive at our door at 10 pm. With a smile, she would enter our home and shoo my husband and I off to bed, "No worries dears, you go now and have a wonderful nights sleep. Sweet Dreams." My husband and I would retire to our bedroom and relax, read, maybe some other bedtime activities and fall into blissful slumber, resting assured that we will get a full nights sleep. Miss Mary Poppins would then stay up all night, maybe reading on the couch or quietly watching her favorite late night TV shows. Here's how she would earn her pay. If one or both boys woke up in the middle of the night, she would immediately enter their rooms, pat their backs, sooth them, stay awake with them as long as it takes for them to fall back to sleep- according to our past experience, this could take anywhere from 1 to 3 hours. If a one of them were to get sick in the middle of the night, Miss Mary would cheerfully clean up the mess, do the laundry and stay with them through the night if needed. All while Mommy and Daddy get there full 8 hours of sleep. Miss Mary would turn the coffee pot on before leaving at 7 am, with a cheerful goodbye until we see her again that night.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey it's my fantasy. I can dream can't I??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113851544589646785?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113851544589646785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113851544589646785' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113851544589646785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113851544589646785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-fantasy-nocturnal-nanny.html' title='My Fantasy- a Nocturnal Nanny'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113808183968495199</id><published>2006-01-23T21:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T21:50:39.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of the Day</title><content type='html'>Jack discovered his shadow tonight. Before bedtime we had lots of fun playing shadows on the wall. Ah the simple things...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113808183968495199?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113808183968495199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113808183968495199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113808183968495199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113808183968495199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/cutest-moment-of-day_23.html' title='Cutest Moment of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113808173511995597</id><published>2006-01-23T21:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T21:48:55.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Grandpa's House We Go</title><content type='html'>Went to Grandpa's house this evening for dinner. Grandpa lives about 45 min. away so we don't go there as often as I would like, but I think we should definitely go there more. The boys were so well behaved. Jack ate all his dinner- for the first time in a month. The boys were actually playing together, instead of crying and whining together like they do at home. Jack only had 4 trains and Jesse had 1 wooden bead and wire thingy to play with there, so they were forced to interact. Makes me think that we probably have way too many toys at home. Maybe I should put most of the toys away and see what happens. No, too scary. I'm not brave enough for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa cooked dinner for us, did the dishes and served ME a cup of coffee. Definitely a first!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113808173511995597?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113808173511995597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113808173511995597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113808173511995597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113808173511995597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/to-grandpas-house-we-go.html' title='To Grandpa&apos;s House We Go'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113799002956267305</id><published>2006-01-22T20:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T20:21:49.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of the Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2148/2109/1600/bikeride.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2148/2109/320/bikeride.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed off to the park today after adding the tandem seat to Jack's tricycle. Wasn't sure how Jesse would take to it, especially the helmet, but he LOVED it. He really liked riding with his big brother. They were SO CUTE together and they turned heads all over the park. It was a fun day and what great weather!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113799002956267305?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113799002956267305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113799002956267305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113799002956267305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113799002956267305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/cutest-moment-of-day_22.html' title='Cutest Moment of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113786788793204069</id><published>2006-01-21T10:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-21T10:24:47.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a note</title><content type='html'>This is a post I put on a Mom's bulletin board in response to our children being forced to read in kindergarten and whether that is good or bad. The discussion took a turn to reflect on how are children are growing up differently than we did. I just liked what I wrote and thought I would also post it here for posperity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think in general and in all ways kids today are forced to grow up &lt;br /&gt;faster than we did. When we were young our moms sent us outside to play &lt;br /&gt;with the neighborhood kids- unsupervised. That just doesn't happen &lt;br /&gt;today. We didn't have any electronics, no VCR's, DVD's, computers, &lt;br /&gt;gameboys, ipods, leap frogs, etc. etc. We had to be creative with our &lt;br /&gt;toys and talk for them, they didn't talk to us. There were no scheduled &lt;br /&gt;play dates. The only kids who went to preschool were the ones whom both &lt;br /&gt;parents worked and/or could afford it. Now if you don't go to &lt;br /&gt;preschool, you're not going to college- according to the TV &lt;br /&gt;commercials. What about the kid whose family just can't afford &lt;br /&gt;preschool? Are they doomed to drop out of school?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a completely different world that our kids are growing up in. I &lt;br /&gt;don't know if it's better or worse, but it is what it is. There is no &lt;br /&gt;going back, unless you want to move to Alaska. But we live in the Bay &lt;br /&gt;Area- one of the most technically advanced places in the country. They &lt;br /&gt;are marketing cell phones to 6 year olds now. Geez, how did we ever &lt;br /&gt;survive without that growing up? It's a crazy, super-fast paced world &lt;br /&gt;we live in. So it's up to us as parents to slow down ourselves and &lt;br /&gt;teach our little ones to enjoy smelling a flower, to make a puppet out &lt;br /&gt;of a sock, to watch a worm crawl - and to enjoy reading a good book.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113786788793204069?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113786788793204069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113786788793204069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113786788793204069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113786788793204069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/just-note.html' title='Just a note'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113765839514352471</id><published>2006-01-19T00:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T00:13:15.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of the Day</title><content type='html'>As I start to cook dinner, Jack comes up to the stove and asks, "Mommy, I help you?" and he proceeds to pull up a chair to the stove and climbs up. He says, "I stir it" and stirs the noodles. Then he proudly announces, "I cooking dinner." - and 5 seconds later he is off the chair and back to playing with his trains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesse can only shake his head "no". He answers everything by shaking his head "no". Today I asked him if he wanted to take a nap and as usual he shook his head no, then he stopped and very slowly nodded "yes"- a first!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113765839514352471?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113765839514352471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113765839514352471' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113765839514352471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113765839514352471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/cutest-moment-of-day_19.html' title='Cutest Moment of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113760629866228835</id><published>2006-01-18T09:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T09:44:58.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a Sun Shiny Day...</title><content type='html'>Ah, back to normal at last! And as I look out the window, the rain has cleared and the sun is shining. I've joined the land of the living again and it feels great. Jack is off to preschool and Jesse is napping. I've cleaned the house up and Jesse is still napping! When you're a parent, it's definitely the little things that count. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;normalcy... It's a good thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113760629866228835?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113760629866228835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113760629866228835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113760629866228835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113760629866228835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/its-sun-shiny-day.html' title='It&apos;s a Sun Shiny Day...'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113753850167868718</id><published>2006-01-17T14:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T14:55:01.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Sickness and in Health -part 2</title><content type='html'>It was bound to happen. I came down with the same stomach flu the boys had recently. It started at 9:30 pm and ended about 4 am. Needless to say, I am wiped out. This is one of the most challenging parts of parenting. What do you do when you yourself are sick? I couldn't even lift Jesse because I was so weak. Luckily, a friend picked up Jack and took him to a playdate for a few hours. I turned a video on for Jesse while he was safe in his crib so I could close my eyes for a half hour. I called my older sister for help, but she was too busy today with her retired life. She had to attend her painting class. Then after closing my eyes for a half hour I get the mail and there's a letter addressed to me from my father-in-law. In it is an article stating that babies should not watch any TV before age 2. I was so offended that he would send this to me- not to Tom and me- just to me, that I wanted to cry. Overly sensitive? Maybe. But I think it's really rude of someone to send their parenting opinions from across the country (he lives in Boston). Especially someone who divorced his wife and moved all the way across said country when his son was 4 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... both boys are napping now and I will do the same. One thing they don't tell you when you are trying to get pregnant is how many colds and flus you will have to suffer through. Germs become your life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where's my bed??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113753850167868718?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113753850167868718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113753850167868718' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113753850167868718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113753850167868718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/in-sickness-and-in-health-part-2.html' title='In Sickness and in Health -part 2'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113738572714789023</id><published>2006-01-15T20:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-15T22:12:24.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moment of the Day</title><content type='html'>Jack has become obsessed with his nipples. Every time we change his shirt he has to touch them and go look in the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;Today when he had his shirt off, I noticed he didn't make a comment about them, so I asked him, "hey, how are your nipples today?" He put his little fingers on them and replied, "they feel goooooooood."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was our one laugh-out-loud moment in our very long day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113738572714789023?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113738572714789023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113738572714789023' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113738572714789023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113738572714789023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/cutest-moment-of-day.html' title='Cutest Moment of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113738538005519150</id><published>2006-01-15T20:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-15T20:25:13.196-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Sickness and in Health</title><content type='html'>Jesse woke up last night about 10:30 pm vomiting. It seems he's caught the bug Jack had 5 days ago. Poor baby. I hate their first "sick". It's just so sad because they don't understand what's going on. Luckily when it was over he went right back to sleep. It was a rough night though. I moved his crib mattress next to our bed on the floor and piled pillows around him. He woke again at midnight and again at 2 am. Then it was over. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. Tom pretty much slept through the entire thing. I don't know how men can do that. I guess it must be nice to have such peace of mind to just turn off any concern because you know someone else will take care of it. I wish I could do that sometimes. But mothers just aren't wired that way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily it's a quick bug. By morning, Jesse was a lot better. Not much of an appetite though. That's just how Jack was last week when he had it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of our day was filled with a lot of whining and crying. Jesse was out of sorts, wanting to be held a lot and Jack just decided to chime in with his own constant whining. I guess he was getting jealous of any extra attention given to Jesse. Tom and I just looked at each other. It was one of those "is it over yet?" kind of days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only good thing about a day like today is that you know tomorrow will be better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113738538005519150?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113738538005519150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113738538005519150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113738538005519150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113738538005519150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/in-sickness-and-in-health.html' title='In Sickness and in Health'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113720886752083604</id><published>2006-01-13T19:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T19:21:07.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Moments of the Day</title><content type='html'>Jack asking me at dinner in his little voice, "Mommy, do you want something to drink? Milk? Water? Apple Juice?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing Jesse laugh as he walks around the house holding a ball in his hand. (He just started to walk about 2 weeks ago)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113720886752083604?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113720886752083604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113720886752083604' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113720886752083604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113720886752083604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/cutest-moments-of-day.html' title='Cutest Moments of the Day'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113719169928770616</id><published>2006-01-13T08:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T14:34:59.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired and True</title><content type='html'>My 2.5 yr. old, Jack, woke up last night at 2:30 am. He wasn't crying. He opened his door, walked into the living room, grabbed his sippy cup and calmly walked into my bedroom and asked, "Where's Daddy?". Even at 2:30 am he can amaze me.&lt;br /&gt;Tom has been gone skiing since yesterday afternoon and now at this hour Jack decides to realize that Daddy isn't here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm convinced that my two little boys are practicing for some future track team relay race. They will never both sleep through the night. They tag team every night. Last night, after questioning the whereabouts of his father, Jack slept in until 7:45am.-- normally, an unheard of event. But as if they had preplanned this the night before, Jesse woke at 5:30 and would not go back to sleep. Usually Jack is the early riser, but last night they pulled a switch-a-roo. So after waking up at 2:30 with Jack to put him back to sleep, I was awake again at 5:30 with Jesse, watching him practice his walking around the living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 8:30 I dropped Jack off at preschool. At least I'll get half a break this morning. I returned home and just as I started to put Jesse down for his morning nap, the school called- Jack has diarrhea, please pick him up. So I snag Jesse out of the crib, put him in the carseat and off we go to pick up Jack. There will be no breaks for Mommy today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such is life right now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rene'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113719169928770616?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113719169928770616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113719169928770616' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113719169928770616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113719169928770616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/tired-and-true.html' title='Tired and True'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20914752.post-113713256456619350</id><published>2006-01-12T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T22:11:10.740-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First Entry- Home - not so - Alone</title><content type='html'>This is my very first Blog entry. What spawned the idea to do this? Believe it or not, it was a movie I watched yesterday with Heather Locklear and Hilary Duff- "The Perfect Man". In the movie, Hilary frequently wrote entries in her own blog. I had been hearing about this blog thing. But didn't quite understand. I'm a 39 yr. old mother of two boys- ages 32 months and 1 yr. Needless to say, I don't get out much. The tech world, which I used to be completely up on before giving birth, is now passing me by with the speed of light. But a quick Google search got me up to speed on this whole blogging thing. And 10 minutes later, here I am starting a blog of my own, while the boys are nestled snug in their beds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where's hubby you ask? He's away on an overnight ski trip with his best friend of 28 years. So here I sit in bed with my laptop delving into the blogging world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My intent is to journal about my life with two little boys who are 19 months apart. I hope to make it interesting and funny, because life around here is just that and so much more. I want to tell the truth about raising kids- the good, the bad and the ugly. So much of the bad and the ugly is tucked neatly away, by all mothers, never to be shared. So we always feel like we're the only ones who ever experienced this or that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I intend to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So help us all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20914752-113713256456619350?l=momoir.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/feeds/113713256456619350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20914752&amp;postID=113713256456619350' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113713256456619350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20914752/posts/default/113713256456619350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momoir.blogspot.com/2006/01/first-entry-home-not-so-alone.html' title='First Entry- Home - not so - Alone'/><author><name>Rene'</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10937841767816332991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://www.regaldesign.com/rene.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
