<?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-8435225790695885126</id><updated>2012-01-27T15:36:43.941-06:00</updated><category term='Photography Lessons'/><category term='Giveaways'/><category term='Activities'/><category term='Baby Bean'/><category term='Project 52'/><category term='Pregnancy'/><category term='Baby Making'/><category term='None'/><category term='Photo Essay'/><category term='Nugget List'/><category term='Parenting'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Alex'/><category term='Main Dish'/><category term='Desserts'/><category term='Exercise'/><category term='Home Projects'/><category term='Less Than Perfect'/><category term='Pregnancy #2'/><category term='Preeclampsia'/><category term='Development'/><category term='Weight Loss'/><category term='Lucy'/><category term='Appetizers'/><category term='Mister Bister'/><category term='Letters From Uterus'/><category term='Preemies'/><category term='Adulthood'/><category term='Crafts'/><category term='Miscarriage'/><category term='Anna Growing Up'/><category term='Unglam Mommy Club'/><category term='Travel'/><category term='Recalls'/><category term='Anna'/><category term='Nursery Rhymes'/><category term='My Life'/><category term='How To Tutorial'/><category term='Pregnancy #3'/><category term='Recipes'/><category term='Hermann Trip'/><category term='Mommy Tools'/><category term='Just For Fun'/><title type='text'>The Unglamorous Mommy</title><subtitle type='html'>Being perfect is boring.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>275</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4196351519480084419</id><published>2012-01-27T09:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-27T09:00:01.286-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Preemies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy #3'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mister Bister'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Bean'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Preeclampsia'/><title type='text'>And Then There Were Two - The Story of Luke's Birth</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Before I dive into (again) the saga that is Mister Bister’s birth story – I feel like I should offer a bit of a disclaimer and some background info. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t still peeved by how everything went down. I think you’ll understand when you read what happened. Which brings me to my first disclaimer … this post is going to be massive. True to my typical form, my little guy’s birth was quite eventful. And I feel like it’s my job to share the details and experiences with you. Which brings me to my second disclaimer … parts of this story could get a little graphic. Hell, it’s a birth story. It’s bound to be gory. If giving birth was pretty, then men would do it (and we all know that doesn’t happen). So, consider yourself warned on both counts.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In order for Mister Bister’s birth to make sense (and for you to understand the soap opera that I had to deal with) I need to fill you in on a little background. My regular prenatal care was provided by my regular OB. I will refer to him as Dr. Reg for the purpose of this post. My pregnancy was considered high risk due to Miss A’s preterm delivery, so I was also seeing a perinatologist or high risk OB. I will refer to him as Dr. HR. Dr. HR provided high risk care, which included ultrasounds and extra prenatal visits for monitoring. It was always the plan that I would see both doctors during my pregnancy. The doctors would be consulting with one another on my care, but Dr. Reg would deliver me. Ultimately, I was Dr. Reg’s patient – so he had final say in certain matters. Okay, the stage is set. Happy reading!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;As I last left it, my pregnancy was going fairly normal until about 34 weeks when I developed mild preeclampsia. Preeclampsia is a condition in pregnancy that causes the mom’s blood vessels to constrict. The result is high blood pressure and reduced blood flow to organs such as the kidneys, liver, brain, and uterus. The only cure for preeclampsia is delivery, and the condition will only get worse the longer that you have it. Dr. Reg and Dr. HR decided that the best plan was to try and keep me pregnant until 37 weeks and then induce. To do that, a fine line had to be walked. I was put on blood pressure medicine, anti-contraction medicine, and bedrest. The bedrest was making me die a slow death, but I was dealing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I had an appointment with Dr. HR when I was 35 weeks, 3 days. He was concerned about my blood pressure. It had slowly been creeping up and was hovering around 155/105. I was still considered mild, because severe preeclampsia is diagnosed when pressures reach 160/110. Mister Bister looked great via a biophysical ultrasound, and I had somewhat normal amounts of protein in my urine. A preterm induction was still not warranted, but Dr. HR was getting worried about my blood pressure. He was concerned that it would spike at any moment, which would be dangerous for me and the baby. He explained that the goal is to make it to 37 weeks because the baby’s lungs (which are the last thing to develop) are more likely to be mature. However, if you can prove that the lungs are mature at 36 weeks, then there is no benefit in waiting another week to deliver. The catch is that you have to perform an amniocentesis to prove lung maturity. An amnio at 36 weeks is a bit different than one at 16 weeks to check for abnormalities. Well, both involve sticking a long needle through your belly and into the uterus to get a sample of amniotic fluid. However, at 16 weeks there’s a risk of losing the pregnancy. When an amnio is done at 36 weeks, the baby can be delivered if there are any problems. Dr. HR suggested that I come to the hospital when I was 36 weeks, 0 days (the day after Thanksgiving) to be monitored and to possibly have an amnio. He also changed my medicine around so that my BP was being lowered, but contractions weren’t being prevented. If I went into labor on my own, they wouldn’t stop it and it might be for the best to deliver. We left the appointment feeling good. We had a plan and there was a light at the end of the tunnel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I called Dr. Reg to ask if I should get my 17-p (progesterone) injection that week. The 17-p shot is supposed to help with preterm labor, and Dr. HR was taking me off of medicines to prevent that. Dr. Reg initially ordered the 17-p injections, so it was his call if I should get another one. I also talked to him about the appointment with Dr. HR and told him about his idea to perform an amnio when I go in for monitoring. Dr. Reg was really confused by it all and told me that I shouldn’t do that. He said that I should go in for monitoring, but if my labs and tests came back normal – I would be sent home. He also told me to get the 17-p in order to prevent labor. I hung up the phone feeling confused and annoyed. In hindsight, that was just the tip of the iceberg. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I managed to bedrest my way through the week and Thanksgiving. At 9 am on Black Friday, while everyone else was out shopping, Beefcakes and I checked in at labor and delivery. My mother-in-law had driven up in order to watch Miss A for us. I was eventually taken back to a triage room where I gave a urine sample, had blood drawn, and was hooked up to the monitors. I had +1 protein in my urine and my blood work ended up being normal. Mister Bister’s heart rate was great and I wasn’t contracting. All signs looked like I was going home. Around 9:30, Dr. Reg came in to talk to us. He said that he spoke with Dr. HR during the week and that we would be seeing him once Dr. HR finished a case he was on. Dr. Reg then told me that I make both of them nervous because my body doesn’t tend to follow the rules. Ha! That’s a bit of an understatement. We were left to wait. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Around 10 am, I noticed that I was having some regular contractions. I looked at the monitor and realized that I was contracting every two minutes, and each contraction was lasting about 30 seconds. When I have contractions, I can’t feel them in my belly. I don’t have a tightening sensation or horrible cramping. Usually the only way I can tell that I’m having one is if I feel my stomach and it’s hard. However, when I have labor contractions – I have some discomfort in my back. (See above about my body not following the rules.) When the contractions started, I could instantly feel them in my back and they were steadily coming every 2 minutes. I was pretty positive that I was in labor. When my nurse came in to check on me, I told her my suspicion. This wasn’t my first rodeo after all! I explained that I needed to get antibiotics for being group B strep positive and that I dilate quickly. She explained that I wasn’t in labor – that I was probably dehydrated and needed to drink some water. So, I started downing glasses while we waited for Dr. HR. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;By 1pm, I was still contracting every 2 minutes and the back pain was getting increasingly painful. There was no doubt in my mind what was happening. Dr. HR had finished his surgery and came in to speak with us. He explained that he was confused because Dr. Reg told him that we didn’t want the amnio. I was confused, because that wasn’t the case at all. Red flag! Dr. HR asked if I was in labor because of my contraction patterns. I told him that I was certain I was. He explained that he believed me and he thought that I was, but that no one (Dr. Reg or my nurse) thought so. This is where things got a little confusing. Dr. HR thought that I was in labor, but we had to convince Dr. Reg that I was. Dr. HR suggested performing the amnio in order to test for lung maturity, but it would also help things along if my labor were to stall. See, they wouldn’t stop my labor at this point but they also wouldn’t help things along. However, if we could show that the lungs are mature, then they could augment and deliver regardless of what my labor does. Dr. HR checked me and I was dilated to a 3. Confirmation of what I already knew – I was in labor. Dr. HR didn’t want them to have any reason to send me home, so I had to show progression the next time I was checked. He reported that I was a 2 so that I would have ‘dilated more’ (even if there was actually no change) at the next check. Do you follow? Confusing, isn’t it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Dr. HR performed the amnio, which wasn’t too horribly bad. The sensation when he was pulling the fluid out was the strangest part. Don’t get me wrong – the needle going in didn’t feel great, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. We were left to wait for the results and continued to be monitored. The nurse informs me that having an amnio done can cause you to have contractions. I wasn’t sure how it can cause you to have contractions before it’s actually performed, since I wasn’t in labor in their minds. Magic, I guess. The nurse also told me that I wasn’t uncomfortable enough to actually be in labor. I guess she had a sixth sense for my pain level?!?! We waited some more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Let me do my best to paint the picture of my reality at this point. I had been at the hospital for 7 hours, 6 of which I was contracting every 2 minutes for 30 seconds each. My back pain had gone from easily manageable to having to breathe through each contraction. I was in a triage room on a stretcher (read: the most uncomfortable bed in the hospital next to the couches that they make the dads sleep on) this entire time. I couldn’t change positions because my contractions wouldn’t show up on the monitor. I couldn’t afford for my contractions to not show up because they already didn’t believe that was in labor – lack of recorded contractions would only confirm that for them. I was terrified that I would be sent home. So, I was forced to lie on the stretcher and somehow manage the onslaught of contractions. I was growing increasingly uncomfortable and angry. There was no doubt in my mind what was happening, so I called my family. They had a two hour drive to the hospital, and I didn’t want them to miss anything. In hindsight, I am so, so, so glad that I made that call. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I guess my nurse could tell that I was getting uncomfortable on the stretcher. It’s that sixth sense she has… So, she decided to move me to a labor room. I asked her if she was finally admitting that I was in labor. She said that I wasn’t in labor, but that she wanted me to have a comfortable bed. Oh, and she wanted to start an IV to give me fluids. Those pesky dehydration contractions just wouldn’t go away. I asked her to check me, and she begrudgingly gave in. She tells me that I haven’t changed – I’m still a 2. I was furious. If you recall, I was never a 2. It was just something that Dr. HR told her in order to help me out and it backfired horribly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Around 6pm, the back pain was getting to be on the verge of unbearable. I couldn’t get comfortable and there was no relief. I was still having contractions every 2 minutes, so I wasn’t getting very much downtime between them. My back pain was almost constant. Dr. Reg called to check on me. He tells me that he’s considering sending me home. I was shocked. In my head, I start thinking that if I leave here the only place I will be going is to a different hospital. There’s no way in hell I’m risking delivering a late preterm baby at home. I tell him that I’m positive I’m in labor and I ask for something to help with the back pain. Dr. Reg orders some IV pain medicine and tells me that he will talk to me in a bit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;My lovely nurse (where’s that sarcasm font??) informs me that I need to eat something before getting the pain medicine. She doesn’t want the medicine to hit me funny because I haven’t eaten all day. First, when you are in pain – eating is the last thing on your mind. Second, anyone who knows anything about having a baby knows that you aren’t supposed to eat while you are in labor. If you need a c-section, it can be dangerous. Plus, some women toss their cookies at the end of labor. If there aren’t any cookies – you can’t toss them. Anyway, the fact that the nurse was forcing me to eat something just further cemented that fact that ‘I was not in labor’. I.was.pissed. But, I wanted the pain medicine. So, I ordered a dinner tray and waited. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;While I was waiting for my food to arrive, Dr. HR popped in. I tell him that our plan failed miserably because the nurse said I was a 2. I also tell him that Dr. Reg is thinking about sending me home. He was speechless by what was occurring and powerless to fix it. Dr. HR was extremely frustrated. He told me that the initial results of the amnio showed that Mister Bister’s lungs aren’t classified as being mature. The results fell into a grey area that couldn’t guarantee his lungs were ready, but didn’t mean that they weren’t. Because of this, they couldn’t justify augmenting my labor. If I was delivering, it was going to be because my labor kept on keeping on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;What seemed like an eternity later, my dinner arrived. I managed to choke down a few bites to appease the nurse. Do you know how hard it is to eat when you are in constant pain?? Anyway, the nurse meanders in with the medicine. It made me feel like I was floating on Mars, but it did absolutely nothing for my pain. Around 7pm, I could care less about my contractions showing up on the monitor. I had to do something to try and manage the pain. I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be contracting before the doctor finally believed that I was in labor and let me get an epidural. In my mind, I was thinking it could be days. I was ready to try anything. However, since I was given narcotics, I was still confined to the bed. So, I started trying different positions. I tried laying on one side. It didn’t help. I tried the other side. Nothing. I remembered back to the childbirth class that we sat through when I was pregnant with Miss A. Our faithful instructor said that getting on your hands and knees can alleviate back pain. *Insert a ‘isn’t that how you got into this little problem in the first place’ joke here.* I didn’t care about looking like an idiot – I flipped over and assumed the position. I was trying to decide if it was actually working when everything suddenly was wet. I announced that I had either peed myself or my water had broken. In my infinite wisdom, I decided to make my way to the potty to be sure that it wasn’t pee. It wasn’t. The nurse was paged. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;In case you don’t know, when your water breaks the labor pains drastically intensify because there is not liquid to cushion anything. So I found myself on the toilet in paralyzing pain. I’m not sure I can accurately describe the amount of pain I was in. I don’t think there are words that would do it justice, but I can try. The pain was blinding. Literally. I saw white light with every contraction. I was sobbing and screaming and unable to form words. When the nurse came in, I somehow managed to demand an epidural. I knew that once your water breaks (after a certain point in the pregnancy), you have to deliver. So, there was no turning back or denying it now. I was carried back to the bed where I writhed in pain until the anesthesiologist arrived. My nurse checked me again. I was still a ‘2’. The pain was so intense that I don’t even remember signing the consent form. Beefcakes assures me that I did. Getting the epidural placed was one of the worst experiences of my life. The pain was completely gripping and constant with waves of blinding back pain. The nurse was trying to get me to relax while sitting on the side of the bed and my entire body was in a constant state of tense. It’s completely obvious to me that I would not be a good candidate for natural childbirth, and I am a-okay with that. The anesthesiologist kept asking me where I felt the needle and I couldn’t answer her. I was screaming from the pain. My family (who had made it to the hospital), could hear me in the hallway. The epidural was finally put in and kicked up to epic levels. Within a few minutes I could finally start to relax after 9 hours of having contractions every 2 minutes. It was glorious! I was so thrilled about my pain management that I thought I could try and make nice with the nurse who had been at odds with me the entire day. I looked at her and told her how happy I was that my water broke because now there was no question about my labor and that we could just move forward with getting me delivered. She stopped what she was doing and looked me square in the eyes and said ‘you know that one of the risks of having an amnio done is that your water can break’. Really, bitch?? I was done playing nice. I yelled ‘ONE OF THE RISKS OF BEING IN FREAKING LABOR IS THAT YOUR WATER CAN BREAK!’ She started my antibiotics and then quickly left the room. The heavens smiled down on me at that point, because her shift ended and I was introduced to my new nurse – who was absolutely amazing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Around 7:45pm, Dr. Reg shows up. He checks me and informs me that I’ve dilated to a 5. It was clear to me that once I was able to relax (via the epidural), I dilated extremely quickly. Dr. Reg kicked everyone but Beefcakes out of the room and started questioning us. He asked if Dr. HR stripped my membranes earlier in the day (he had not) and if the contractions started after the amnio (they definitely did not). He was obviously still in disbelief that I could have gone into labor on my own, which I find a bit hard to believe. I was high risk due to preterm labor and was told my Dr. Reg earlier that same day that ‘I make him nervous because my body tends to do its own thing’. I mean, how much longer can you question the fact that I went into labor naturally?? Dr. Reg says that he’s going to go do some paperwork but will be back soon to check on me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;At 8:30pm, Dr. Reg comes back to the room to check me. He looks up and asks me if I’m ready to start pushing. I think I looked a bit dumbfounded, and asked him if he was being serious. I couldn’t feel any pressure because they had dosed my epidural up so high. Fine by me, I had enough pain for one day! Dr. Reg left to change into scrubs while the nurse quickly got the room ready. Dr. Reg came back in and started gowning up. A team from the NICU was paged so they can be there for the delivery because I was preterm. Dr. Reg had me push once to see how Mister Bister was progressing. I guess he got a bit more than he bargained for because he yelled for the NICU team. Dr. Reg then ran out into the hall to tell the NICU to run. Beefcakes happened to look down at my lady parts and nonchalantly asked the nurse if that’s the baby’s head. The nurse took one look and yells at me to stop pushing. I inform her that I’m not. Apparently Mister Bister was coming out on his own. The nurse yelled for Dr. Reg, Dr. Reg ran back into the room and with his one gloved hand he held the head in. The nurse was able to get Dr. Reg’s other glove on while the NICU team made their way in. Dr. Reg told me to push and Mister Bister’s head came out. Now, in the effort of full disclosure (which I am a big fan of) I will add that I also pushed out something else. I know that most pregnant women are terrified of pooping while pushing, but I want you to know it really wasn’t that big of a deal. The only reason I knew it happened was because Beefcakes started giggling. He’s a gem, isn’t he?? The nurse quickly cleaned everything up and it was back to business. Really, it was not a big deal. Dr. Reg told me to push again and at 9:09 pm, after 11 hours of ‘not being in labor’, Luke Eugene Parsons was born. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;He quickly started to cry, which was music to my ears. Beefcakes was able to cut the umbilical cord before he was passed off to the NICU team. Mister Bister was breathing on his own, but it was a bit irregular. The plan was to let us hold him for a few minutes and then he would go to the NICU for assessment. I was given my sweet boy for the first time. It was magical! All of the pain from the day and annoyances of the pregnancy melted away. My sister actually asked me if I could do it all again. Without hesitation, I told her I could. (And I will, if Beefcakes changes his mind.) But, what I can’t get over is how you can instantly love someone that you just met. It’s also amazing that you have that much capacity to love someone. You don’t love anyone less to make room – you simply grow more room. And it all happens in an instant. It’s mind blowing, really. While we took turns holding our son, the NICU doctor was close by observing him. Mister Bister ended up regulating his breathing on his own. His lungs were perfectly fine! They did have to take him to the NICU later in the evening for some blood work. The antibiotics for group B strep only had time to be partially effective, so he was only partially protected. I could have strangled my original nurse for not listening to me. His test came back fine and he was able to spend the entire postpartum stay in our room. It was completely and totally different than our experience with Miss A. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Miss A’s birth was pretty traumatic. She was literally knocking on death’s door when she was born. After being resuscitated in the room, she was whisked away to the NICU where she spent 9 days. It was several hours after her delivery before I was able to see her. I was discharged and had to leave my baby at the hospital. There are no pictures of her delivery (before we knew she was going to be okay) because we were all frozen in fear when it happened. Because of that, we were terrified going into Mister Bister’s birth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Obviously we were worried that things wouldn’t go well because we knew that it could easily happen. We wanted nothing more than for everyone to be healthy in the end, but we also wanted to know what it was like to have a normal birth experience. We wanted to feel sheer bliss when the baby was born, not overwhelming terror. We wanted Beefcakes to cut the umbilical cord. We wanted to immediately hold and bond with the baby. We wanted to move to a postpartum room together and proudly show him off to our visitors. We wanted to leave the hospital together. We weren’t set on having some unobtainable birth experience – we just wanted to experience ‘normal’. And we did, to some extent, get that. Yes, it was another preterm delivery with the NICU present. But, it was still amazing. And what I realized is that normal might just be relative. I’m not sure I will ever have the ‘normal’ birth experience (or pregnancy for that matter). And that’s okay, because my family has grown by one healthy little boy. And that’s all that really matters&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/394142_867216538988_4701772_39307047_539565133_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gda="true" height="424" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/394142_867216538988_4701772_39307047_539565133_n.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Luke Eugene Parsons&lt;br /&gt;11.25.11&lt;br /&gt;9:09pm&lt;br /&gt;6 pounds, 12 ounces&lt;br /&gt;20.5 inches&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4196351519480084419?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4196351519480084419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2012/01/and-then-there-were-two-story-of-lukes_27.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4196351519480084419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4196351519480084419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2012/01/and-then-there-were-two-story-of-lukes_27.html' title='And Then There Were Two - The Story of Luke&apos;s Birth'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-7844463803457678450</id><published>2012-01-23T10:54:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T10:54:57.490-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel like I could puke</title><content type='html'>I spent three days working on a mega post for my son's birth story.&amp;nbsp; I'm serious.&amp;nbsp; THREE DAYS.&amp;nbsp; I stayed up late. &amp;nbsp;I worked during nap time.&amp;nbsp; I put things on hold to get everything out that happened.&amp;nbsp; Three days of working.&amp;nbsp; And Blogger decides to delete the draft.&amp;nbsp; It's gone. Completely gone.&amp;nbsp; Well, let me clarify - the draft is there.&amp;nbsp; All the content is gone.&amp;nbsp; All my work. Gone.&amp;nbsp; Three days worth of time, time I could have been sleeping.&amp;nbsp; Gone.&amp;nbsp; It's all freaking&amp;nbsp;gone.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's pretty safe to assume that I am pissed.&amp;nbsp; I can't decide if I should scream, cry, or puke.&amp;nbsp; Maybe all three?? Blogger is officially on&amp;nbsp;my shit list.&amp;nbsp; So, instead of getting to read the novel that I prepared for today.&amp;nbsp; You have to read this rant and know that I am going insane over here.&amp;nbsp; I do find some relief in the fact that I'm not the only one who's ticked off.&amp;nbsp; Here's Mister Bister's thoughts on the subject:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Flippingthebird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" nfa="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Flippingthebird.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Take that, Blogger! &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;Don't be worried. I will rewrite the post about Mister Bister's birth.&amp;nbsp; No big deal, right?&amp;nbsp; I mean, it's not like I have anything else to do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-7844463803457678450?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/7844463803457678450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2012/01/i-feel-like-i-could-puke.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7844463803457678450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7844463803457678450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2012/01/i-feel-like-i-could-puke.html' title='I feel like I could puke'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-8519004402458845391</id><published>2012-01-18T09:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T21:36:51.730-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy #3'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mister Bister'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Preeclampsia'/><title type='text'>I'm Great at Being Pregnant Badly</title><content type='html'>The last time I wrote about pregnancy was at the end of September. Even though it's now over, I thought that I would go back and fill in what happened and how everything went down. I'm not sure if you really want to know about it. But, I know that I would want to know if I was following a blog that suddenly stopped mid-pregnancy. I will admit that I am a bit nosey. It's what makes the blogging world go round. So, for all you other nosey pants out there - allow me to fill in the gap for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;October was pretty uneventful. Let me take that back. October ended up being pretty uneventful on the pregnancy front. There was a scare at one point that my cervix was prematurely shortening, but it ended up holding steady. I was put on some medicine to reduce contractions. Then I was put on a different medicine to reduce contractions. That medicine also helped lower blood pressure. My blood pressure was very slightly elevated, but not horrible. I also started to swell a bit. Again, nothing horrible. I could still wear shoes in October...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That brings me to November. My pregnancy went to hell in a hand basket in the matter of a few weeks. It all started when Miss A lovingly shared her stomach flu with me. I spent a good 12 hours throwing up everything that touched my lips. Starting contracting (with back labor) and hightailed it to the hospital. Turns out that I was severely dehydrated and in labor. I progressed to a '1' before things were stopped with fluids. Massive amounts of fluids. I'm talking 5 IV bags before my levels improved. It was crazy. &lt;br /&gt;I noticed my swelling continue to worsen over the next few days and I was having some symptoms of high blood pressure (seeing tracers and spots). My fears were confirmed when my home health nurse came to give me my weekly progesterone injection. My BP was 150/90. Yikes! She called my doctor. My doctor called me. I hightailed it to the hospital again. While I was there, my BP lowered while laying down. I was discharged on bedrest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm totally not meant for bedrest. I would lay there and make lists of everything that needed to be done, but I couldn't do any of it. Drove.me.crazy. Now, I had been preparing for this because I knew it was a very real possibility that I would end up benched. I had made a bunch of food to freeze. The nursery was completed (more on that to come). And the house was ready for a new baby. I have to say that bedrest enabled me to finish all my requirements for grad school from the confines of my bed. So, that's a plus. The major bummer - trying to lay around with a toddler. Miss A ranged from hating me for being so lazy to capitalizing on it. She knew I was a sitting duck and took the opportunity to really test her limits. There were several times that I found her on top of the kitchen table stuffing the contents of an entire bag of wipes into a vase. It was rocky around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the next week, my BP remained high and I started to spill some protein into my urine. My swelling reached Guinness Book of World Record status. I have never seen anything like it. My legs were twice their normal size and I'm pretty sure my ankles packed up and moved. There were absolutely no signs of them. The tops of my feet were so puffy it was painful to walk. I had one pair of flip flops that I could manage to wedge my feet into, but that was it. Not the best for the middle of November, but better than nothing. My hands and arms got in on the action too. My wedding ring had been removed long ago and I had been wearing a stand-in ring that was two sizes bigger. My fingers were so swollen, I couldn't even wear that. My skin began to crease and crack from the massive amount of swelling. It was horrible. The silver lining is that I could have easily filled in for the Michelin Man, if needed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/294455_834022500108_4701772_39144706_603390995_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" kba="true" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/294455_834022500108_4701772_39144706_603390995_n.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Believe me now?&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"&gt;Shortly before&amp;nbsp;35 weeks,&amp;nbsp;I was officially diagnosed with preeclampsia.&amp;nbsp; The plan was to get to 37 weeks and induce.&amp;nbsp; We had to walk a bit of tightrope to try and make it happen.&amp;nbsp; The problem with pre-e is that it will only get worse until you deliver.&amp;nbsp; And, it can get really bad, really fast.&amp;nbsp; There isn't justification to induce before 37 weeks unless the baby is showing signs of distress, the mom's blood work is showing signs of liver or kidney problems, or mom's BP is 160/100.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;My blood work was always normal, Mister Bister always looked great via ultrasound, and my BP was hovering around 155/95.&amp;nbsp; So, the plan was to wait it out.&amp;nbsp; I made another trip to the hospital only be sent home again.&amp;nbsp; My medicines were switched around and doses were increased.&amp;nbsp; I had a reaction to one where my entire body turned bright red (BP medicine opens up your blood vessels in order&amp;nbsp;to reduce pressure - it worked a little too well on me).&amp;nbsp; Medicines had&amp;nbsp;to be changed again.&amp;nbsp; My regular OB and my high risk were consulting with each other on my care, but they started to disagree.&amp;nbsp; I was stuck in the middle, on bedrest, swollen like mad, and worried like crazy.&amp;nbsp; All of this led into my labor and delivery, but that will have to wait for another post.&amp;nbsp; (Such a page turner, I know...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-8519004402458845391?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/8519004402458845391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2012/01/im-great-at-being-pregnant-badly.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8519004402458845391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8519004402458845391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2012/01/im-great-at-being-pregnant-badly.html' title='I&apos;m Great at Being Pregnant Badly'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-8580024706372244985</id><published>2012-01-15T22:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T22:16:05.429-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hold on to your panties - I'm blogging again</title><content type='html'>Shame on me.&amp;nbsp; I've been a bad little blogger.&amp;nbsp; A really BAD, BAAAAAAAAAAAAAD blogger.&amp;nbsp; If there was an award for crappiest blogger around - I would be nominated.&amp;nbsp; I might even win.&amp;nbsp; I mean, crappiest in that I haven't posted in I don't even remember how long.&amp;nbsp; Not crappiest in the means of writing - because we all know I'm amazing.&amp;nbsp; Alright, I'm just pumping myself up&amp;nbsp;for that long jump back on the bandwagon.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me apologize for the lack of posts.&amp;nbsp; Life kind of got in the way of, well, everything.&amp;nbsp; In my defense, there has been quite an enormous amount of life happening at my house.&amp;nbsp; When I fell off the face of my blog's Earth, my eggo was preggo with a baby boy.&amp;nbsp; I ran into some complications (who's surprised by that one?? Not me.&amp;nbsp; I'm great at being pregnant badly.) and ended up on bedrest.&amp;nbsp; More to come on that soon.&amp;nbsp; We celebrated Thanksgiving.&amp;nbsp; I delivered my sweet little man a day later.&amp;nbsp; Much more on that later.&amp;nbsp; I somehow managed to finish my master's degree.&amp;nbsp; And we got&amp;nbsp;through Christmas in a haze of sugar and sleep deprivation (the bags and circles under my eyes prove that).&amp;nbsp; See, I told you it wasn't completely my fault!&amp;nbsp; Life got in the way!&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Meetingbigsisfirsttime.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" kba="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Meetingbigsisfirsttime.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Proof that I had a baby.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ Now that my little guy is 7 weeks old and things have settled down a little bit....&amp;nbsp; Wait, who am I kidding?&amp;nbsp; My world has been completely and totally rocked by adding another kiddo to the mix.&amp;nbsp; And so has Miss A's.&amp;nbsp; Having two kids&amp;nbsp;is SO MUCH DIFFERENT THAN HAVING ONE.&amp;nbsp; Which is why it makes even more sense to jump back into blogging.&amp;nbsp; The things that I have come across these past few weeks are just too unglamorous to not post.&amp;nbsp; I have to 'keep it real' after all!&amp;nbsp; I am going to try my absolute hardest to post more.&amp;nbsp; And I think I can manage it. I mean, who really needs to sleep?&amp;nbsp; However, in the interest of full disclosure - I just joined Pinterest.&amp;nbsp; So, I might drown in a sea of pins, boards, and craft projects and never talk to anyone ever again.&amp;nbsp; If you don't hear&amp;nbsp;from me soon - send help...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-8580024706372244985?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/8580024706372244985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2012/01/hold-on-to-your-panties-im-blogging.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8580024706372244985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8580024706372244985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2012/01/hold-on-to-your-panties-im-blogging.html' title='Hold on to your panties - I&apos;m blogging again'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-5515475848073476941</id><published>2011-09-29T19:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-29T19:23:31.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nugget List</title><content type='html'>- I'm having a love-hate relationship with progesterone right now.&amp;nbsp; Well, let me be honest.&amp;nbsp; I'm leaning more toward hate, than love at this point.&amp;nbsp; It makes me tired constantly, and nauseous.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes also swears that it makes me a bit of a 'B'.&amp;nbsp; I don't know what the heck that stupid-face is talking about.&amp;nbsp; Oh, and all the added progesterone is really backing up my plumbing department.&amp;nbsp; I'd pay money to poo at this point.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes had to prep for a colonoscopy the other day (it was for prevention due to family history) and crapped himself in bed.&amp;nbsp; I wasn't even grossed out.&amp;nbsp; I was actually jealous that he was able to go so freely.&amp;nbsp; Plus, a good 'I shit my pants' story is always hilarious - I don't care who you are.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I've been a bit busy lately.&amp;nbsp; I know I keep saying that.&amp;nbsp; But, it's freaking true.&amp;nbsp; I'm sorry.&amp;nbsp; Between working, school, parenting, and being preggo - I hardly have time to sit down.&amp;nbsp; Maybe it's a good thing I'm not pooping - I don't really have time for it!&amp;nbsp; Any spare time I have has been devoted to napping because progesterone hates me and doesn't want me to have a life.&amp;nbsp; *See above.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I had an appointment with my high risk OB the other day.&amp;nbsp; Baby Bean is weighing in at 2lb 8 oz - which is the 86th percentile for his gestational age.&amp;nbsp; I'm pumped that he's so plump, but I have to say I'm getting a bit nervous for my lady parts.&amp;nbsp; Things could get ugly for my lower region if he makes it to term.&amp;nbsp; I'm happy to report that the ole cervix is holding up beautifully!&amp;nbsp; That might be the only reason I love progesterone at this point.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Miss A's vocab has really sprouted lately.&amp;nbsp; It's actually really amazing how quickly she started talking once she actually started talking.&amp;nbsp; Let me clarify that the majority of her words are unrecognizable to the 'untrained' ear.&amp;nbsp; I remember trying to have a conversation with a toddler before&amp;nbsp;I had any children and having to look at the mom for a translation.&amp;nbsp; It's the same story now, except I'm the translator.&amp;nbsp; I can usually swing the whole translator gig without any problems.&amp;nbsp; However, Miss A keeps saying 'nonny' and asking where 'nonny' is.&amp;nbsp; I have absolutely no clue who or what 'nonny' is.&amp;nbsp; This has been going on for months now.&amp;nbsp; She'll look up at me with big, sweet eyes and ask 'where's nonny'.&amp;nbsp; It comes out more like 'whrs non nee'.&amp;nbsp; I don't know what to tell her, so I always fumble around until I just tell her I don't who nonny is.&amp;nbsp; She looks a little defeated, but moves on alright.&amp;nbsp; I'm just waiting for her to throw a fit because I can't produce 'nonny' on request.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Annaglare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" kca="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Annaglare.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;I want my nonny, dammit. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The new Facebook layout sucks.&amp;nbsp; Facebook changes their layout more often than I change my undies.&amp;nbsp; I hate the new layout.&amp;nbsp; I'm so confused by it.&amp;nbsp; Where are all my updates?&amp;nbsp; Where are my notifications (I've requested them twice now)?&amp;nbsp; Where's are all the passive-aggressive drama that I live on through Facebook?&amp;nbsp; Mark Zuckerberg is officially on my shit list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- In other news ... we aren't moving to Mississippi.&amp;nbsp; We decided that the better choice for our family was to stay where we are and for Beefcakes to find another job.&amp;nbsp; So, Beefcakes did.&amp;nbsp; And we are staying where we are.&amp;nbsp; Sorry Missouri - you are stuck with us.&amp;nbsp; Suckers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-5515475848073476941?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/5515475848073476941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/09/nugget-list.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5515475848073476941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5515475848073476941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/09/nugget-list.html' title='Nugget List'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-499414665994775200</id><published>2011-08-25T10:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T10:35:38.495-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nugget List'/><title type='text'>Nugget List</title><content type='html'>- I realize that once again I have slacked on the whole blog post business.&amp;nbsp; Please don't take it personal.&amp;nbsp; There's quite a bit of catching up to do, so I figured I would just put it all in a Nugget List for you.&amp;nbsp; I know you are dying to know what's going on in my life.&amp;nbsp; I mean, don't we all read blogs because we a bit nosy?&amp;nbsp; Okay.&amp;nbsp; I read blogs because I am nosy.&amp;nbsp; I just tell myself that's why everyone else does too.&amp;nbsp; It helps me sleep at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The big move has been postponed for now.&amp;nbsp; Beefcake's company is now telling him that it will be at least a year before we go.&amp;nbsp; Whew!&amp;nbsp; Can we all breathe a big sigh of relief on that one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Since we aren't moving a week after my due date now, we thought that we would get going on Baby Bean's nursery.&amp;nbsp; It's been quite the project.&amp;nbsp; All the painting is making me so sore.&amp;nbsp; It's official, I'm an old lady.&amp;nbsp; Be on the edge of your seat for pictures (of the room, not of me in my old lady state - I'll spare you those).&amp;nbsp; Getting the nursery ready has been a whole family affair.&amp;nbsp; Miss A has even pitched in.&amp;nbsp; I mean she should.&amp;nbsp; What's the point of having kids if you can't reap a little child labor from them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="400" width="224"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/806331647798" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/806331647798" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="224" height="400"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;(check out the video!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- We had our big anatomy ultrasound a few weeks ago.&amp;nbsp; Baby Bean is looking perfect!&amp;nbsp; He's still big (but within the acceptable range), and he's definitely still a boy.&amp;nbsp; At one point his foot was on the screen and the tech commented on how big it was.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes wears a size 15, so I guess I can't be all that surprised.&amp;nbsp; Plus, we are now almost certain that Beefcakes is indeed the father.&amp;nbsp; It was touch and go for a while...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Anyone that knows me, knows that I'm a bit of a planner.&amp;nbsp; Well, now that's a bit of an understatement.&amp;nbsp; I'm borderline OCD when it comes to preparing for things.&amp;nbsp; Because of this - I can now say that every Christmas and birthday gift from now until January is purchased and wrapped.&amp;nbsp; In my defense, I'm not usually this ahead of the game.&amp;nbsp; I usually do all of my Christmas shopping on Black Friday.&amp;nbsp; But, I figured that probably wasn't the best environment for a hugely preggo person.&amp;nbsp; Plus, I like to get into at least one fist fight on Black Friday and that's just not conducive to being pregnant.&amp;nbsp; Kids ruin everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Miss A has really started talking quite a bit lately.&amp;nbsp; I was getting&amp;nbsp;a little concerned with her lack of talking, so we had her ears checked.&amp;nbsp; They checked out fine.&amp;nbsp; It turns out that she had some kind of prolonged respiratory thing going on (it lasted about 3 months) and was causing fluid in her ears.&amp;nbsp; A round of strong antibiotics, and my little girl is quickly becoming the chatterbox that I know she is destined to be.&amp;nbsp; One of her current fave words is to say 'no no' while shaking her head.&amp;nbsp; I'll catch her doing something that she's isn't supposed to be doing and before I can say anything I hear her telling herself no and shaking her head.&amp;nbsp; It's actually kind of nice.&amp;nbsp; This whole parenting gig is much easier when your child disciplines herself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I hate having a post without pictures, so&amp;nbsp;I thought I'd add one for you.&amp;nbsp; I opened the pantry the other day to grab some hamburger buns for dinner.&amp;nbsp; They were a bit moldy, but I figured they would still be okay to eat.&amp;nbsp; What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/moldybuns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" qaa="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/moldybuns.jpg" width="475" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-499414665994775200?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/499414665994775200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/08/nugget-list.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/499414665994775200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/499414665994775200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/08/nugget-list.html' title='Nugget List'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-2719431674372494125</id><published>2011-08-04T10:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-04T10:26:39.171-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>In the words of Whitney Houston</title><content type='html'>Crack is wack...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/photo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/photo1.jpg" t$="true" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Apparently Miss A doesn't agree.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-2719431674372494125?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/2719431674372494125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/08/in-words-of-whitney-houston.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2719431674372494125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2719431674372494125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/08/in-words-of-whitney-houston.html' title='In the words of Whitney Houston'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4954503626868401671</id><published>2011-08-01T21:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-01T21:13:55.122-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><title type='text'>You want us to move where?  And when???</title><content type='html'>Let me preface this post by saying that nothing is 'set in stone' yet.&amp;nbsp; The fat lady isn't singing just yet, but I think she's probably warming up in the wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Beefcake's company is moving the majority of their operations to Oxford, Mississippi in order to save boatloads of money.&amp;nbsp; We've known about the move for a while now, and we've known that it was a possibility that Beefcakes was going to be asked to move.&amp;nbsp; However, we were always told that any potential of us moving was going to happen, at the earliest, in the summer of 2012.&amp;nbsp; We talked over the idea of Beefcakes looking for a new job so we could stay put, but decided to see how everything played out.&amp;nbsp; We kind of put the whole move to another state thing on the back burner and continued on with our life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a week and a half ago, Beefcakes gets a call from one of the VPs in the company.&amp;nbsp; They want him to transfer to the Oxford facility and are offering him a promotion to go.&amp;nbsp; Score for the promotion!&amp;nbsp; And then they dropped the bomb ... they want him to be moved and ready to work on January 1, 2012.&amp;nbsp; I'll give you a second to&amp;nbsp;let that soak in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you that are up to speed on the Bean that's growing in my belly, you realize that I'm due on Christmas Eve.&amp;nbsp; We are supposed to be in Mississippi a week after my due date.&amp;nbsp; Let that sink in.&amp;nbsp; It's too good of an opportunity to not pass up, so I'm pretty sure we are going to go for it.&amp;nbsp; Plus, Oxford is a great town.&amp;nbsp; It would be&amp;nbsp;a different story if they were asking us to move to Gary, Indiana...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm a planner by nature.&amp;nbsp; Every fiber of my being wants to start planning for the move.&amp;nbsp; And I can't.&amp;nbsp; I really wanted to start Baby Bean's nursery.&amp;nbsp; And it doesn't make any sense now.&amp;nbsp; We have to wait until the relocation process starts.&amp;nbsp; We would be wasting money if we didn't.&amp;nbsp; I think we'll have to try and sell our house for a certain amount of time (which means that I will be responsible for getting the house ready for viewings while 8 or 9 months preggo).&amp;nbsp; The company will buy it if we can't sell it.&amp;nbsp; The price?&amp;nbsp; We aren't sure yet.&amp;nbsp; Obviously I'm bummed to leave our house.&amp;nbsp; We built this house thinking we would be here for a long time.&amp;nbsp; We had room to grow and we made it exactly what we wanted.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are taking a trip to Oxford next week to check out the city and look at houses.&amp;nbsp; Realistically, this will be my only trip down there until the baby is born and we move.&amp;nbsp; I'm hoping to find a few houses that we really like.&amp;nbsp; If they are still on the market when we can put an offer in, then that will be done.&amp;nbsp; If we can't, then it's going to be a while before we can look at houses.&amp;nbsp; I will most likely live with my parents (with the kiddos) until we are able to travel after having the baby.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes will have to do the bachelor thing in Mississippi until we make it down there.&amp;nbsp; If Bean's early, then I don't know what in the hell we are going to do.&amp;nbsp; I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.&amp;nbsp; Crossing my fingers that it all works out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for those of you that are taking notes - in one month I will finish grad school, have a baby (assuming he's full term), sell a house, and move.&amp;nbsp; Oh yeah, and celebrate Christmas.&amp;nbsp; No big deal, right?&amp;nbsp; I mean, why not?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Mississippi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="480" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Mississippi.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4954503626868401671?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4954503626868401671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/08/you-want-us-to-move-where-and-when.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4954503626868401671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4954503626868401671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/08/you-want-us-to-move-where-and-when.html' title='You want us to move where?  And when???'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-6385913695940354749</id><published>2011-07-30T19:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-30T19:44:32.824-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><title type='text'>All the Pregnant Ladies</title><content type='html'>I hope to be this awesome at 9 months preggo.&amp;nbsp; Hell, I just hope to be 9 months preggo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/aYRSSACstnQ/0.jpg"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aYRSSACstnQ&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266"  src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aYRSSACstnQ&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;(Come to the blog. It's worth it!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-6385913695940354749?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/6385913695940354749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/all-pregnant-ladies.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6385913695940354749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6385913695940354749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/all-pregnant-ladies.html' title='All the Pregnant Ladies'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-791781619674805093</id><published>2011-07-23T20:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-23T20:36:30.131-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nugget List'/><title type='text'>Nugget List</title><content type='html'>- If you are what you eat, then this baby is going to come out looking like Ronald McDonald. I've been eating McDonald's like it's my job lately. I realize that it's not exactly healthy, but it could be worse. I could be eating toilet paper or nails or something like that. See, when I give you a little perspective a Ronald McDonald baby doesn't seem all&amp;nbsp;that bad. I was a little concerned, however, when I saw this at my last ultrasound:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Pregnancy%203/17w3d-ronaldmcdonald.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="467" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Pregnancy%203/17w3d-ronaldmcdonald.jpg" t$="true" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Speaking of ultrasounds, we confirmed that he is still a he. His package is undeniable. By that, I mean it's big. And I'm oddly proud of it. Actually everything about Baby Bean is measuring big.&amp;nbsp; He's tall, he's round, and he has a big head (not including the red wig).&amp;nbsp; I mean, he's not too big.&amp;nbsp; But, he's big.&amp;nbsp; The big head is what worries me the most.&amp;nbsp; Honestly, it makes my lady parts cringe.&amp;nbsp; I can't say I'm surprised.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes is a big dude.&amp;nbsp; My mother-in-law has told me several times about how big his head was when he was born.&amp;nbsp; His noggin remained on track.&amp;nbsp; He's a big guy.&amp;nbsp; He has a big head.&amp;nbsp; I guess it's my fault for marrying a giant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I'm in the midst of two summer classes at the moment, which makes me an unhappy camper.&amp;nbsp; I have one that's been meeting on Monday evening and will finish next week.&amp;nbsp; I have a paper and presentation that I have to finish for that.&amp;nbsp; (I probably should be working on that right now...)&amp;nbsp; I also have a class that met Thursday evening, all day Friday, and all day Saturday.&amp;nbsp; It's the same schedule next week.&amp;nbsp; Can I just say that I'm freaking exhausted?&amp;nbsp; I guess it will all be worth it.&amp;nbsp; I only have two more classes until I graduate.&amp;nbsp; I should be done in December.&amp;nbsp; If it's before the baby, only time will tell.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The carpets in my house were screaming at me to be cleaned.&amp;nbsp; I swear I heard them!&amp;nbsp; Call it nesting or whatever you want, but my carpets are now&amp;nbsp;sparkling clean&amp;nbsp;and my house feels a million times better.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Beefcakes has a man crush on Trace Adkins.&amp;nbsp; I think if Trace would come and ask Beefcakes if he would run away with him, he'd leave me faster than I could spin a dime.&amp;nbsp; I just want you to know, just in case it ever happens.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-791781619674805093?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/791781619674805093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/nugget-list.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/791781619674805093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/791781619674805093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/nugget-list.html' title='Nugget List'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Pregnancy%203/th_17w3d-ronaldmcdonald.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-8945650948002461771</id><published>2011-07-19T11:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T11:48:05.036-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><title type='text'>Miss A is Famous!</title><content type='html'>Miss A is making an appearance over at &lt;a href="http://www.mommyshorts.com/"&gt;Mommy Shorts&lt;/a&gt; today in the form of a caption contest. Now, you are only allowed to go and visit if you promise that you won't leave me for the glamorous life that Ilana has to offer over there. She does live in New York City and has an adorable daughter with massive amounts of hair. Oh yeah, she's also 'pee your pants' funny. Consider yourself warned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff376/ilanarose1/MommyShortsCaptioned2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" m$="true" src="http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff376/ilanarose1/MommyShortsCaptioned2.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-8945650948002461771?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/8945650948002461771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/miss-is-famous.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8945650948002461771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8945650948002461771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/miss-is-famous.html' title='Miss A is Famous!'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4964504043118050164</id><published>2011-07-18T21:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T21:59:05.273-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adulthood'/><title type='text'>Two movie tickets ... that comes to one big toe and your next born.</title><content type='html'>Here's the reality of having a child - they kind of ruin everything.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean that in the most loving and maternal way possible.&amp;nbsp; Seriously, I do.&amp;nbsp; Allow me to explain: before we were blessed with our little bundle of joy, Beefcakes and I could do whatever we wanted at whatever time we wanted.&amp;nbsp; There was no eating on a schedule.&amp;nbsp; No mandatory nap times.&amp;nbsp; We could leave our house in a matter of seconds and didn't have to worry about diapers, baby wipes, and favorite toys.&amp;nbsp; Everyone could buckle themselves in the car and I didn't have to wipe anyone's rear.&amp;nbsp; It was fabulous.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we have responsibility in the form of a 17-month-old, things are a bit different.&amp;nbsp; Trips out of the house have to be planned so that they don't fall during her nap.&amp;nbsp; A bag has to be packed with diapers, wipes, snacks, drinks, toys, and anything else that you could possibly use to keep your 'responsibility' from melting down in a public place.&amp;nbsp; Leaving her at the house alone isn't an option unless I'm alright with those pesky people from Child Protective Services dropping by to assess if I'm a fit mother or not.&amp;nbsp; Maybe another day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it's safe to say that 'Date Nights' that don't include ordering a kids meal don't happen that often.&amp;nbsp; The logistics of planning one makes me so tired that by the time we are ready to leave the house, all I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep.&amp;nbsp; I mean, you have to plan for a sitter.&amp;nbsp; That sitter has to be told exactly what to do and what to&amp;nbsp;feed your child.&amp;nbsp; Plus, you have to pay for a person to watch your 'responsibility' on top of whatever the rest of the evening costs.&amp;nbsp; What used to be a relatively inexpensive night turns into big bucks.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my mother-in-law was in town one weekend and offered to watch Miss A while Beefcakes and I went on a 'Date Night'.&amp;nbsp; We jumped at the offer because the mother-in-law as the babysitter means no money.&amp;nbsp; She actually likes doing it.&amp;nbsp; Total win-win!&amp;nbsp; After considering clubbing it up into the wee hours of the morning, we opted to catch a movie.&amp;nbsp; Neither of us could remember the last time we actually went to the theater.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we went to a local theater and asked for two tickets.&amp;nbsp; The teenager behind the counter said 'that will be $24.50.'&amp;nbsp; I about crapped my pants.&amp;nbsp; I explained that we only wanted two tickets, not twenty two.&amp;nbsp; Apparently that's the going rate for tickets now.&amp;nbsp; We bought the stupid tickets and went to get some popcorn.&amp;nbsp; In hindsight, not the best idea.&amp;nbsp; We told another teenager that we wanted a medium popcorn and a soda.&amp;nbsp; He explained that for just $0.50 more we could upgrade to a large, bottomless popcorn, a large soda, and a bag of candy.&amp;nbsp; What a deal!&amp;nbsp; We took the bait.&amp;nbsp; The guy handed over a tub of popcorn that could double as a bassinet for the new baby.&amp;nbsp; We were also given no less than 4 liters of soda and a bag of candy.&amp;nbsp; And, we only owed $32.&amp;nbsp; Such a bargain.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-zrYsfp6mZo/SwVlWVY-OBI/AAAAAAAAA9s/avJ_eDlzrFA/s400/s-MOVIE-POPCORN-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="292" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-zrYsfp6mZo/SwVlWVY-OBI/AAAAAAAAA9s/avJ_eDlzrFA/s400/s-MOVIE-POPCORN-large.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the movie, we left the theater with bursting bladders and indigestion.&amp;nbsp; We were also completely broke.&amp;nbsp; Apparently 'Date Nights' aren't all they cracked up to be.&amp;nbsp; Maybe&amp;nbsp;our little 'responsibility'&amp;nbsp;isn't that bad after all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4964504043118050164?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4964504043118050164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/two-movie-tickets-that-comes-to-one-big.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4964504043118050164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4964504043118050164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/two-movie-tickets-that-comes-to-one-big.html' title='Two movie tickets ... that comes to one big toe and your next born.'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-zrYsfp6mZo/SwVlWVY-OBI/AAAAAAAAA9s/avJ_eDlzrFA/s72-c/s-MOVIE-POPCORN-large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1228869976604237081</id><published>2011-07-13T11:06:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T11:07:08.430-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy #3'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Bean'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><title type='text'>What's that between baby's legs??</title><content type='html'>I had an appointment with my perinatologist yesterday.&amp;nbsp; The plan was to do an ultrasound to measure the length of my cervix and the growth of the baby.&amp;nbsp; Well, apparently,&amp;nbsp; the ultrasound technician was sick so the doctor was doing all of the scans.&amp;nbsp; So, we skipped the growth part.&amp;nbsp; But, he was nice enough to let us take a peak at the potty shot.&amp;nbsp; The conversation went a little something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doc - 'Here's the angle we are looking for.'&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes - 'What's that between baby's legs?'&lt;br /&gt;Doc - 'What do you think that is?'&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'Ummm, little boy parts??'&lt;br /&gt;Doc - 'I think you're right!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then look over at Beefcakes to see how he was handling the news of having a son.&amp;nbsp; This is what I saw:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Alexfacewarped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="480" m$="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Alexfacewarped.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I think it's safe to say that he's happy about having a little boy...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I asked the doctor if he was certain it was a boy.&amp;nbsp; He said that he was pretty certain that we were dealing with a little boy here.&amp;nbsp; He added that his son, who's 26,&amp;nbsp;appeared to be a girl on ultrasounds up until delivery.&amp;nbsp; Apparently the good doctor&amp;nbsp;informs any potential&amp;nbsp;daughter-in-laws that his son's package wasn't visible on the ultrasound - so they shouldn't get too excited. I'm not a man, but I can assume that I would want to kill my dad if he pulled a stunt like that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So, Miss A is going to have a baby brother.&amp;nbsp; And we are naming him Luke Eugene after Beefcakes' grandpa and father.&amp;nbsp; We are really excited!!&amp;nbsp; I have to admit that I'm a little nervous about having a boy.&amp;nbsp; I'm so used to a girl and girly things.&amp;nbsp; What do you do with a boy??&amp;nbsp; I suppose I have some time to figure that out...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1228869976604237081?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1228869976604237081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/whats-that-between-babys-legs.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1228869976604237081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1228869976604237081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/whats-that-between-babys-legs.html' title='What&apos;s that between baby&apos;s legs??'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4304878922366438020</id><published>2011-07-08T15:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T15:50:05.768-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mommy Tools'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>What in the hell is a dromedary?</title><content type='html'>Miss A has discovered my iPhone.&amp;nbsp; It's like baby crack to her.&amp;nbsp; I have to give a major nod to Steve Jobs over at Apple for designing a product that is not only addicting to an adult, but also to a recently turned 17-month-old.&amp;nbsp; Hats off to you, Mr. Jobs...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Miss A likes to play on my phone.&amp;nbsp; So, instead of letting her accidentally call Sweden, I downloaded some toddler-friendly apps for her.&amp;nbsp; I figured that there wasn't any harm in letting my phone teach her numbers and animal sounds - especially if it means that I can finish my grocery shopping in peace.&amp;nbsp; My only dilemma now is that every time she sees my phone, Miss A thinks that it's hers to play on.&amp;nbsp; Is a 17-month-old too young for their own iPhone or iPad?&amp;nbsp; I'll save that debate for a future post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Miss A was happily engulfed in my phone the other day.&amp;nbsp; She was playing a game where you touch the screen and an animal pops up.&amp;nbsp; The animal's name is said and then their corresponding sound is made.&amp;nbsp; Pretty riveting stuff, especially for a toddler.&amp;nbsp; I found it interesting because this particular game gives the sounds of a vulture, koala, iguana, and giraffe.&amp;nbsp; When was&amp;nbsp;the last time someone asked you what sound an iguana makes and you were able to answer them?&amp;nbsp; So, the game continued for a while with pretty standard animals.&amp;nbsp; Then I hear the announcer say 'dromedary' and this horrible sound like someone was being violated.&amp;nbsp; I was a little intrigued because I had never heard a sound quite like that, and I had never heard of a dromedary.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your natural response when you don't know something?&amp;nbsp; You 'Google' it.&amp;nbsp; Duh!&amp;nbsp; I did a little research on Wikipedia (because everything on the Internet is true - especially if it's found on Wikipedia).&amp;nbsp; Apparently the dromedary is also known as the Arabian Camel (they are the largest member of the camel family) and can be found in feral form in Australia.&amp;nbsp; There are domesticated breeds in the Middle East.&amp;nbsp; The dromedary only has one hump.&amp;nbsp; I'm sure they are very jealous of their Bactrian Camel brothers, which have two humps.&amp;nbsp; I also read that you can use camel milk to make butter and cheese.&amp;nbsp; And dromedary meat can be consumed, but it apparently it tastes a bit dry because it's low in fat.&amp;nbsp; Who knew...&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Dromedary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" m$="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Dromedary.jpg" width="324" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The dromedary, in its original habitat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dromedary"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;I have to say that I'm quite impressed with this particular animal sound app, because it managed to teach me something.&amp;nbsp; They also talk about a quetzal ... I'll let you Google that one on your own time.&amp;nbsp; It's not too shabby since the app was free.&amp;nbsp; However, I'm a little concerned because it's obvious that Miss A is going to be smarter than me in a matter of minutes. *Hangs my head in shame.*&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4304878922366438020?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4304878922366438020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/what-in-hell-is-dromedary.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4304878922366438020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4304878922366438020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/what-in-hell-is-dromedary.html' title='What in the hell is a dromedary?'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-5190777512359554811</id><published>2011-07-05T20:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T20:00:36.444-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>Toddlers Need to Unwind Too</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;*Guest post from Miss A*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes after a long day of being told that I can't climb up the slide, to&amp;nbsp;not&amp;nbsp;dance on&amp;nbsp;the kitchen table, and not to ride the dog like a horse -&amp;nbsp;I like to unwind with a nice cocktail.&amp;nbsp; Now, I know what you are thinking... I should have gone with a dirty martini instead.&amp;nbsp; Or possibly a cosmo.&amp;nbsp; That would be very chic of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" i$="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/photo.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Untwist your panties ... it's non-alcoholic.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-5190777512359554811?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/5190777512359554811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/toddlers-need-to-unwind-too.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5190777512359554811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5190777512359554811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/07/toddlers-need-to-unwind-too.html' title='Toddlers Need to Unwind Too'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-2640436857486222337</id><published>2011-06-29T12:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T12:17:54.724-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy #3'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Bean'/><title type='text'>I'm Still Here ... pulls the preggo card</title><content type='html'>*KNOCK, KNOCK*&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello out there??&amp;nbsp; Is anyone still around?&amp;nbsp; It's me, Lisa.&amp;nbsp; You know, The Unglamorous Mommy?&amp;nbsp; Do you remember me?&amp;nbsp; Have you missed me??&amp;nbsp; I've missed you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been on a bit of a blogging hiatus as of late.&amp;nbsp; Not by choice, but because this whole pregnancy thing is royally kicking my arse.&amp;nbsp; I have been sleeping off the first trimester, which leaves very little time for writing blog posts or being creative in general.&amp;nbsp; It also leaves very little time for housework, but I'll have to answer to Beefcakes on that one.&amp;nbsp; He honestly can't say much, because he's the one who put me in this little situation... Now that I'm officially in the second trimester, I'm hoping that I will be able to make it through the day without a trip to my bed.&amp;nbsp; We'll see.&amp;nbsp; I'm feeling pretty good.&amp;nbsp; My morning sickness is still hanging around because it's a big punk, but I'm managing.&amp;nbsp; I'm ready to feel better.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my first appointment with my perinatologist (Dr. Paul).&amp;nbsp; It went really well and I'm feeling better about the whole preterm labor thing.&amp;nbsp; We had a long talk about what happened with Miss A and what we are going to do differently with this pregnancy.&amp;nbsp; In a nutshell - I will be taking progesterone supplements along with getting the 17p progesterone weekly&amp;nbsp;injections, regular ultrasounds to check cervical length, possibly getting a cerclage, and possibly taking antibiotics for the remainder of the pregnancy.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Progesterone&lt;/u&gt; - Apparently there&amp;nbsp;are two types of progesterone during pregnancy.&amp;nbsp; The 17p progesterone injections helps the placental progesterone.&amp;nbsp; Regular progesterone is better for thickening cervical membranes.&amp;nbsp; So, hopefully my mucus plug will stay put this time.&amp;nbsp; Take a minute to gag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Cervical length and a cerclage&lt;/u&gt; - I will start ultrasounds to check for cervical length starting in a little over a week.&amp;nbsp; (I'm crossing my fingers that they can tell us if we can buy pink or blue!)&amp;nbsp; If my cervix is short to begin with or showing signs of early shortening, Dr. Paul wants to put in a cerclage.&amp;nbsp; He likens a cerclage to tying up your cervix like a Crown Royal bag.&amp;nbsp; Again, take your time gagging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Antibiotics/Bacterial Growth&lt;/u&gt; - Dr. Paul said that about 60% of women who experience premature rupture of membranes (when your water breaks early) have an underlying infection.&amp;nbsp; So, he did several cultures to check for different bacterias.&amp;nbsp; I mean, why not play in the goodies while I'm there?&amp;nbsp; I&amp;nbsp; like to get my full money's worth!&amp;nbsp; Dr. Paul did note that I have a pretty cervix.&amp;nbsp; It's nice to know that if I ever enter my cervix in a beauty pageant, it would take home the ultimate grand supreme title.&amp;nbsp; (I've been watching too much 'Toddlers in Tiaras'.)&amp;nbsp; Included in this screening was my Strep B test.&amp;nbsp; Depending on the results of those cultures and what antibiotics they respond to - I will have to take antibiotics for the remainder of the pregnancy to try to keep any infection at bay.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Baby Bean and Mommy are both doing good!&amp;nbsp; I'm just hoping to stop feeling sick after eating and to stop relying on my naptime to get through the day.&amp;nbsp; And I'm praying that Baby Bean continues to thrive and grow and remain healthy!!&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/260305_775362969278_4701772_38616801_1102518_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="468" i$="true" src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/260305_775362969278_4701772_38616801_1102518_n.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;12 weeks - Baby Bean actually looks like a baby instead of a gummy bear!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-2640436857486222337?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/2640436857486222337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/im-still-here-pulls-preggo-card.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2640436857486222337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2640436857486222337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/im-still-here-pulls-preggo-card.html' title='I&apos;m Still Here ... pulls the preggo card'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-646548749964720289</id><published>2011-06-11T22:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T22:13:59.487-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><title type='text'>The Dinner Debate - Solved!</title><content type='html'>You know the debate I'm talking about...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'What do you want for dinner?'&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes - 'Ummm, I don't care.&amp;nbsp; What do you want?'&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'Eh, I don't care.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It usually goes on like that for a while until one of us ventures out and suggests somewhere.&amp;nbsp; Usually the suggestion is shot down because the other person really does have a preference of where they would like to dine, but they just aren't saying anything.&amp;nbsp; It usually goes something like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes&amp;nbsp;- 'Seriously, where do you want to go?'&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'Well, what about Mexican?'&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes - 'That doesn't really tickle my pickle.&amp;nbsp; What about Chinese?'&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'Umm, I'd rather cut off my pinkie toe.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we are back to square one.&amp;nbsp; It's an endless cycle that usually results in Beefcakes caving about an hour into the whole thing.&amp;nbsp; So, imagine our surprise and shear delight when we happened upon this establishment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/ChineseandMexicanRestaurant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/ChineseandMexicanRestaurant.jpg" t8="true" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;If you are unable to read their lovely sign, the name of the restaurant is 'La China Poblana' and they specialize in Mexican and Chinese cuisine.&amp;nbsp; (Note: I use the term cuisine loosely here.)&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Seriously, how freaking smart is this??&amp;nbsp; With my crude translation ability, I took it to mean 'The China Pepper'.&amp;nbsp; However, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/China_Poblana"&gt;Wikipedia informs me&lt;/a&gt; that it's actually a term for the traditional style of dress worn by Mexican women.&amp;nbsp; And you know that if it's on Wikipedia, it has to be true...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-646548749964720289?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/646548749964720289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/dinner-debate-solved.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/646548749964720289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/646548749964720289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/dinner-debate-solved.html' title='The Dinner Debate - Solved!'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-2273230451268356690</id><published>2011-06-09T11:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-09T11:30:11.154-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>The Baby is Eating my Brain Cells</title><content type='html'>There's a little known fact about pregnancy that the baby eats your brain cells in order to grow.&amp;nbsp; I know you are asking yourself, what about all the food you are shoving in your face?&amp;nbsp; Doesn't the baby use that to grow?&amp;nbsp; No, my friends, that is going straight to my cottage cheese thighs.&amp;nbsp; Depressing, I know.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I can prove that the baby is consuming my brain cells.&amp;nbsp; Not that I'm normally a big genius or anything - I'm prone to my fair share of blonde moments.&amp;nbsp; But, I find that the more pregnant I become (okay, the bigger the baby gets) the dumber I get.&amp;nbsp; At this rate, I'm going to be nothing more than a pile of mush when the baby comes.&amp;nbsp; I hope Miss A is up for guest posting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I had to take my car to the dealer to get some work done.&amp;nbsp; No big deal, but I didn't want to wait around at the dealership.&amp;nbsp; Since it was warranty work, my dealer will provide me with a free rental to use while my car is being serviced.&amp;nbsp; So, I gladly handed over my keys and jumped into a rental.&amp;nbsp; Miss A was at school, so I ran a few errands and then decided to head home and take a nap.&amp;nbsp; Napping is&amp;nbsp;a HIGH priority these days.&amp;nbsp; I drove up to the house and fumbled around for the garage door opener.&amp;nbsp; That's when it hit me - the opener was in my car at the dealership.&amp;nbsp; No problem, I thought - I will just use my house key.&amp;nbsp; All good in theory, except my keys were also with my car at the dealership.&amp;nbsp; I had locked myself out of the house.&amp;nbsp; My bed was literally calling my name, and I was powerless to answer it.&amp;nbsp; It was a sad, sad moment.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later -&amp;nbsp;Beefcakes, Miss A, and myself were going to grab a bite to eat.&amp;nbsp; We had been out of town, so we had to swing by the house and drop off Lucy.&amp;nbsp; My car has a keyless ignition.&amp;nbsp; So, the little plastic thing only has to be inside the car in order to push the button and start the car.&amp;nbsp; It's a bit odd, I know.&amp;nbsp; But, one of the benefits is that you can leave the car running while you go use your keys.&amp;nbsp; We ran by the house and Beefcakes sat in the car with Miss A.&amp;nbsp; I ran Lucy in using the set of keys.&amp;nbsp; I quickly came back out and we were off to the restaurant.&amp;nbsp; Once we got to the place (about 10 miles from our house), I was asking where the keys were so I could lock the car.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes didn't have them.&amp;nbsp; I didn't have them.&amp;nbsp; They weren't in the car.&amp;nbsp; The keys were left at the house.&amp;nbsp; Still following?&amp;nbsp; The car was off at this point and wouldn't start.&amp;nbsp; We were trapped.&amp;nbsp; It was a major fail... So what do you do when you have lemons?&amp;nbsp; You grab vodka!&amp;nbsp; Okay, I can't drink.&amp;nbsp; But, I can eat!&amp;nbsp; We went in for lunch (and remembered to grab the garage door opener).&amp;nbsp; Our lovely neighbor ended up rescuing us...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/pacmanwithwords.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="234" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/pacmanwithwords.jpg" t8="true" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-2273230451268356690?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/2273230451268356690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/baby-is-eating-my-brain-cells.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2273230451268356690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2273230451268356690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/baby-is-eating-my-brain-cells.html' title='The Baby is Eating my Brain Cells'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-276947845034276196</id><published>2011-06-07T10:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T10:07:02.847-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><title type='text'>When is cellulite cute?</title><content type='html'>When it's on top of chunky baby leg rolls!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3556/5808107383_cbc67d5dbe_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3556/5808107383_cbc67d5dbe_b.jpg" t8="true" width="516" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you wish that cellulite was this adorable on adults?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-276947845034276196?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/276947845034276196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/when-is-cellulite-cute.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/276947845034276196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/276947845034276196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/when-is-cellulite-cute.html' title='When is cellulite cute?'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3556/5808107383_cbc67d5dbe_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1759105705655997091</id><published>2011-06-03T09:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T09:46:26.248-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><title type='text'>Join in my grocery shopping pain...</title><content type='html'>I have to go grocery shopping today.&amp;nbsp; I just wanted you to join in my misery, or pleasure (however you'd like to look at it)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://3.gvt0.com/vi/YvxNgdFeWqM/0.jpg"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YvxNgdFeWqM&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YvxNgdFeWqM&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;(There's an amazingly awesome video about the amazingly awesome people you see at Wal-Mart.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1759105705655997091?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1759105705655997091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/join-in-my-grocery-shopping-pain.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1759105705655997091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1759105705655997091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/join-in-my-grocery-shopping-pain.html' title='Join in my grocery shopping pain...'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3612281253722581395</id><published>2011-06-01T11:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T12:02:02.261-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Letters From Uterus'/><title type='text'>Letters from the Uterus - 8 Weeks</title><content type='html'>Oh hey,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Step aside Pam Anderson ... your boobies are making men and breastfed babies drool on sight.&amp;nbsp; Enjoy it while you can.&amp;nbsp; The extra va-va-voom is due to our good friend hormones in preparation for supplying milk when this little human finally leaves me alone.&amp;nbsp; You might need to buy some bigger boulder holders with extra support.&amp;nbsp; Not only are the girls big, but they are probably still sore.&amp;nbsp; So, there will be no motorboating in the future (even if the ta-ta's look like they are begging for it). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you feeling tired?&amp;nbsp; I'm guessing so.&amp;nbsp; It's not just from pushing off advances made by your main squeeze (remember - the bigger boobs will drive them wild).&amp;nbsp; No, your exhaustion comes from, what other than, hormones.&amp;nbsp; That morning sickness that you've been dealing with can also play into your sleepiness.&amp;nbsp; Nothing sucks energy faster than not eating and heaving in the toilet.&amp;nbsp; Plus, potty breaks during the night and being uncomfortable can lead to a less than perfect night of sleep.&amp;nbsp; Don't worry though - you can sleep when this little human is grown.&amp;nbsp; So, maybe in about 18 or so years...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next week,&lt;br /&gt;Wynonna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so busy in here!&amp;nbsp; I'm about the size of a kidney bean, but I'm a mover and a shaker!&amp;nbsp; You can't feel it yet, but I'm swimming and bouncing all over the place!&amp;nbsp; It's a ton of fun!&amp;nbsp; See, my hands and feet formed last week and now I have webbed fingers and toes!&amp;nbsp; I'm more of a fish, than a human at this point.&amp;nbsp; I even have breathing tubes that go from my throat to my developing lungs.&amp;nbsp; No gills though - I'm not really a fish!&amp;nbsp; I'm so smart already!&amp;nbsp; See, my brain and nerve cells are branching out in order to connect with one another form neural pathways.&amp;nbsp; My eyelids completely cover my eyes now and that tail that I was so worried about is almost gone!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you,&lt;br /&gt;Baby Bean&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/Week8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="614" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/Week8.jpg" t8="true" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babycenter.com/"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;﻿ &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;﻿ &lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3612281253722581395?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3612281253722581395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/letters-from-uterus-8-weeks.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3612281253722581395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3612281253722581395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/letters-from-uterus-8-weeks.html' title='Letters from the Uterus - 8 Weeks'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/th_Week8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4143709066607898781</id><published>2011-06-01T11:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T12:03:30.925-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Letters From Uterus'/><title type='text'>Letters from the Uterus - 7 Weeks</title><content type='html'>Hi,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Wynonna. Your uterus.&amp;nbsp; How's it going out there?&amp;nbsp; Do you feel like you've doubled in size recently?&amp;nbsp; Well, you probably didn't.&amp;nbsp; But, I have.&amp;nbsp; I'd say that I've reached my limit, but I'm thinking that I've got quite a bit more growing in my future.&amp;nbsp; That's the good thing about a uterus - we are easily expandable.&amp;nbsp; You should make trash bags out of us...&amp;nbsp;we would hold a ton and never break! Just think about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that the urge to potty is in full force.&amp;nbsp; Not only am I growing, but your blood volume has increased by 10%.&amp;nbsp; The extra fluids swimming around in here mean that you will need to stock up on more toilet paper.&amp;nbsp; Oh, and I am happily putting ample amounts of pressure on your bladder.&amp;nbsp; You'll be sad to know that it only gets worse from here.&amp;nbsp; Just wait until this little human in here starts to kick your bladder like a soccer ball.&amp;nbsp; You'll be peeing your pants before you know it!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from the constant bathroom trips, I'm thinking you probably aren't feeling too hot right now.&amp;nbsp; It's not just in your head - you have morning sickness that can last all day long.&amp;nbsp; Isn't it annoying?&amp;nbsp; I'm happy to report that your picky stomach and dry heaves aren't being felt in here.&amp;nbsp; You are the only one that's miserable now... What's that they say about payback??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next week,&lt;br /&gt;Wynonna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Mama!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big news in here -&amp;nbsp;I'm the size of a blueberry (about half an inch)!!&amp;nbsp;Your little embryo blueberry!&amp;nbsp; I've doubled in size since last week.&amp;nbsp; Isn't that neat?&amp;nbsp; What's even neater is that my hands and feet are forming from my arms and legs.&amp;nbsp; They don't really look like hands and feet yet, more like tiny oars.&amp;nbsp; But, don't worry - I will have them shaped in no time.&amp;nbsp; I know you will want to snack on my toes and fingers when I'm born.&amp;nbsp; It's a little strange, Mom, but you can do what you need to do.&amp;nbsp; Speaking of strange, I have a tail at the moment.&amp;nbsp; It's just an extension of my tailbone, but it's a tail.&amp;nbsp; The word around here is that it will disappear soon.&amp;nbsp; I'm hoping that's true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I have eyelid folds that somewhat cover my little eyes.&amp;nbsp; My eyes already have a bit of color to them!&amp;nbsp; What color do you think they will be?&amp;nbsp; My brain hemispheres are rapidly growing too!&amp;nbsp; My liver is hard at work making red blood cells.&amp;nbsp; Once my bone marrow forms, it will take on this job.&amp;nbsp; But, for now my liver is doing the trick.&amp;nbsp; My appendix and pancreas are in place and ready to produce insulin to help with my digestion.&amp;nbsp; Speaking of digestion, my intestines are growing and bulging into my umbilical cord for the time.&amp;nbsp; The umbilical cord is doing it's job and transferring your oxygen and nutrients to me.&amp;nbsp; Thanks for the help, Mom!!&lt;br /&gt;Love you,&lt;br /&gt;Baby Bean&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/Week7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="614" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/Week7.jpg" t8="true" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babycenter.com/"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4143709066607898781?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4143709066607898781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/letters-from-uterus-7-weeks.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4143709066607898781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4143709066607898781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/06/letters-from-uterus-7-weeks.html' title='Letters from the Uterus - 7 Weeks'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/th_Week7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-7305791256906471541</id><published>2011-05-30T21:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T21:02:28.122-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nugget List'/><title type='text'>Nugget List</title><content type='html'>- I know you are all wondering ... yes, I survived The Rapture.&amp;nbsp; That's the good news.&amp;nbsp; The bad news - apparently the date has now been moved to October 21st.&amp;nbsp; So, we could all still be screwed.&amp;nbsp; I guess we'll find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&amp;nbsp;When I was pregnant with Miss A, Beefcakes told me that my early symptoms were in my head.&amp;nbsp; Let me say that the conversation didn't end well for him... So, this time when I told him how tired I am all the time -&amp;nbsp;he&amp;nbsp;believed me.&amp;nbsp; Well, maybe he&amp;nbsp;didn't, but he's not letting on if he doesn't.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Anyway,&amp;nbsp;it seems like&amp;nbsp;all I've been doing lately is sleeping.&amp;nbsp; That possibly explains my prolonged absence from blogging.&amp;nbsp; I'm barely able to keep my eyes open long enough to&amp;nbsp;take care of Miss A.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Needless-to-say, when I find some free time - I haven't&amp;nbsp;been blogging,&amp;nbsp;or reading other blogs, or commenting on my friend's blogs.&amp;nbsp; I apologize.&amp;nbsp; Please don't take it personally.&amp;nbsp; If you think I've neglected the blog - you should see my house.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I'm pretty sure that Miss A is teething at the moment.&amp;nbsp; Not sure why I feel this way.&amp;nbsp; Maybe it's my motherly intuition speaking to me.&amp;nbsp; What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Anna-teething.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Anna-teething.jpg" t8="true" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Lately, I've been watching several episodes of 'Extreme Couponing'.&amp;nbsp; I have to say, I'm totally intrigued.&amp;nbsp; Part of me thinks these women are cray cray for stocking up on so many items that they admittedly do not use.&amp;nbsp; Part of me wants to try it - just to see if I can.&amp;nbsp; Now, I have no doubt that I could save a boatload of money on cleaning supplies and toiletries.&amp;nbsp; But, what are we supposed to eat for dinner?&amp;nbsp; Can you get any fruits, veggies, or meats for rock bottom prices??&amp;nbsp; We can't really survive on free toothpaste and sports drinks.&amp;nbsp; I haven't given up on my 'dream' of extreme couponing, but I'm not totally committed yet.&amp;nbsp; Any thoughts or tips??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I haven't put anything on here about it, but Miss A was a late clapper.&amp;nbsp; Most kiddos start to clap around 9 months.&amp;nbsp; Not Miss A.&amp;nbsp; She likes to do things at her own sweet pace.&amp;nbsp; And by doing that, she worries me to no end.&amp;nbsp; I honestly thought that she might never clap.&amp;nbsp; My dreams of her attending sporting events, concerts, and golf tournaments slowly started to fade away.&amp;nbsp; I mean, how can she do any of that if she never learned to slam her little hands together?&amp;nbsp; But, my fears were put to rest when she finally&amp;nbsp;figured it out at 15 months.&amp;nbsp; We now play 'Patty Cake' to her little heart's content!&amp;nbsp; The way I look at it, 'Patty Cake' today - front row at Guns N' Roses. My little baby rocker!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&amp;nbsp;I'm happy to report that I haven't had any spotting in a week!&amp;nbsp; Now that I say that, let me knock on some serious wood.&amp;nbsp; Umm, that didn't come out right.&amp;nbsp; Let me knock on any ol' piece of wood a whole bunch.&amp;nbsp; Wait, that won't work either.&amp;nbsp; From what my college roommate always said (Hi Mellie!!) - it's even worse luck to knock more than three times.&amp;nbsp; She also informed me that shoes on a table are bad.&amp;nbsp; The things you can learn from an Italian!&amp;nbsp; Anyway, I'm happy to say that the spotting has stopped for now!&amp;nbsp; *knock, knock, knock with my shoes on the floor*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-7305791256906471541?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/7305791256906471541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/nugget-list_30.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7305791256906471541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7305791256906471541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/nugget-list_30.html' title='Nugget List'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-2131615099026513942</id><published>2011-05-22T20:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T20:36:11.520-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><title type='text'>What's wrong with this picture??</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Babyhangingstation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="476" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Babyhangingstation.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night, while out and about, I was trying to locate a baby changing station.&amp;nbsp; Sadly, I could only find somewhere to hang her for a bit...&amp;nbsp; On the bright side, there were ample amounts of Lysol available.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-2131615099026513942?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/2131615099026513942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/whats-wrong-with-this-picture.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2131615099026513942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2131615099026513942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/whats-wrong-with-this-picture.html' title='What&apos;s wrong with this picture??'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-5772223496406171266</id><published>2011-05-17T09:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T09:48:43.276-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy #3'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Bean'/><title type='text'>Update on Baby Bean</title><content type='html'>I've been writing up a little series that I've titled &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/search/label/Letters%20From%20Uterus"&gt;'Letters from the Uterus'&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I decided to do it in order to compile my own week-by-week pregnancy tracker/milestone/symptom checker/go-to resource.&amp;nbsp; Does that make sense?&amp;nbsp; So, I'm compiling all the possible pregnancy symptoms and weekly baby growth for that.&amp;nbsp; Since my little notes from Wynonna aren't what's actually going on with me, I figured that I would update you on how I'm doing.&amp;nbsp; I know people what to know (or at least I think they do).&amp;nbsp; Okay, I realize that made me sound completely full of myself.&amp;nbsp; I apologize.&amp;nbsp; If you would like to know how my current pregnancy is going - continuing reading.&amp;nbsp; If you don't - well then poop on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to my first appointment at 5 weeks, 0 days.&amp;nbsp; To be honest, I didn't know how far along I was because my periods were all wacky after the miscarriage.&amp;nbsp; So, my doctor used my last known period and dating from the ultrasound to determine that I was 5 weeks.&amp;nbsp; We are still a bit fuzzy on my actual due date, so I'm telling people Christmas Day.&amp;nbsp; Honestly, it doesn't really matter.&amp;nbsp; The first appointment was pretty straight forward.&amp;nbsp; The ultrasound showed the gestational and yolk sacs and everything looked good.&amp;nbsp; All of my blood work came back normal (except my thyroid level - it was low,&amp;nbsp;had&amp;nbsp;it&amp;nbsp;rechecked and the level is now normal).&amp;nbsp; Oh, and I'm STD free.&amp;nbsp; (Was super worried about that one...) My hormone levels were also good. In the doctor's words - 'there's no reason to think that this isn't a viable pregnancy, but there was no reason to think the last pregnancy wasn't viable.'&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/5w0d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="297" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/5w0d.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;5 weeks, 0 days&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ I left the appointment feeling pretty good about things.&amp;nbsp; I started having pretty intense symptoms - all day nausea, heartburn, extreme fatigue, big/sore ta ta's and moodiness.&amp;nbsp; I was so completely thankful to feel like crap.&amp;nbsp; See, with my last pregnancy I felt great.&amp;nbsp; I thought I just got lucky, and then things went horribly wrong.&amp;nbsp; So I was counting my blessings that I was completely useless and puking in public places.&amp;nbsp; It was great ... until my symptoms started to fade away.&amp;nbsp;To clarify, I still had symptoms - they just weren't as strong as before.&amp;nbsp; I freaked out.&amp;nbsp; I knew that a drop in symptoms this early in the pregnancy can be a really bad sign.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;I called my doctor when I was 7 weeks to tell him.&amp;nbsp; Dr. Weinstein knows how nervous I am about everything so he told me to come in to get checked out.&amp;nbsp; I nervously went, expecting the worst.&amp;nbsp; He did an ultrasound and I got to see my sweet baby - and it's little heart pumping away.&amp;nbsp; Everything looked perfect.&amp;nbsp; I was reassured for almost a week.&amp;nbsp; Then one evening, I was going to the bathroom and that's when I saw it - blood.&amp;nbsp; Now, it was a small amount and it was brown (sorry, TMI).&amp;nbsp; I just stared at it.&amp;nbsp; I was pissed.&amp;nbsp; I was sad.&amp;nbsp; I was scared.&amp;nbsp; This is how it all started last time.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called the on-call doctor (because things always happen after hours)&amp;nbsp;to ask him what I should do.&amp;nbsp; He advised me to call first-thing on Monday to change my scheduled Tuesday appointment to Monday.&amp;nbsp; So I did.&amp;nbsp; And I went to my appointment yesterday, again expecting the worst.&amp;nbsp; Dr. Weinstein did an ultrasound.&amp;nbsp; Baby looks great!!&amp;nbsp; Strong heartbeat and growing a few days ahead!!&amp;nbsp; There were no signs of blood in the uterus, so he thinks it's coming from my cervix.&amp;nbsp; He isn't concerned at this point.&amp;nbsp; Apparently one in three women will bleed during their pregnancy.&amp;nbsp; I'm supposed to call him if it worsens.&amp;nbsp; He took some blood to check my progesterone level.&amp;nbsp; I will possibly take supplements, if needed.&amp;nbsp; He put me on pelvic rest (no sex or douching - umm, do people still do that?).&amp;nbsp; No problem for me, but maybe for Beefcakes.&amp;nbsp; Luckily for him, &lt;a href="http://joybehar.blogs.cnn.com/2011/05/12/may-is-national-masturbation-month/"&gt;May is National 'Love Yourself' Month&lt;/a&gt; - so he can put his efforts toward a good cause.&amp;nbsp; The doc said that there's no reason to think that things aren't going to be fine, but he can't guarantee me.&amp;nbsp; So, I'm not really feeling that great about things as of now.&amp;nbsp; I just can't help but think that things are going down the same path as last time.&amp;nbsp; For now, there's not much we can do but wait and pray and abstain from hanky panky.&amp;nbsp; Check, check, and check!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/8w0d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="297" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/8w0d.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;8 weeks, 0 days&lt;br /&gt;Those spots on the right are from the ultrasound film being rubbed - those aren't actually in there.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-5772223496406171266?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/5772223496406171266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/update-on-baby-bean.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5772223496406171266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5772223496406171266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/update-on-baby-bean.html' title='Update on Baby Bean'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-5493355230715003011</id><published>2011-05-13T16:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T16:46:09.877-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lucy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>A Glimpse Into My Morning</title><content type='html'>This morning was particularly unglamorous for me, so in the spirit of full disclosure I decided to write about our adventures...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My neighbor recently purchased a pug puppy named Pepper (I told you about her, but in case you forgot) that we have been watching during the day.&amp;nbsp; Well, the neighbor took a little trip this week and Pepper has been spending a few nights with us - much to Miss A's delight and Lucy's annoyance.&amp;nbsp; See, Lucy is very tolerating of children and other dogs, but she has a full tank of adolescent angst.&amp;nbsp; When she's feeling particularly emotional, this &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2010/08/needed-doggy-therapist.html"&gt;angst shows itself by her peeing in our dining room&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; Nothing makes a pregnant lady crazier than living somewhere that constantly smells like dog piss.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Pepperinstroller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Pepperinstroller.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning started out relatively normal.&amp;nbsp; Miss A woke up and when she decided that she was done conversing with herself in her crib, she cried for me to come get her.&amp;nbsp; I rescued her from the crib, changed her diaper, and then brought her into my room so I could get ready.&amp;nbsp; I picked up Pepper from her kennel and we all (me, Miss A, Lucy, and Pepper)&amp;nbsp;left the room.&amp;nbsp; I gave&amp;nbsp;Miss A&amp;nbsp;the chance to work on going down the stairs while Lucy sprinted to the bottom.&amp;nbsp; I called for her to stay where I could see her.&amp;nbsp; She was out of sight for maybe 1.2 minutes.&amp;nbsp; Once we were on the first floor, I went to take Pepper out.&amp;nbsp; That's when I saw the biggest&amp;nbsp;pile of dog pee in the dining room.&amp;nbsp; I.WAS.PISSED.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to scold Lucy, clean up the pee, feed Miss A, feed Lucy, make Lucy go outside, feed Pepper, take Pepper outside again, feed myself, and clean up in about 15 minutes.&amp;nbsp; I was feeling very accomplished when a bit of morning sickness reared it's ugly head.&amp;nbsp; I moved us all into the living room where I was planning to lay down for a bit while everyone played.&amp;nbsp; It was a good plan in theory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as my head hit the couch,&amp;nbsp;Miss A&amp;nbsp;was there with books to read and&amp;nbsp;Pepper kept trying to jump on the couch for me to hold her.&amp;nbsp; I smelled poop, and thought that it was coming from Miss A.&amp;nbsp; I decided to give her some time to finish because it's a little more than annoying to change a baby mid-poop and then turn around and change her again.&amp;nbsp; A few minutes later I got up to change her diaper when I noticed a stain on the floor by the couch.&amp;nbsp; Pepper had poop on her paws and was jumping - effectively grinding the stain (and smell) into the carpet.&amp;nbsp; I immediately grabbed Pepper and cleaned her paws.&amp;nbsp; As I was working on the stains, I was trying to figure out where the poop came from.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't find it.&amp;nbsp; I did find several other poopy paw prints that required my attention.&amp;nbsp; I set out to clean those, still looking for the source.&amp;nbsp; After several minutes of not being able to locate the offending poo, I determined that someone must have eaten it.&amp;nbsp; I just prayed it wasn't my daughter.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We continued to play, and the smell of poop lingered.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't figure it out.&amp;nbsp; It smelled like it was everywhere and it was driving me crazy.&amp;nbsp; After doing some bloodhound work with my amped up preggo nose, I found some stray poo on one of Anna's books.&amp;nbsp; I thoroughly cleaned it.&amp;nbsp; Still the smell was there. I dug deeper.&amp;nbsp; That's when I hit the poop jackpot.&amp;nbsp; I finally located the poo intruders.&amp;nbsp; So, I disposed of those and cleaned up the area where I found them.&amp;nbsp; I could still smell poop.&amp;nbsp; And that's when it happened - I noticed that the smell was coming from Miss A.&amp;nbsp; I discovered dog poo on the foot and leg of her sleeper.&amp;nbsp; I had a dog poop encrusted baby.&amp;nbsp; Gross.&amp;nbsp; I immediately stripped her down and gave her a bath in hand sanitizer.&amp;nbsp; Then, I scrubbed the living room.&amp;nbsp; I no longer have any stain remover or cleaner, but at least it's poop free (at least I think).&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of it all, I was ready for a stiff drink.&amp;nbsp; However, since drinking alcohol is pretty much frowned upon when you are growing a child - I settled for a nap a little later in the day.&amp;nbsp; Naps are my new drug...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-5493355230715003011?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/5493355230715003011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/glimpse-into-my-morning.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5493355230715003011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5493355230715003011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/glimpse-into-my-morning.html' title='A Glimpse Into My Morning'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-5211707364926302972</id><published>2011-05-10T09:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T12:04:55.203-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Letters From Uterus'/><title type='text'>Letters from the Uterus - 6 Weeks</title><content type='html'>Oh hey,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Wynonna, your uterus again.&amp;nbsp; Just checking in on you.&amp;nbsp; How are you feeling?&amp;nbsp; Crappy I hope.&amp;nbsp; Well, you should since I've dumped all these hormones into your system.&amp;nbsp; Neener, neerer pumpkin eater!&amp;nbsp; If I had a tongue I would stick it out at you.&amp;nbsp; Speaking of pumpkin - does anything sound good to eat?&amp;nbsp; It shouldn't.&amp;nbsp; Between the morning sickness and your bloodhound nose, some (or all) food may be a little off putting.&amp;nbsp; That's alright, you can stand to go without a few meals.&amp;nbsp; And don't worry about the little pest that attached itself to me - it sucks everything it needs from you.&amp;nbsp; Story of your life for the next 18 years, sister.&amp;nbsp; Deal with it.&amp;nbsp; Plus, you'll be spending so much time in 'the John' between peeing, puking, and fighting through the constipation - you won't have time to eat.&amp;nbsp; Here's the diet plan you always wanted.&amp;nbsp; You're welcome.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next week,&lt;br /&gt;Wynonna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Mommy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big news around here - I might only be as big as a nail head, but my jaw, chin, cheeks, eyes, nose, mouth, and ears are forming into the adorable face that you daydream about.&amp;nbsp; Oh, and my heart is ticking away around 100 to 160 times a minute.&amp;nbsp; And if that's not enough, I'm starting to grow arms and legs in the form of protruding buds.&amp;nbsp; I know that doesn't sound super cute.&amp;nbsp; I mean, who&amp;nbsp;wants arm buds?&amp;nbsp; I promise to form them into cute little limbs that you can munch on someday.&amp;nbsp; And I almost forgot, my kidneys, liver, lungs, and intestines are developing.&amp;nbsp; All this growing and developing makes me tired.&amp;nbsp; I think I'll take a little nap now.&amp;nbsp; Mom, you should treat yourself to one as well!&amp;nbsp; Tell Dad I asked you to.&amp;nbsp; He'll understand, I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you,&lt;br /&gt;Baby Bean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/Week6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="614" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/Week6.jpg" t8="true" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.babycenter.com/"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-5211707364926302972?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/5211707364926302972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/letters-from-uterus-6-weeks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5211707364926302972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5211707364926302972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/letters-from-uterus-6-weeks.html' title='Letters from the Uterus - 6 Weeks'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/th_Week6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1587486585509500556</id><published>2011-05-09T21:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T21:05:23.890-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 18</title><content type='html'>I decided that this week's picture for Project 52 should be an artsy-fartsy rendering of the &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/coffee-filter-flowers-for-mothers-day.html"&gt;coffee filter flowers&lt;/a&gt; that we made for gifts for Mother's Day.&amp;nbsp; If you stare at them long enough, I swear the colors actually start to move.&amp;nbsp; Or, that could be the acid that I took before looking at them.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'm only kidding.&amp;nbsp; I'm not sure how one goes about purchasing acid to trip on.&amp;nbsp; I just don't have those types of connections.&amp;nbsp; I'm not even sure what to do with it if I were to get my hands on some.&amp;nbsp; So, in ignorance, I can say that I am kidding about the whole acid thing.&amp;nbsp; Well, and maybe a bit of maternal responsibility comes into play seeing as I am knocked up and all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5223/5694017955_9471a6b3a4_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="440" j8="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5223/5694017955_9471a6b3a4_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1587486585509500556?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1587486585509500556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/project-52-week-18.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1587486585509500556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1587486585509500556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/project-52-week-18.html' title='Project 52: Week 18'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5223/5694017955_9471a6b3a4_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4001003199240948353</id><published>2011-05-09T20:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T20:58:32.763-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 17</title><content type='html'>Add this to the pile of late Project 52 posts. See, I knew I was smart for going with Project 52 instead of 365. Anywho ... This was taken on Easter. It was a rare moment of Miss A looking angelic and standing still. So, I figured that I should commit that to memory. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5027/5694613458_2fe7b0147a_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="588" j8="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5027/5694613458_2fe7b0147a_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4001003199240948353?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4001003199240948353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/project-52-week-17.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4001003199240948353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4001003199240948353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/project-52-week-17.html' title='Project 52: Week 17'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5027/5694613458_2fe7b0147a_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-509837158969556366</id><published>2011-05-08T20:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T20:12:21.175-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='How To Tutorial'/><title type='text'>Coffee Filter Flowers - For Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>We went with the homemade route for Mother's Day this year.&amp;nbsp; You might be thinking 'homemade - way to cheap out.'&amp;nbsp; I prefer to think of it as being sentimental, and crafty.&amp;nbsp; Plus, a mom (or grandma) can't help but love something that's was made by a baby&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;Miss A&amp;nbsp;has a fierce love of coloring, so we figured, why not??&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made a bouquet of coffee filter flowers.&amp;nbsp; Hang with me, they are prettier then they sound.&amp;nbsp; And you don't even have to like coffee to make them.&amp;nbsp; Bonus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep8.jpg" width="424" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you will need:&lt;br /&gt;- Coffee Filters&lt;br /&gt;- Washable Markers&lt;br /&gt;- Spray Bottle&lt;br /&gt;- Drying Rack or Towel&lt;br /&gt;- Pipe Cleaners&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Follow these easy steps:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep1.jpg" width="424" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Color the filters using the markers.&amp;nbsp; Go crazy.&amp;nbsp; Color as much as your little heart desires.&amp;nbsp; You want to make sure to get the outside edges as well - that what will end up showing in the end.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep2.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;You can use any coloring technique that you see fit.&amp;nbsp; Thank the good lord for washable markers, huh? &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep3.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Place your coffee filter art works on a flat surface.&amp;nbsp; Counters work amazingly well for this.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep4.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Spray the filters with your handy spray bottle until completely soaked.&amp;nbsp; The colors will start to run on the filter.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep5.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Place the wet filters on a drying rack or towel and allow to dry completely.&amp;nbsp; You can use this this time to clean up your markered baby.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep6.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Once the filters are completely dry, pinch in the center to create the flower.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep7.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Secure the area that you pinched with a pipe cleaner.&amp;nbsp; Wrap around a few times to create the stem.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/CFFStep8.jpg" width="424" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Arrange your flowers and enjoy!!&amp;nbsp; You don't even need to water them!!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-509837158969556366?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/509837158969556366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/coffee-filter-flowers-for-mothers-day.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/509837158969556366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/509837158969556366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/coffee-filter-flowers-for-mothers-day.html' title='Coffee Filter Flowers - For Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4498987530550344511</id><published>2011-05-05T10:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T10:24:51.898-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nugget List'/><title type='text'>Nugget List</title><content type='html'>- Our entire household has a cold.&amp;nbsp; It started with me catching the crud about a week ago.&amp;nbsp; I passed it along to Miss A, who graciously shared it with Beefcakes.&amp;nbsp; It's common knowledge that a &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2010/11/men-im-calling-you-out.html"&gt;man cold&lt;/a&gt; is the worst affliction on the face of the planet.&amp;nbsp; So, he's been extra whiny lately.&amp;nbsp; I've tried to explain to him that it's just a cold and that he will be fine (and that he just needs to power through it).&amp;nbsp; It's going in one ear and out the other.&amp;nbsp; I also tried to explain to him that I've felt like crap for a couple weeks now and I still manage to watch our child.&amp;nbsp; Again, my words fell on deaf ears... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Speaking of me feeling like crap - morning sickness has made her nasty appearance and it is making quite a scene.&amp;nbsp; I'm talking all-day nausea.&amp;nbsp; Gross.&amp;nbsp; I can't really complain about it.&amp;nbsp; See, with the last pregnancy I had very little symptoms.&amp;nbsp; So I'm telling myself that feeling like crap is a good thing.&amp;nbsp; I'm thankful that I feel this way.&amp;nbsp; Heck, I'm even thankful that I had to run to the bathroom to puke while we were out to eat the other night.&amp;nbsp; I will puke in public all day long if it means&amp;nbsp;the baby's alright!&lt;br /&gt;- Our neighbor recently brought home a 4-lb pug puppy named Pepper (say that 5 times fast).&amp;nbsp; My neighbor works all day, and since the pup only has a bladder the size of my thumbnail, we've been watching Pepper during the day.&amp;nbsp; Pepper has been a massive hit&amp;nbsp;in our house.&amp;nbsp; Pepper loves Miss A and follows her everywhere she goes.&amp;nbsp; Lucy loves Pepper - and is right at her little heels.&amp;nbsp; So, there's a little train of bodies around here.&amp;nbsp; Plus, what's better to play 'baby' with than a real, live puppy?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Pepperinstroller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Pepperinstroller.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I wrote a while back about the fact that &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/my-husband-is-completely-oblivious.html"&gt;Beefcakes is completely and totally oblivious&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; Well, we were attending a wedding the other weekend&amp;nbsp;and had just found a table at the reception.&amp;nbsp; This exceptionally beautiful young lady waltzes over to the table next to us to claim her seat.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes looks at me and with all the seriousness in the world, he asks 'Did she have a different dress on at the ceremony?&amp;nbsp; I could have sworn she was wearing green earlier.'&amp;nbsp; I simply stared at him for a few moments.&amp;nbsp; So, the man who didn't notice&amp;nbsp;when his wife, and mother of his child, cut off half of her hair - notices when a stranger (a beautiful one at that)&amp;nbsp;has a wardrobe change.&amp;nbsp; Hmmm.&amp;nbsp; It appears as if we have a case of selective obliviousness.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- On a final note, we are participating&amp;nbsp;in the March for Babies walk this weekend.&amp;nbsp; All of the money that is raised goes toward fighting prematurity - a wonderful cause!&amp;nbsp; So, if you could find it in your hearts to donate some money, I will love you forever!!&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.marchforbabies.org/s_team_page.asp?seid=1564604"&gt;Go here to donate!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4498987530550344511?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4498987530550344511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/nugget-list.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4498987530550344511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4498987530550344511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/nugget-list.html' title='Nugget List'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-7357069813250080346</id><published>2011-05-03T09:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T12:08:18.849-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Letters From Uterus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy #3'/><title type='text'>Letters from the Uterus - 5 Weeks</title><content type='html'>Hey Lady,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's your uterus here.&amp;nbsp; Hi!&amp;nbsp; We've never officially met.&amp;nbsp; My name is Wynonna and I'm about to eff your world up over the next few months.&amp;nbsp; It's not just me.&amp;nbsp; Part of the problem is this little human that you've decided to grow in me.&amp;nbsp; I mean, why would you do that?&amp;nbsp; It's not like I want to have things attached to me so that I have to leach off hormones, grow to an astronomical size, and then rhythmically&amp;nbsp;squeeze myself until I'm able to push a watermelon through a straw.&amp;nbsp; Have you ever thought of my side of things?&amp;nbsp; Seriously, being a uterus is not glamorous.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week things have started to get a little crazy in here.&amp;nbsp; You can blame it all on the hormones that I've been so&amp;nbsp;graciously generated for you.&amp;nbsp; Now that you have a nice level of hormone cocktail pulsing through your body, you are likely&amp;nbsp;feeling pretty crappy.&amp;nbsp; This includes feeling like you could hurl at any moment, sore knockers, frequent pee pees, the urge to sleep all day and night, lots of spit, and oddball food cravings/aversions.&amp;nbsp; Oh, add to that list psycho mood swings that&amp;nbsp;will make that guy you call Beefcakes run and hide in a cabinet.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to tell you that things are going to get better - but they really won't.&amp;nbsp; But, if you promise to hang in there, I promise to try and not screw it up this time.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next week,&lt;br /&gt;Wynonna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How's it going out there?!?&amp;nbsp; It's been a busy week in here.&amp;nbsp; I'm growing like crazy, yet I'm only the size of a&amp;nbsp;sesame seed.&amp;nbsp; I don't really look like a baby just yet - more like a tadpole.&amp;nbsp; I even have a tail.&amp;nbsp; Here's hoping that the whole tail thing goes away at some point. Would you still love me if I was born with a tail? You always say that you wanted another puppy.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little biology lesson for you - I'm made up of three layers: the ectoderm, mesoderm, and endoderm.&amp;nbsp; I bet you didn't know that, huh?&amp;nbsp; How does it feel to have a genius embryo? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of genius, my neural tube is forming from the ectoderm.&amp;nbsp; My brain, spinal cord, nerves, and backbone will grow from the neural tube.&amp;nbsp; The ectoderm will eventually grow into my skin, hair, nails, mammary and sweat glands, and tooth enamel.&amp;nbsp; Isn't that crazy?&amp;nbsp; My mesoderm is beginning to grow my heart and circulatory system.&amp;nbsp; This week, my wittle heart will start to divide into tiny chambers so that it beat.&amp;nbsp; I'm working hard on getting a strong heartbeat for you to see at your next appointment!&amp;nbsp; My mesoderm will eventually form my muscles, cartilage, bone, and subcutaneous tissue.&amp;nbsp; My endoderm layer is here, but not completely active yet.&amp;nbsp; Pretty soon, it will create my lungs, intestines, urinary system, thyroid, liver, and pancreas.&amp;nbsp; For now, a rough placenta and umbilical cord are in place and functioning.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, better get back to growing.&amp;nbsp; Look forward to talking to you next week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you,&lt;br /&gt;Baby Bean&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/Week5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="614" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/Week5.jpg" t8="true" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/Week5.jpg"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-7357069813250080346?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/7357069813250080346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/letters-from-uterus-5-weeks.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7357069813250080346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7357069813250080346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/05/letters-from-uterus-5-weeks.html' title='Letters from the Uterus - 5 Weeks'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Letters%20from%20the%20Uterus/th_Week5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3381374888042032762</id><published>2011-04-30T09:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-30T09:42:03.066-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lucy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><title type='text'>Lucy-Induced Heart Attack</title><content type='html'>We are attending a wedding in our hometown today.&amp;nbsp; So, the whole crew (including our pup, Lucy) piled in the car and made our way to my parents house last night.&amp;nbsp; Lucy always comes with us because my parents also have a golden retriever, his&amp;nbsp;name is Mr. Bo Jangles,&amp;nbsp;and the two run around like&amp;nbsp;nut jobs the whole time we are visiting.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Plus, who wants to spend money on boarding a dog when she can tag along?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually it's no big deal.&amp;nbsp; We feed Lucy breakfast and then she goes outside to play with Bo all day.&amp;nbsp; Their day consists of doing dog things, begging by the window to come in with the humans, drinking large amounts of water, and the occasional run-by humping.&amp;nbsp; We try to discourage the whole humping thing since they are technically related.&amp;nbsp; We might be in Missouri, but incest is strictly frowned upon - even in the dog world.&amp;nbsp; On the up-side, they are both fixed, so their efforts are fruitless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning started like all others.&amp;nbsp; Alex fed Lucy and let her out back to play with Bo.&amp;nbsp; While we were feeding Anna breakfast, my mom noticed Bo running down the street.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; We checked the backyard - a gate had been left open and Lucy was gone.&amp;nbsp; Immediately we panicked.&amp;nbsp; How did they get out? Where was Lucy? Will my heart start beating again?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were able to get Bo back to the house, but there was still no sign of Lucy.&amp;nbsp; Alex took off by foot to try and find her.&amp;nbsp; I jumped in the car and took off.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't see her.&amp;nbsp; It was scary.&amp;nbsp; I looped back around and picked up Alex.&amp;nbsp; We were getting ready to head down another street when my phone rang.&amp;nbsp; The sweetest little voice you could possibly imagine said "Hi, I found your dog." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, Lucy wears a collar and a tag at all times.&amp;nbsp; The tag has my cell phone number on it.&amp;nbsp; (She also has an implanted chip with my contact info programmed in it - in case her collar fell off.)&amp;nbsp; Having the tag made was the best money I have ever spent.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We raced to the sweet lady's house and scooped up our puppy.&amp;nbsp; I scolded her for giving me a big scare and then had a good little hormonal cry.&amp;nbsp; I'm hoping my heart starts beating again at some point...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/LucyandBo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="476" j8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/LucyandBo.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3381374888042032762?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3381374888042032762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/lucy-induced-heart-attack.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3381374888042032762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3381374888042032762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/lucy-induced-heart-attack.html' title='Lucy-Induced Heart Attack'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1327222942475498704</id><published>2011-04-25T10:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-25T10:19:43.797-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Making'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy #3'/><title type='text'>'A Stork Built Its Nest On Top Of My Garage'</title><content type='html'>Any 'Glee' fans out there?&amp;nbsp; I blame my sister for getting me hooked.&amp;nbsp; When I was stuck in the hospital before I had Miss A, my sis brought me 'Glee, Season 1'.&amp;nbsp; What else was I going to do, but watch - right?&amp;nbsp; So, what does this have to do with anything, you ask?&amp;nbsp; Well Brittany was telling people that she knew she was preggers because she saw a stork build its nest on her garage.&amp;nbsp; That's how she thought babies were made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I know exactly how babies are made (if you are still unsure, I'd be happy to fill you in).&amp;nbsp; I also know that finding out you are knocked up has nothing to do with storks, or nests, or garages.&amp;nbsp; It has everything to do with peeing on sticks.&amp;nbsp; Which I recently did:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Positivetestcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="326" i8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Positivetestcropped.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;There's no denying that line on the left - there's a bun in my oven (hopefully of the sticky variety)!!&amp;nbsp; I'm due right around Christmas.&amp;nbsp; I realize that I only recently informed all of&amp;nbsp;my beautiful readers that we&amp;nbsp;are trying.&amp;nbsp; From now on, please refer to me only as 'Fertile Mertile'.&amp;nbsp; I swear Beefcakes just looked at me and I was impregnated.&amp;nbsp; (Again - that's not how it actually happens.&amp;nbsp; I won't go into detail.&amp;nbsp; My mother reads this and that would make for an uncomfortable moment sometime down the road.)&amp;nbsp; I will add that clearly I don't have a problem with the whole 'getting pregnant' thing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It's the 'staying pregnant' part that I've historically had issues with.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note, I will tell you that I'm scared.&amp;nbsp; Don't get me wrong, I'm really excited.&amp;nbsp; But I'm terrified of another miscarriage.&amp;nbsp; I'm terrified of the possibility of preterm labor.&amp;nbsp; I'm terrified of all of it.&amp;nbsp; I have zero 'blissfully unaware' thoughts.&amp;nbsp; Maybe you should call me 'Anxious Alice' instead.&amp;nbsp; Part of me says that I shouldn't get attached until I'm somewhat&amp;nbsp;in the clear. But then the rational side of me says that there's no way in hell that I can't automatically love this baby.&amp;nbsp; It's just how I'm wired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you need me - I'll be huddled in the corner for the next 9 months, holding my breath, praying for the best, and expecting the worst.&amp;nbsp; Maybe the most fitting name for me is 'Pessamistic Peggy'?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1327222942475498704?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1327222942475498704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/stork-built-its-nest-on-top-of-my.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1327222942475498704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1327222942475498704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/stork-built-its-nest-on-top-of-my.html' title='&apos;A Stork Built Its Nest On Top Of My Garage&apos;'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-2099530072812370600</id><published>2011-04-24T09:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T09:00:06.592-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><title type='text'>The Easter Bunny Doesn't Age Well</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I hope everyone is having a fabulous Easter!&amp;nbsp; We took Miss A to visit the our furry friend that pops up this time of year.&amp;nbsp; I looked around and found her picture from last year. What a difference a year makes. I'm not just talking about&amp;nbsp;Miss A here.&amp;nbsp; Let's look at how Mr. Easter Bunny has aged this year.&amp;nbsp; Aside from the obvious wardrobe change, I noticed that he forked out the money for Lasik.&amp;nbsp; Good choice Easter Bunny.&amp;nbsp; Glasses probably get in the way of hiding eggs.&amp;nbsp; Now that I think about it, he might not have gotten Lasik and instead opted for colored contacts.&amp;nbsp; Notice how blue his eyes have gotten.&amp;nbsp; It's a mystery.&amp;nbsp; It's also clear to me that Mr. Easter Bunny is also buying into the whole 'West-coast' body image thing.&amp;nbsp; Notice the smaller nose - probably from a discrete nose job by a fancy-schmancy bunny plastic surgeon.&amp;nbsp; Also notice the tan and lack of eyebrows.&amp;nbsp; I will say that he looks like he's slimmed down a bit, but is it really worth it?&amp;nbsp; Apparently the entire world is focused on appearance ... even the Easter Bunny hasn't escaped it. So sad...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnaandEasterBunny2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" i8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnaandEasterBunny2011.jpg" width="281" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZinUD3_OFdM/S7uGSKhpDcI/AAAAAAAAAL0/2FyQtvDISiw/s1600/Anna+Easter+Bunny+2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" i8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZinUD3_OFdM/S7uGSKhpDcI/AAAAAAAAAL0/2FyQtvDISiw/s400/Anna+Easter+Bunny+2010.jpg" width="286" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Pardon the ranting.&amp;nbsp; I do hope that everyone has wonderful Easter holiday!!&amp;nbsp; Try to eat as much candy as you can fit in your face and don't think twice about looking 'LA Ready'!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-2099530072812370600?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/2099530072812370600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/easter-bunny-doesnt-age-well.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2099530072812370600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2099530072812370600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/easter-bunny-doesnt-age-well.html' title='The Easter Bunny Doesn&apos;t Age Well'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZinUD3_OFdM/S7uGSKhpDcI/AAAAAAAAAL0/2FyQtvDISiw/s72-c/Anna+Easter+Bunny+2010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-204135292608121476</id><published>2011-04-23T09:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T09:00:04.923-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 16</title><content type='html'>Since this weekend is Easter, I decided to snap a picture of my front door wreath for this week's Project 52.&amp;nbsp; I found this little guy at Target and I think it's eggsellent!&amp;nbsp; Hehe.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't help myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5106/5640818792_9e5f4bfdf4_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="446" i8="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5106/5640818792_9e5f4bfdf4_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-204135292608121476?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/204135292608121476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/project-52-week-16.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/204135292608121476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/204135292608121476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/project-52-week-16.html' title='Project 52: Week 16'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5106/5640818792_9e5f4bfdf4_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-8439608426563324581</id><published>2011-04-21T10:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-21T10:27:41.489-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Unglam Mommy Club'/><title type='text'>The Unglamorous Mommy Club - New Member</title><content type='html'>So, I fully realize that I'm not the only non-Martha mother out there.&amp;nbsp; Well, at least I tell myself that to sleep at night.&amp;nbsp; I'm assuming there are other unglamorous moms as well.&amp;nbsp; But, you know what they say about assuming...&amp;nbsp;In order to validate myself, I'm officially starting 'The Unglamorous Mommy Club'.&amp;nbsp; I figured that it would be a place for us all to meet and share stories.&amp;nbsp; Kind of like a support group.&amp;nbsp; We can bond together in our&amp;nbsp;lack of perfection or you can use it as a tool to feel better about yourself.&amp;nbsp; It's totally up to you. Nothing like a little reverse mompetition, right?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without further ado, the first inductee to 'The Unglamorous Mommy Club' is Jami.&amp;nbsp;You see, earlier this month I tweeted the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Found dog food in Miss A's mouth. If you need me I'll just be sitting here waiting on my 'Mother of the Year' award."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jami quickly replied and passed&amp;nbsp;a picture of her adorably squishy son, Riley sharing a bite of kibble with their dog.&amp;nbsp; Thank you, Jami!&amp;nbsp; I totally feel better about myself now!&amp;nbsp; Seriously though, what's wrong with a little dog food?&amp;nbsp; The way I see it, the child is just getting a little more protein in.&amp;nbsp; On another note, I'm going to be pissed if Jami gets her 'Mother of the Year' award before me... Off to check the mailbox again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Jamissonandthedogfood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" i8="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Jamissonandthedogfood.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking that it's lonely in the land of imperfectness, I thought I would reach out to fellow mothers.&amp;nbsp; Do you have a picture or story that illustrates a particularly unglamorous moment in your trek down mommyhood lane?&amp;nbsp; Send them to me at&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="mailto:theunglamorousmommy@gmail.com"&gt;theunglamorousmommy@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;!! I would love to feature you and add you to my club!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-8439608426563324581?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/8439608426563324581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/unglamorous-mommy-club-new-member.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8439608426563324581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8439608426563324581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/unglamorous-mommy-club-new-member.html' title='The Unglamorous Mommy Club - New Member'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-417396142276682946</id><published>2011-04-18T21:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-18T21:29:25.105-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Preemies'/><title type='text'>Pry Open Your Wallets for Babies!!</title><content type='html'>Anyone who has been reading my little blog for a descent amount of time knows that premature birth has played a major role in my trip down motherhood lane.&amp;nbsp; For those of you that haven't been around that long (Hi! Welcome! I do hope you'll stay and play!), premature birth has played a major role in my trip down motherhood lane.&amp;nbsp; When my seemingly normal pregnancy resulted in a &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2010/02/wait-is-over.html"&gt;terrifying delivery&lt;/a&gt; of a 33-weeker - everything I thought I knew about having a baby went right out the window.&amp;nbsp; We were totally unprepared for the NICU stay and possibilities of complications.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I bringing this up, you ask?&amp;nbsp; Allow me to tell you. &lt;a href="http://www.marchofdimes.com/"&gt;March of Dimes&lt;/a&gt; (who is working to fight prematurity) is holding their annual March for Babies fundraising walk.&amp;nbsp; Since Beefcakes and myself are so passionate about the cause, we started a team&amp;nbsp;to walk and raise money.&amp;nbsp; Team &lt;a href="http://www.marchforbabies.org//s_team_page.asp?seid=1564604"&gt;'Picked Before Ripe'&lt;/a&gt; is currently seeking donations.&amp;nbsp; So, be a doll and go &lt;a href="http://www.marchforbabies.org//s_team_page.asp?seid=1564604"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to donate to a wonderful cause!&amp;nbsp; I promise to love you forever.&amp;nbsp; Seriously, you should donate to our team because no one should have this be the first view of their precious new baby:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/17253_631218251448_4701772_36363168_305678_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" r6="true" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/17253_631218251448_4701772_36363168_305678_n.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-417396142276682946?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/417396142276682946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/pry-open-your-wallets-for-babies.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/417396142276682946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/417396142276682946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/pry-open-your-wallets-for-babies.html' title='Pry Open Your Wallets for Babies!!'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3704584808806042491</id><published>2011-04-16T21:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T21:17:44.620-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 15</title><content type='html'>The only thing I love more than sweet, little baby sausage toes - are sweet, little baby sausage toes in flippies.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5141/5626331092_0ba8ff66b2_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="468" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5141/5626331092_0ba8ff66b2_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3704584808806042491?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3704584808806042491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/project-52-week-15.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3704584808806042491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3704584808806042491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/project-52-week-15.html' title='Project 52: Week 15'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5141/5626331092_0ba8ff66b2_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-499708896906114718</id><published>2011-04-15T14:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T14:35:22.410-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Making'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adulthood'/><title type='text'>I'm Officially Gladys Kravitz and I'm Not Ashamed</title><content type='html'>Beefcakes never fails to amaze me.&amp;nbsp; When he got home from work the other evening,&amp;nbsp;he excitedly ran in the house and asked me if I saw the kids in the gazebo.&amp;nbsp; (Our street has medians in the center and a gazebo sits in the median in front of our house.&amp;nbsp; I just wanted you to be caught up.)&amp;nbsp; Now, I was a bit perplexed because Beefcakes doesn't notice anything - not even when &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/my-husband-is-completely-oblivious.html"&gt;I got most of my hair chopped off&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; So, I was thinking that it had to be something pretty big for him to even give it a glance.&amp;nbsp; Let me tell you, I was right.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the cover my dining room windows, I watched these two teenagers completely going at it in the gazebo.&amp;nbsp; I mean, it was raunchy.&amp;nbsp; No wonder Beefcakes noticed... So, I did the only thing I could think of at the time (besides picking my jaw&amp;nbsp;up off the ground)&amp;nbsp;- I&amp;nbsp;snapped some&amp;nbsp;pictures.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT1.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT3.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT4.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT5.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/HT6.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;During all of the straddling, ass grabbing, and&amp;nbsp;making out, Beefcakes was rooting for the guy.&amp;nbsp; He was excited to see another guy getting a little action - kind of like rooting for his team.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't until I gently reminded him that Miss A will be that age at some point, that he started to get a little upset.&amp;nbsp; Our conversation went a little something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes: 'Yeah little buddy!&amp;nbsp; That's what I'm talking about!'&lt;br /&gt;Me: 'Seriously? You really think this is okay?'&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes: 'Heck yeah! Lucky guy!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Will you&amp;nbsp;go make out in the gazebo with me?'&lt;br /&gt;Me: 'No thanks, hun.&amp;nbsp; Um, you do realize that your daughter will be that age at some point, right?&amp;nbsp; Are you going to be alright with her sneaking off to gazebos with a boy? I mean, we are looking at why the show&amp;nbsp;'16 and Pregnant' has come about.'&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes: 'That sonofab*tch.&amp;nbsp; I'll kill him.'&lt;br /&gt;Me: 'That's more like it.'&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes: 'But, seriously, can we go make out in the gazebo?' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-499708896906114718?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/499708896906114718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/im-officially-gladys-kravitz-and-im-not.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/499708896906114718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/499708896906114718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/im-officially-gladys-kravitz-and-im-not.html' title='I&apos;m Officially Gladys Kravitz and I&apos;m Not Ashamed'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1269808301443773566</id><published>2011-04-13T09:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T09:04:00.813-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photo Essay'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Activities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><title type='text'>A Trip to the Zoo: Photo Essay</title><content type='html'>I mentioned the other day that &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/nugget-list.html"&gt;Beefcakes and I haven't spent very much quality time together&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; Not THAT kind of quality time.&amp;nbsp; Get your head out of the gutter.&amp;nbsp; You're so dirty.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes decided that enough was enough and he used one of his vacation days last week to take his ladies to the zoo.&amp;nbsp; We are lucky enough to have a &lt;a href="http://www.stlzoo.org/"&gt;wonderful zoo&lt;/a&gt; just down the road from us.&amp;nbsp; Spoiled,&amp;nbsp;I tell you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we loaded up and headed toward the animals.&amp;nbsp; When we got there, we picked this pretty little flower from the side of the path.&amp;nbsp; She was pretty excited to tag along with us. Can't say that I blame her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5269/5607125448_1cb8e3397f_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5269/5607125448_1cb8e3397f_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We ended up finding some animals that were taller than Beefcakes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Not an easy feat, I will add.&amp;nbsp; Little note to the readers - giraffes are kept in really tall cages.&amp;nbsp; Really, really tall cages. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4111/5607125474_113d1e7151_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" r6="true" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4111/5607125474_113d1e7151_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Our little flower was excited to be there.&amp;nbsp; That, or she was trying to eat the camera.&amp;nbsp; Serves me right for always shoving it in her sweet little face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5181/5607125478_141b231831_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5181/5607125478_141b231831_b.jpg" width="606" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;The zoo trip marked the first attempt at Miss A riding on our shoulders.&amp;nbsp; She freaking loved it.&amp;nbsp; The jury is still out for Beefcakes.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5187/5607125488_713dcb0572_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5187/5607125488_713dcb0572_b.jpg" width="424" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Beefcakes and I have been going to this particular zoo since we started walking.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes always talks about the penguin exhibit.&amp;nbsp; The problem is, the several times that we have visited the zoo as a couple, we were never able to locate the stupid penguins.&amp;nbsp; It became our running joke.&amp;nbsp; Like, where did you hide the extra toilet paper??&amp;nbsp; Oh, it's next to the penguin exhibit - so I'll never find it?&amp;nbsp; Or, Santa must live in a little house right outside of the penguins and next door to the Easter Bunny.&amp;nbsp; Clearly I thought he was full of poop.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;And then it happened.&amp;nbsp; We wandered by an area and noticed people walking into a door.&amp;nbsp; We were curious, so we followed.&amp;nbsp; And wouldn't you know it.&amp;nbsp; This is what we found:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5227/5607125494_629ddac4b0_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5227/5607125494_629ddac4b0_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;PENGUINS!!!!&amp;nbsp; Tons of penguins.&amp;nbsp; They were all just hanging out, dressed up in their finest with nowhere to go.&amp;nbsp; I swear I heard them laugh at me when I looked around for Santa.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes felt extremely validated.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5184/5606585305_fbf74797c5_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5184/5606585305_fbf74797c5_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;A certain little miss loved the little guys.&amp;nbsp; They were splashing around in the water.&amp;nbsp; I swear that she would have jumped in with them if she could have&amp;nbsp;wrestled herself&amp;nbsp;free.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5024/5606585313_ec4bf902cf_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="438" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5024/5606585313_ec4bf902cf_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Miss A: "Hey there wittle birdie.&amp;nbsp; Can I come and play?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Mr. Puffin: "Sure thing small fry.&amp;nbsp; Just ditch the big guy!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5301/5606585323_30db314349_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5301/5606585323_30db314349_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Mr. Puffin: "And ditch this weirdo that keeps sticking this stupid camera in my face."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Miss A: "I know, right?&amp;nbsp; Isn't it annoying?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1269808301443773566?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1269808301443773566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/trip-to-zoo-photo-essay.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1269808301443773566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1269808301443773566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/trip-to-zoo-photo-essay.html' title='A Trip to the Zoo: Photo Essay'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5269/5607125448_1cb8e3397f_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1395189035607006105</id><published>2011-04-10T13:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T13:58:26.283-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 13 and 14</title><content type='html'>Ummmm, it occurred to me that I forgot about Project 52 last week.&amp;nbsp; For those of you that were eagerly checking for my weekly picture - I apologize.&amp;nbsp; I feel horrible.&amp;nbsp; I really do.&amp;nbsp; So, to make it up to you I'm going to post two weeks worth of Project 52 pictures.&amp;nbsp; You read that right - TWO WEEKS!! Doesn't it feel like Christmas??&amp;nbsp; Or maybe your birthday?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the zoo on Friday.&amp;nbsp; More on that later, but there was one picture that was just too amazing to let slip by in a later post.&amp;nbsp; Here's the backstory - there's a children's&amp;nbsp;area where you can pet goats.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Miss A&amp;nbsp;ran around chasing the goats and attempted to eat goat poop.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't the most shining example of my parenting abilities.&amp;nbsp; Oh well.&amp;nbsp; She happened upon a grumpy old goat laying on a bench.&amp;nbsp; I snapped some pictures of her trying to make friends.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't until I uploaded the pictures to my computer that I realized the goat's sheer displeasure.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5030/5606585393_426f71f0e4_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="384" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5030/5606585393_426f71f0e4_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think that little guy is thinking?&amp;nbsp; I'm assuming it's something along the lines of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;'If one more little human tries to touch me, I'm going to freaking lose it.&amp;nbsp;I swear&amp;nbsp;on this metal bench.&amp;nbsp; ONE MORE KID AND I'M GOING TO MAKE A SCENE. AND THE SCENE IS GOING TO BE BAAAAAAAD.&amp;nbsp; REALLY BAAAAAAAD.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think Mr. Goat is thinking?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And because I promised another picture to you, here's one of some pretty flowers.&amp;nbsp; It's officially Spring! I'm calling it!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5189/5606585361_2edc1252bb_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="172" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5189/5606585361_2edc1252bb_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1395189035607006105?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1395189035607006105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/project-52-week-13-and-14.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1395189035607006105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1395189035607006105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/project-52-week-13-and-14.html' title='Project 52: Week 13 and 14'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5030/5606585393_426f71f0e4_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1680218761635897447</id><published>2011-04-08T09:00:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-08T09:00:13.080-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adulthood'/><title type='text'>Terror and Silver Beaves at the Gym</title><content type='html'>I've been a good little Weight Watcher-er lately and have been hitting the gym to get a little exercise in.&amp;nbsp; Let me clarify that 'hitting the gym' involves dragging myself kicking and screaming to that horrid place.&amp;nbsp; It's an internal struggle that I'm grappling with.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a water aerobics class that meets on Monday mornings.&amp;nbsp; Me and my over-60 girlfriends splash around for an hour and then head off to the locker room to run around naked and towel smack each other while we congratulate ourselves on the great workout and wait for open showers.&amp;nbsp; I'm kidding about the towel smacking.&amp;nbsp; My new friends are much too fragile for those shenanigans.&amp;nbsp; I'm not kidding about the whole naked thing.&amp;nbsp; I wish I was.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past Monday, I went to class and as soon as it was over I ran into the locker room so I could claim one of the showers.&amp;nbsp; Waiting for a shower means extra silver beaver sightings.&amp;nbsp; It doesn't really make sense to shower at home because I'll just end up soaking wet by the time I get to the car.&amp;nbsp; So, I go to my locker to fetch my shampoo.&amp;nbsp; I attempted to open my combo lock.&amp;nbsp; It wouldn't open.&amp;nbsp; I did the code again.&amp;nbsp; Nothing.&amp;nbsp; I tried again.&amp;nbsp; Locked.&amp;nbsp; I began to panic.&amp;nbsp; Again.&amp;nbsp; Nothing.&amp;nbsp; My mind was racing.&amp;nbsp; There I was - soaking wet in a swimsuit and flip flops.&amp;nbsp; My towel, clothes, phone, wallet, and keys were locked.&amp;nbsp; Miss A was playing in the kids area unaware of the terror that her mommy was going through.&amp;nbsp; I was frantic.&amp;nbsp; The silver beavers were migrating.&amp;nbsp; The showers were filling.&amp;nbsp; I was still locked out.&amp;nbsp; I tried three more times.&amp;nbsp; The lock remained locked, hanging there - mocking me.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then realized the reality of my situation.&amp;nbsp; Silver beaves were the least of my worries then.&amp;nbsp; What if I couldn't get the lock open?&amp;nbsp; What do I do?&amp;nbsp; Do I jiggle my way to the front desk in a swimsuit, trailing water, and ask for help?&amp;nbsp; Do I borrow a cell phone and call Beefcakes to come rescue me?&amp;nbsp; Do I look for a black hole to jump into?&amp;nbsp; Is it possible to actually die from embarrassment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was desperately trying the lock, praying, willing, and begging the stupid thing to open.&amp;nbsp; I told myself that I was going to be the laughing stock of the gym.&amp;nbsp; I would have to cancel my membership.&amp;nbsp; We would probably have to move to another town.&amp;nbsp; There was no way this little situation was going to end well.&amp;nbsp; In my desperation, I realized that every time I attempted to open the S-O-B I started by turning it to the right.&amp;nbsp; I calmed down enough to tell my fingers to try turning it left to start.&amp;nbsp; And just like that, the lock popped open.&amp;nbsp; I swear I heard it laugh at me.&amp;nbsp; So, it's safe to say that my hair is blonde - even when wet.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/combination-padlock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/combination-padlock.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Can you hear it laughing? I want to wipe that smug look off it's metallic little face.&amp;nbsp; I hate you.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1680218761635897447?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1680218761635897447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/terror-and-silver-beaves-at-gym.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1680218761635897447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1680218761635897447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/terror-and-silver-beaves-at-gym.html' title='Terror and Silver Beaves at the Gym'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-6728786976422035909</id><published>2011-04-06T08:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T08:36:32.003-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nugget List'/><title type='text'>Nugget List</title><content type='html'>- This is shaping up to be another super, insanely, busy week for us.&amp;nbsp; I have something every evening (class, group meeting, etc).&amp;nbsp; So, our days have consisted of me being with Miss A during the day and then&amp;nbsp; hitting the door as soon as Beefcakes comes home.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes, if you are reading this - Hi! Remember me?&amp;nbsp; It's that sexy lady you said 'I do' to a few years ago.&amp;nbsp; I just want you to know that I miss you you and hope to spend some quality time with you when things settle down.&amp;nbsp; So, maybe a date night in about 40 years?&amp;nbsp; Sounds like fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- We have officially started to try for another baby.&amp;nbsp; I'm excited and terrified.&amp;nbsp; The &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2010/12/im-not-seeing-heartbeat.html"&gt;miscarriage&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;was a game changer.&amp;nbsp; But, we want to have another little snot nose running around.&amp;nbsp; So, I'm placing my uterus in a state of high alert.&amp;nbsp; Obviously it takes two to tango - our current schedule didn't really get the memo.&amp;nbsp; (See above)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/uterus2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/uterus2.jpg" width="560" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://fiveprime.org/hivemind/Tags/bethannshannon"&gt;Picture Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;- Speaking of baby making, I've always wondered why it's acceptable to talk about trying for another baby.&amp;nbsp; I mean,&amp;nbsp;I'm assuming we&amp;nbsp;all know how babies are made - so we know what has to happen to make one.&amp;nbsp; Think about it. It's perfectly fine to have a conversation with a person (or a complete stranger) about trying for a baby.&amp;nbsp; It's completely unacceptable to have a conversation with a person (and definitely a complete stranger) about the last time you fooled around.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- My new official favorite sound is that of little feet in footed pajamas as they walk across tile.&amp;nbsp; The skid proofing makes this delicious little scuffling noise.&amp;nbsp; I heart it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- We've been working on &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/lesson-in-spooning.html"&gt;spooning&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;some more.&amp;nbsp; I think it's going pretty good.&amp;nbsp; I'm thinking that at some point before Miss A heads off to college, she will figure out how to feed herself with a spoon and not end up with a food facial.&amp;nbsp; At least I hope so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/1Annawithspoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="476" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/1Annawithspoon.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I've been a major slacker (see very top) and need to acknowledge some of my bloggy buddies for giving me the Stylish Blogger Award.&amp;nbsp; Thank you ladies for honoring me!!&amp;nbsp; I feel so loved!!&amp;nbsp; Honestly, it makes me feel a little less unglamorous.&amp;nbsp; Pardon the double negative.&amp;nbsp; I haven't been following the rules with the award because you are supposed to list facts about yourself and then pass it along to other bloggers.&amp;nbsp; No, I'm going to be greedy and keep it all to myself.&amp;nbsp; MUAHAHAHAHA. That was the best evil laugh that I could do.&amp;nbsp; But, I would like to thank &lt;a href="http://1tootiefoodie.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tootie Foodie&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://ahootiehoot.blogspot.com/"&gt;A Hootie Hoot&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://spaghettiwesterner.blogspot.com/"&gt;Spaghetti Westerner&lt;/a&gt;!!&amp;nbsp; You need to check out their blogs - really good tips and reading.&amp;nbsp; Thanks again ladies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-6728786976422035909?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/6728786976422035909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/nugget-list.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6728786976422035909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6728786976422035909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/nugget-list.html' title='Nugget List'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-5077461403770946650</id><published>2011-04-03T11:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T11:18:52.257-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><title type='text'>Not Your Typical Undies</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I come across an item that is just too amazing to pass by.&amp;nbsp; I stumbled upon this little ditty and now I'm on a quest to get one for my house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Seriously, who doesn't need a banana hammock for their kitchen?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Bananahammock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Bananahammock.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Typically, the only banana hammocks in our house are found in Beefcake's dresser.&amp;nbsp; So excited at the possibility to branch out to other areas of the home.&amp;nbsp; The way I see it, the more banana hammocks, the better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-5077461403770946650?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/5077461403770946650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/not-your-typical-undies.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5077461403770946650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5077461403770946650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/not-your-typical-undies.html' title='Not Your Typical Undies'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-6644502106426677030</id><published>2011-04-01T19:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T19:08:07.508-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Development'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts - By Miss A</title><content type='html'>Until lately, I didn't realize how much I'm lacking in the real conversation department.&amp;nbsp; Being at home all day with a little&amp;nbsp;human who doesn't know how to talk will do that for you.&amp;nbsp; Miss A is babbling, so we've been having some really good conversations lately.&amp;nbsp; Soon my 'real conversation' cup will overflow.&amp;nbsp; Until then, I have this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" data="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=71377" height="267" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400"&gt; &lt;param name="flashvars" value="intl_lang=en-us&amp;amp;photo_secret=4ee4af2ab9&amp;amp;photo_id=5580952912"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=71377"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#000000"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=71377" bgcolor="#000000" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="intl_lang=en-us&amp;amp;photo_secret=4ee4af2ab9&amp;amp;photo_id=5580952912" height="267" width="400"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's unfortunate that Miss A thinks the current economic state isn't good.&amp;nbsp; Clearly she is wise beyond her years.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-6644502106426677030?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/6644502106426677030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/deep-thoughts-by-miss.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6644502106426677030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6644502106426677030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/04/deep-thoughts-by-miss.html' title='Deep Thoughts - By Miss A'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4512836853900812145</id><published>2011-03-30T15:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T15:00:01.154-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>The Modern Lemonade Stand</title><content type='html'>Beefcakes and I were watching the news the other night and saw a story about the po-po (or should I say 5-0) shutting down a local meth lab. Typically this isn't breaking news because we live in Missouri. And in case you haven't heard, Missouri is the top producer of meth in the US. We are really proud of that little designation. Extremely proud. It's actually on my resume. I mean, if you are going to go for something, you need to go big. Set your sights high. What's the saying about shooting for the stars? No pun intended on the high and shooting there. *cough, cough*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missouri has meth labs coming out of our ears. They are in houses, business, and cars. Heck, there was even one found in a local fast food restaurant. (I'll have a cheeseburger, fries, and a hit. Thanks!) It's pretty standard around here. But what made this particular meth lab stand out was the fact that it was located in the basement of a daycare. You read that right. A freaking daycare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/My1stMethLab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/My1stMethLab.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.worth1000.com/"&gt;Photo Source&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can imagine what you are thinking - 'what the hell kind of backwards place do you live?' Allow me to explain. My best guess is that only about 40% of Missourians are backward. They just give the other 60% a really&amp;nbsp;crappy rep. It might even be a 30/70 split. I'm not really sure. At this point I would include myself in the 'non-backward' group. At least that's what I tell myself in order to fall asleep at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4512836853900812145?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4512836853900812145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/modern-lemonade-stand.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4512836853900812145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4512836853900812145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/modern-lemonade-stand.html' title='The Modern Lemonade Stand'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-8005833161251020534</id><published>2011-03-29T10:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T10:00:09.333-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><title type='text'>Winning at Testing</title><content type='html'>I realize that the whole 'Charlie Sheen publicly melting down' thing is a little bit old by this point.&amp;nbsp; But, if there's one thing I love to do, it's beating a dead horse.&amp;nbsp; It's one of my favorite hobbies - right after eating crow.&amp;nbsp; I was going to let bygones be bygones on the whole Charlie Sheen thing, but then something happened that was just too good to slip by.&amp;nbsp; Plus, I wanted to see how many idioms I could use in a single paragraph...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently taking a class in Engineering Law.&amp;nbsp; Usually, the class makes me want to stab my eyeballs with my mechanical pencil.&amp;nbsp; I'm really not cut out for the whole lawyer thing.&amp;nbsp; It's just not my cup of tea.&amp;nbsp; But, I want to graduate sometime in this lifetime, so I had to take this class.&amp;nbsp; We had a take-home midterm this past week.&amp;nbsp; The only thing that made it somewhat tolerable was that the professor made the entire test revolve around Mr. Sheen and his awesomeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The test started off with a little story.&amp;nbsp; In summary, I worked for a company that designs and manufactures containers.&amp;nbsp; A friend of mine named Oliver has formed a company with Charlie Sheen and they want to sell 'Tiger Blood Energy Drink'.&amp;nbsp; I am asked, over the phone,&amp;nbsp;to design the container.&amp;nbsp; When completed, I send the prototype and quotes to Oliver and Charlie.&amp;nbsp; Charlie instantly replies that the only thing winning more than the Tiger Blood Energy Drink design, was himself.&amp;nbsp; He orders 1,000,000 units.&amp;nbsp; My company orders the materials.&amp;nbsp; A week later we find out that Oliver and Charlie have formed a different company and are purchasing the containers from a different source (using our design).&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/TigerBloodDrink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/TigerBloodDrink.jpg" width="472" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Oliver and Charlie play dirty.&amp;nbsp; Dirty in deed.&amp;nbsp; It must be the warlock in them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;The test goes on to ask the following questions.&amp;nbsp; I took the liberty of filling in my answers for you too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Does my company have a breach of contract claim against Charlie Sheen?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Technically you do because Charlie replied stating that he wanted 1,000,000 units.&amp;nbsp; However, the rules as we know it change when dealing with Mr. Sheen because 'he's different - he has a different constitution, he has a different brain, he has a different heart.&amp;nbsp; He has tiger blood.'&amp;nbsp; The regular rules and laws do not apply to Mr. Sheen because he's a warlock and 'he's tired of pretending that he's not special.&amp;nbsp; He's tired of pretending that he's not a total bitchin' rock star from Mars.'&amp;nbsp; You could try to understand where he's coming from to bring a suit against him, but Charlie thinks that 'people can't figure him out. They can't process him.&amp;nbsp; He doesn't expect them to.&amp;nbsp; You can't process him with the normal brain.'&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What damages can my company get, assuming a breach of contract claim is found?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Mr. Sheen has the resources to pay for any breach of contract damages.&amp;nbsp; Based on his estimates, 'he's worth over 100 billion dollars, but that's just on a&amp;nbsp;cellular level.'&amp;nbsp;Since I am clearly not as awesome as Mr. Sheen, I would not try to bring a breach of contract claim against him simply because I would be worried that he would 'hack me up into pieces in front of my child ... and cut off my face and wear it to go on a very tightly budgeted shopping spree in stores that don't exist yet.'&amp;nbsp; I like my face too much for all of that.&amp;nbsp; You can't be too sure as to how the suit would result because Charlie is 'on a drug - it's called Charlie Sheen.&amp;nbsp; It's not available because if I try it, I will die.&amp;nbsp; My face will melt off and my child will weep over my exploded body.'&amp;nbsp; Again, I like my face too much.&amp;nbsp; I'm a little partial to it.&amp;nbsp; Plus, Charlie has 'a 10,000 year old brain and the boogers of a 7 year old' and if 'I borrowed his brain for five seconds, I'd be like, "Dude! Can't handle it, unplug this bastard!" It fires in a way that's maybe not from, uh ... this terrestrial realm.'&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Clearly he is smarter than me or any lawyer that I could hire.&amp;nbsp; What would be the point?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Are there grounds for patent, copyright, or trademark infringement?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Again, Mr. Sheen's sheer genius would make any lawsuit virtually impossible to win.&amp;nbsp; The only thing Charlie is 'addicted to right now is winning.'&amp;nbsp; There's no way he has any mental&amp;nbsp;issues because he's 'not bi-polar, he's bi-winning.&amp;nbsp; He wins here and he wins there.'&amp;nbsp; It is obvious to me that even if Dr. Seuss was on board, we would not win a suit here, there, or anywhere.&amp;nbsp; We would not win in a box with a fox.&amp;nbsp; Ah, I digress.&amp;nbsp; Seriously though, if you 'pick a fight with a warlock', you have to be ready for the 'F-18, bro. He will destroy you in the air and deploy his ordnance to the ground.'&amp;nbsp; I have no hope of any legal findings because 'he's not a fair game.&amp;nbsp; He's not a soft target. It's over. There's a new sheriff in town.&amp;nbsp; And he has an army of assassins.'&amp;nbsp; Any other possible outcomes would just fall on deaf ears because 'resentments are the rocket fuel that lives in the tip of his saber' and 'dying is for fools.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's safe to say that I'm going to ace this test.&amp;nbsp; The professor will probably use my test as an answer guide for the other tests in the class. I can't say that I blame him.&amp;nbsp; 'Clearly I have defeated this earthworm with my words - imagine what I would have done with my fire breathing fists.'&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-8005833161251020534?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/8005833161251020534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/winning-at-testing.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8005833161251020534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8005833161251020534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/winning-at-testing.html' title='Winning at Testing'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3773455453404410494</id><published>2011-03-27T19:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T19:44:16.909-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 12</title><content type='html'>I went on a &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/ins-and-outs-of-traveling.html"&gt;little trip&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;this week which landed me near an In-N-Out Burger.&amp;nbsp; I've never had the pleasure of visiting this little establishment, and not being one to shy away from calories - I knew I had to experience it.&amp;nbsp; I must say, it was delish.&amp;nbsp; Not so much Weight Watchers friendly, but you only live once.&amp;nbsp; Right?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5027/5565830443_fc24236ae0_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5027/5565830443_fc24236ae0_b.jpg" width="478" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I apologize in advance for anyone who craves this place and doesn't currently live near an In-N-Out.&amp;nbsp; (Audrey - I'm talking to you. Mellie - you too. Sorry girls!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3773455453404410494?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3773455453404410494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/project-52-week-12.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3773455453404410494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3773455453404410494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/project-52-week-12.html' title='Project 52: Week 12'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5027/5565830443_fc24236ae0_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1722429308454229506</id><published>2011-03-25T22:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T22:35:47.273-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adulthood'/><title type='text'>The Ins-N-Outs of Traveling</title><content type='html'>I'm traveling right now.&amp;nbsp; It's not as exciting as it sounds. I'm in Silicon Valley for the BlogHer BET conference.&amp;nbsp; Super interesting conference, but I'm a little let down about the whole Silicon Valley thing.&amp;nbsp; I have yet to see one piece of silicon, let alone an entire valley full.&amp;nbsp; Silicone, maybe a bra-full at the most.&amp;nbsp; I want my money back.&amp;nbsp;I feel so&amp;nbsp;cheated.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent&amp;nbsp;an entire day flying here.&amp;nbsp;It was long. My armpits were sweaty. It wasn't glamorous.&amp;nbsp;It all started well enough&amp;nbsp;at airport security.&amp;nbsp;I asked for a pat down. It was the most action I've gotten all week - the highlight of the trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was yelled at by a stewardess because my suitcase was stowed incorrectly. I have her the hairy eye for the remainder of the flight.&amp;nbsp;I think she spit in my Diet Coke. The Diet Coke hit my bladder like a ton of bricks. Obviously, I was sitting by the window and a complete stranger was sitting next to me.&amp;nbsp;When my bladder felt like it was going to explode at any given moment, he was sound asleep.&amp;nbsp;I debated if I should wake him up or just try to gracefully climb over his lap.&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;briefly considered a dive and roll maneuver into the aisle, but I realized that I'm just not that athletic.&amp;nbsp; I try to decide which way to climb over.&amp;nbsp; I would hate for the nice man to wake up to a face full of hiney and me in a full on straddle.&amp;nbsp; That could make for an uncomfortable remainder of the flight.&amp;nbsp;I opted to just pee my pants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least the view was pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/airplaneedit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="476" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/airplaneedit.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I spent several hours in the Dallas airport waiting for my next flight.&amp;nbsp;If you aren't familiar with the wonderful DFW, there's this big train that takes you around to the different terminals.&amp;nbsp;I arrived in one area and was told that my next plane was leaving 9 miles away in another terminal.&amp;nbsp;I took the train to the other terminal and paid $12 for a sandwich, chips, and soda.&amp;nbsp;More than a little ridiculous. I sat at the gate happily reading &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/meet-my-new-bff.html"&gt;this book&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;About 15 minutes before boarding, I noticed that my flight was no longer being displayed on the screen.&amp;nbsp;In a panic I found that the gate had been changed ... back to the terminal I started out at.&amp;nbsp;I had to race back to the first terminal. My armpits&amp;nbsp;started sweating&amp;nbsp;again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm only away for a few days, but I miss this booger nose like crazy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5308/5559598206_3d1b89f3e3_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5308/5559598206_3d1b89f3e3_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wonderful mother is watching Miss A while I'm away.&amp;nbsp; She messaged me today to tell me that little Miss A was saying 'night night'.&amp;nbsp; I'm sure it was more like 'ni ni'.&amp;nbsp; I can't say for sure.&amp;nbsp; Anna is a baby genius so I wouldn't be surprised if her annunciation was perfect.&amp;nbsp; I'd like to point out that the child still doesn't say 'ma ma'.&amp;nbsp; So far 'da da' and 'night night' have trumped me.&amp;nbsp; It's nice to know where I rank.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The upside ... there's an In-N-Out Burger here.&amp;nbsp; I've never had the pleasure of sinking my teeth into that level of goodness.&amp;nbsp; I've been converted.&amp;nbsp; Currently making plans to relocate here.&amp;nbsp; I'm also purchasing really big stretchy pants to get ready.&amp;nbsp; This doesn't bode well for the whole Weight Watchers thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1722429308454229506?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1722429308454229506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/ins-and-outs-of-traveling.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1722429308454229506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1722429308454229506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/ins-and-outs-of-traveling.html' title='The Ins-N-Outs of Traveling'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5308/5559598206_3d1b89f3e3_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-2163008569947692182</id><published>2011-03-23T09:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T09:00:03.168-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 11</title><content type='html'>I realize that this post is a little late.&amp;nbsp; We are in Week 12 already.&amp;nbsp; Things around here have been super cray cray.&amp;nbsp; Ha, cray cray.&amp;nbsp; Don't I sound so hip?&amp;nbsp; So trendy?&amp;nbsp; And that's the extent of that...&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Supermom cape is at the dry cleaners, so things have been piling up.&amp;nbsp; I feel like I'm running in all directions, but not getting anywhere.&amp;nbsp; Or that I'm constantly busy, but nothing gets done.&amp;nbsp; It's frustrating.&amp;nbsp; So, we decided to take a little break and take advantage of the beautiful weather.&amp;nbsp; We ate lunch at this place on Main Street.&amp;nbsp; Main Street is this freaking adorable historic district in our town.&amp;nbsp; There's really no way to describe it but quaint.&amp;nbsp; I heart it, big time.&amp;nbsp; We were walking around a bit and I snapped a picture.&amp;nbsp; My two loves&amp;nbsp;... I melt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5060/5552541093_ea50da7b7a_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5060/5552541093_ea50da7b7a_b.jpg" width="454" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-2163008569947692182?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/2163008569947692182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/project-52-week-11.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2163008569947692182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2163008569947692182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/project-52-week-11.html' title='Project 52: Week 11'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5060/5552541093_ea50da7b7a_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-7563688894229794661</id><published>2011-03-21T12:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T12:18:36.509-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Activities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weight Loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Exercise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adulthood'/><title type='text'>My Return to the Gym</title><content type='html'>I'm a little ashamed to say that I've had a gym membership for almost two months and never went.&amp;nbsp; Never. Not once. *hangs my&amp;nbsp;flabby head in shame*&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;have to say that my apprehension&amp;nbsp;with attending a gym began&amp;nbsp;in college.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When I went to the gym while I was in high school I was skinny.&amp;nbsp; I was also&amp;nbsp;young, so everything was easy.&amp;nbsp; I didn't mind being looked at - because, well, I was smoking hot.&amp;nbsp; I went to college and started eating my way through&amp;nbsp;classes and drinking a little more than I will openly admit.&amp;nbsp; I gained some weight.&amp;nbsp; Okay, I&amp;nbsp;gained&amp;nbsp;A LOT of weight.&amp;nbsp; Sue me, alright.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;'The Rec', as everyone on campus lovingly called our recreation center, was full of equipment and everything you needed to check your chub at the door.&amp;nbsp; The place seriously had everything.&amp;nbsp; It was a shining example of our tuition money at work.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rec was also full of perfectly put together, stick-thin beotches who also attended my school.&amp;nbsp; They would come to work out in full make-up,&amp;nbsp;perfect hair, spandex pants, a sports bra, and pearls.&amp;nbsp; We were in the South.&amp;nbsp; Pearls were a staple in ever attire. &amp;nbsp;They would hop on an Elliptical and go 400 miles/hour at the top&amp;nbsp;resistance for what seemed like hours.&amp;nbsp; And they wouldn't sweat.&amp;nbsp; Like, at all.&amp;nbsp; They could have gone out to the bar&amp;nbsp;after leaving The Rec and no one would have known that they were just going balls out on that stupid machine.&amp;nbsp; Me on the other hand would show up in sweatpants and a big t-shirt, no make-up, and some seriously oily hair.&amp;nbsp; I would go to a hidden machine and jiggle my way through a 30 minute program.&amp;nbsp; By the time it was over I was a big ball of sweat and BO.&amp;nbsp; There is no way I was going anywhere but my shower.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I was having some post traumatic stress related to my gym-going college days.&amp;nbsp; I was dreading going back.&amp;nbsp; Even though it's a different town, a different gym, and an older median age - I still didn't want to go.&amp;nbsp; It might be a bit irrational, but who cares.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It came to the point where I was either going to cancel my gym membership without ever stepping foot in the place or suck it up and go.&amp;nbsp; So, I pulled on my big girl panties (figuratively and literally) and I went.&amp;nbsp; Honestly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.&amp;nbsp; The perfectly put together college girls were&amp;nbsp;replaced with hard core body builders.&amp;nbsp; They would strut around with their weight belts, protein shakes, and steroids saying things like 'Hey bro, I could use a spot here'.&amp;nbsp; I'm only kidding about the steroids ... they had those in their locker.&amp;nbsp; I found a machine that wasn't right in the middle of everything.&amp;nbsp; I still don't like people staring at me while I &lt;strike&gt;almost die from a heart attack&lt;/strike&gt; work out.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't that bad.&amp;nbsp; I think I might even go back.&amp;nbsp; Plus, there's a ton of old, naked ladies wandering around the locker room... Bonus!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/exercise-cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/exercise-cartoon.jpg" width="221" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.everydaypeoplecartoons.com/"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-7563688894229794661?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/7563688894229794661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/my-return-to-gym.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7563688894229794661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7563688894229794661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/my-return-to-gym.html' title='My Return to the Gym'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-6975165907926685480</id><published>2011-03-20T13:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T13:00:03.121-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Development'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>A Lesson in Spooning</title><content type='html'>Spoons should be used to carefully scoop food&amp;nbsp;into your&amp;nbsp;mouth.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Someone has not gotten the memo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5212/5531145838_8cd823b012_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" q6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5212/5531145838_8cd823b012_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;If, by chance, you needed clear instructions on how to use a spoon - WikiHow has been kind of enough to lay out this &lt;a href="http://www.wikihow.com/Use-a-Spoon"&gt;tutorial&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-6975165907926685480?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/6975165907926685480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/lesson-in-spooning.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6975165907926685480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6975165907926685480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/lesson-in-spooning.html' title='A Lesson in Spooning'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5212/5531145838_8cd823b012_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-2811930520301908351</id><published>2011-03-18T10:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T10:49:27.361-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nugget List'/><title type='text'>Nugget List</title><content type='html'>- My hair stylist and I staged an intervention to deal with &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/sideburn-creep.html"&gt;Beefcake's sideburn issues&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I'm happy to report that they have been conservatively trimmed to his earlobes.&amp;nbsp; He has promised to make an honest effort at keeping those puppies under control.&amp;nbsp; I give it two months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&amp;nbsp;My school is&amp;nbsp;currently&amp;nbsp;on Spring Break (even though we got about 4 inches of snow the other day).&amp;nbsp; Miss A's Mother's Day Out is also on break this week.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;So she's home and&amp;nbsp;she's sick.&amp;nbsp; I have a test in one of my classes on Monday.&amp;nbsp; The other class also has a test. It's take home.&amp;nbsp;Anybody want to&amp;nbsp;complete a test in Engineering Law for me?? Pretty please??&amp;nbsp; Anyway, I have been slacking a bit on the whole blog thing.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes my funny juices run a little low, if they are even there.&amp;nbsp;I apologize.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Little known fact about Beefcakes - when he's really angry, he compulsively folds things.&amp;nbsp; It doesn't matter what it is, he folds it.&amp;nbsp; So, my plan for this weekend is to really pick his buttons about something random.&amp;nbsp; Get him good and hot, and then stick him in front of this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/laundrt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/laundrt.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I jumped on the Weight Watchers Chub Club&amp;nbsp;train.&amp;nbsp; Choo Choo!&amp;nbsp; There will be more on this later.&amp;nbsp; Really, I'm just hoping to meet Jennifer Hudson.&amp;nbsp; In my mind, we would be great friends.&amp;nbsp; We'd be winners at losing together.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I hope I didn't offend anyone with the whole 'Chub Club' thing (see above).&amp;nbsp; As a chub, I feel like I can use this expression freely.&amp;nbsp; I'm only referring to myself here.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Miss A and I went on a walk the other day.&amp;nbsp; We managed to meet a neighbor who is a professional clown and Miss A managed to crap herself at the farthest point from home.&amp;nbsp; Maybe she is already freaked out by clowns.&amp;nbsp; They are pretty terrifying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-2811930520301908351?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/2811930520301908351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/nugget-list_18.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2811930520301908351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2811930520301908351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/nugget-list_18.html' title='Nugget List'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3687220431230208298</id><published>2011-03-16T09:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T09:19:14.348-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mommy Tools'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>Playing Chicken with a Cold</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Miss A has had the crud for about 2 weeks now.&amp;nbsp; Runny nose, cough, the whole enchilada.&amp;nbsp; I mean, what kid isn't sick right now?&amp;nbsp; Thinking that it was just a cold, we've been waiting it out.&amp;nbsp; I despise paying a copay only to be told that there's nothing that can be done.&amp;nbsp; Nothing chaps my ass more, actually.&amp;nbsp; Well, I could probably think of a few other things - but the copay thing is up there for sure.&amp;nbsp; So, I thought she was getting over it when, BAM, things took a turn for the worse.&amp;nbsp; Miss A was miserably congested and sounded like she was hacking up organs.&amp;nbsp; I spent the entire day chasing her around with a baby wipe to keep&amp;nbsp;her snot off of every surface under 3 feet.&amp;nbsp; She even&amp;nbsp;started running a low fever.&amp;nbsp; I continued my game of chicken.&amp;nbsp; I wasn't going to cave yet for a doctor's visit.&amp;nbsp; Then the cold wins.&amp;nbsp; And I hate losing.&amp;nbsp; The next day Miss A started tugging on one of her ears.&amp;nbsp; Game changer.&amp;nbsp; I had a strong internal debate.&amp;nbsp; On one hand, I could take her to the doctor to get her ears checked.&amp;nbsp; There's the possibility that everything is fine and I will have wasted money.&amp;nbsp; On the other hand, I could still wait it out.&amp;nbsp; Waiting it out meant that there would be a possibility that the kid had a raging ear infection.&amp;nbsp; Said ear infection could result in hearing loss.&amp;nbsp; My name would be written in permanent ink in the 'Official Book of Bad Moms'.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/babytylenol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/babytylenol.jpg" width="213" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I made an appointment. The doctor looked at me like a crazy, overbearing mother while we talked.&amp;nbsp; Maybe he's right.&amp;nbsp; At least my name won't go in the book ... yet.&amp;nbsp; Big surprise (read that with as much sarcasm as you can muster), her ears were clear.&amp;nbsp; Her chest sounded fine.&amp;nbsp; It's just a cold.&amp;nbsp; Son-of-a-biscuit-eater.&amp;nbsp; We were sent home with a prescription for cuddles.&amp;nbsp; Oh, and told to use&amp;nbsp;Baby Tylenol as needed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Aside from non-drug remedies (humidifier, saline and a nose sucker, warm mist from a shower, etc), there's not much in the way of medicine for little ones.&amp;nbsp; Baby Tylenol is the go-to drug for kids.&amp;nbsp; It's the answer for everything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A cold?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No problem, let's just fill&amp;nbsp;you full of Baby Tylenol.&amp;nbsp; What's that?&amp;nbsp; Feeling a little blue today?&amp;nbsp; Let me get my syringe of Baby Tylenol.&amp;nbsp; Broken arm?&amp;nbsp; A little Baby Tylenol will fix that right up.&amp;nbsp; Pulmonary embolism?&amp;nbsp; Allow me to top off your dosage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;There's also Baby Motrin which is about the same as Baby Tylenol except different enough that you can use both at the same time.&amp;nbsp; That's when you are heavy hitting.&amp;nbsp; Baby Benadryl is around too.&amp;nbsp; That's only for possible allergic reactions, or when Mommy needs a break.&amp;nbsp; But, I'm pretty sure the latter could possibly get your name in the book of 'Bad Moms'.&amp;nbsp; Just a warning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3687220431230208298?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3687220431230208298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/playing-chicken-with-cold.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3687220431230208298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3687220431230208298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/playing-chicken-with-cold.html' title='Playing Chicken with a Cold'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1675631963031598251</id><published>2011-03-14T10:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T10:58:29.384-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><title type='text'>Nerds Rejoice - It's Pi Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Pi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" q6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Pi.jpg" width="302" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Beefcakes and I both have degrees in enginerding, uh I mean engineering.&amp;nbsp; Same difference, right?&amp;nbsp; Because we are official nerds, I thought it was only fitting to celebrate a math-related 'holiday'.&amp;nbsp; In honor of Pi Day, I thought that I should share the first 31,400 digits of the glorious number.&amp;nbsp; Study this carefully.&amp;nbsp; There will be a test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;3.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;1415926535 8979323846 2643383279 5028841971 6939937510&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;5820974944 5923078164 0628620899 8628034825 3421170679 8214808651 3282306647 0938446095 5058223172 5359408128 4811174502 8410270193 8521105559 6446229489 5493038196 4428810975 6659334461 2847564823 3786783165 2712019091 4564856692 3460348610 4543266482 1339360726 0249141273 7245870066 0631558817 4881520920 9628292540 9171536436 7892590360 0113305305 4882046652 1384146951 9415116094 3305727036 5759591953 0921861173 8193261179 3105118548 0744623799 6274956735 1885752724 8912279381 8301194912 9833673362 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;4406566430 8602139494 6395224737 1907021798 6094370277 0539217176 2931767523 8467481846 7669405132 0005681271 4526356082 7785771342 7577896091 7363717872 1468440901 2249534301 4654958537 1050792279 6892589235 4201995611 2129021960 8640344181 5981362977 4771309960 5187072113 4999999837 2978049951 0597317328 1609631859 5024459455 3469083026 4252230825 3344685035 2619311881 7101000313 7838752886 5875332083 8142061717 7669147303 5982534904 2875546873 1159562863 8823537875 9375195778 1857780532 1712268066 1300192787 6611195909 2164201989 3809525720 1065485863 2788659361 5338182796 8230301952 0353018529 6899577362 2599413891 2497217752 8347913151 5574857242 4541506959 5082953311 6861727855 8890750983 8175463746 4939319255 0604009277 0167113900 9848824012 8583616035 6370766010 4710181942 9555961989 4676783744 9448255379 7747268471 0404753464 6208046684 2590694912 9331367702 8989152104 7521620569 6602405803 8150193511 2533824300 3558764024 7496473263 9141992726 0426992279 6782354781 6360093417 2164121992 4586315030 2861829745 5570674983 8505494588 5869269956 9092721079 7509302955 3211653449 8720275596 0236480665 4991198818 3479775356 6369807426 5425278625 5181841757 4672890977 7727938000 8164706001 6145249192 1732172147 7235014144 1973568548 1613611573 5255213347 5741849468 4385233239 0739414333 4547762416 8625189835 6948556209 9219222184 2725502542 5688767179 0494601653 4668049886 2723279178 6085784383 8279679766 8145410095 3883786360 9506800642 2512520511 7392984896 0841284886 2694560424 1965285022 2106611863 0674427862 2039194945 0471237137 8696095636 4371917287 4677646575 7396241389 0865832645 9958133904 7802759009 9465764078 9512694683 9835259570 9825822620 5224894077 2671947826 8482601476 9909026401 3639443745 5305068203 4962524517 4939965143 1429809190 6592509372 2169646151 5709858387 4105978859 5977297549 8930161753 9284681382 6868386894 2774155991 8559252459 5395943104 9972524680 8459872736 4469584865 3836736222 6260991246 0805124388 4390451244 1365497627 8079771569 1435997700 1296160894 4169486855 5848406353 4220722258 2848864815 8456028506 0168427394 5226746767 8895252138 5225499546 6672782398 6456596116 3548862305 7745649803 5593634568 1743241125 1507606947 9451096596 0940252288 7971089314 5669136867 2287489405 6010150330 8617928680 9208747609 1782493858 9009714909 6759852613 6554978189 3129784821 6829989487 2265880485 7564014270 4775551323 7964145152 3746234364 5428584447 9526586782 1051141354 7357395231 1342716610 2135969536 2314429524 8493718711 0145765403 5902799344 0374200731 0578539062 1983874478 0847848968 3321445713 8687519435 0643021845 3191048481 0053706146 8067491927 8191197939 9520614196 6342875444 0643745123 7181921799 9839101591 9561814675 1426912397 4894090718 6494231961 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;5679452080 9514655022 5231603881 9301420937 6213785595 6638937787 0830390697 9207734672 2182562599 6615014215 0306803844 7734549202 6054146659 2520149744 2850732518 6660021324 3408819071 0486331734 6496514539 0579626856 1005508106 6587969981 6357473638 4052571459 1028970641 4011097120 6280439039 7595156771 5770042033 7869936007 2305587631 7635942187 3125147120 5329281918 2618612586 7321579198 4148488291 6447060957 5270695722 0917567116 7229109816 9091528017 3506712748 5832228718 3520935396 5725121083 5791513698 8209144421 0067510334 6711031412 6711136990 8658516398 3150197016 5151168517 1437657618 3515565088 4909989859 9823873455 2833163550 7647918535 8932261854 8963213293 3089857064 2046752590 7091548141 6549859461 6371802709 8199430992 4488957571 2828905923 2332609729 9712084433 5732654893 8239119325 9746366730 5836041428 1388303203 8249037589 8524374417 0291327656 1809377344 4030707469 2112019130 2033038019 7621101100 4492932151 6084244485 9637669838 9522868478 3123552658 2131449576 8572624334 4189303968 6426243410 7732269780 2807318915 4411010446 8232527162 0105265227 2111660396 6655730925 4711055785 3763466820 6531098965 2691862056 4769312570 5863566201 8558100729 3606598764 8611791045 3348850346 1136576867 5324944166 8039626579 7877185560 8455296541 2665408530 6143444318 5867697514 5661406800 7002378776 5913440171 2749470420 5622305389 9456131407 1127000407 8547332699 3908145466 4645880797 2708266830 6343285878 5698305235 8089330657 5740679545 7163775254 2021149557 6158140025 0126228594 1302164715 5097925923 0990796547 3761255176 5675135751 7829666454 7791745011 2996148903 0463994713 2962107340 4375189573 5961458901 9389713111 7904297828 5647503203 1986915140 2870808599 0480109412 1472213179 4764777262 2414254854 5403321571 8530614228 8137585043 0633217518 2979866223 7172159160 7716692547 4873898665 4949450114 6540628433 6639379003 9769265672 1463853067 3609657120 9180763832 7166416274 8888007869 2560290228 4721040317 2118608204 1900042296 6171196377 9213375751 1495950156 6049631862 9472654736 4252308177 0367515906 7350235072 8354056704 0386743513 6222247715 8915049530 9844489333 0963408780 7693259939 7805419341 4473774418 4263129860 8099888687 4132604721 5695162396 5864573021 6315981931 9516735381 2974167729 4786724229 2465436680 0980676928 2382806899 6400482435 4037014163 1496589794 0924323789 6907069779 4223625082 2168895738 3798623001 5937764716 5122893578 6015881617 5578297352 3344604281 5126272037 3431465319 7777416031 9906655418 7639792933 4419521541 3418994854 4473456738 3162499341 9131814809 2777710386 3877343177 2075456545 3220777092 1201905166 0962804909 2636019759 8828161332 3166636528 6193266863 3606273567 6303544776 2803504507 7723554710 5859548702 7908143562 4014517180 6246436267 9456127531 8134078330 3362542327 8394497538 2437205835 3114771199 2606381334 6776879695 9703098339 1307710987 0408591337 4641442822 7726346594 7047458784 7787201927 7152807317 6790770715 7213444730 6057007334 9243693113 8350493163 1284042512 1925651798 0694113528 0131470130 4781643788 5185290928 5452011658 3934196562 1349143415 9562586586 5570552690 4965209858 0338507224 2648293972 8584783163 0577775606 8887644624 8246857926 0395352773 4803048029 0058760758 2510474709 1643961362 6760449256 2742042083 2085661190 6254543372 1315359584 5068772460 5570552690 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;2901618766 7952406163 4252257719 5429162991 9306455377 9914037340 4328752628 8896399587 9475729174 6426357455 2540790914 5135711136 9410911939 3251910760 2082520261 8798531887 7058429725 9167781314 9699009019 2116971737 2784768472 6860849003 3770242429 1651300500 5168323364 3503895170 2989392233 4517220138 1280696501 1784408745 1960121228 5993716231 3017114448 4640903890 6449544400 6198690754 8516026327 5052983491 8740786680 8818338510 2283345085 0486082503 9302133219 7155184306 3545500766 8282949304 1377655279 3975175461 3953984683 3936383047 4611996653 8581538420 5685338621 8672523340 2830871123 2827892125 0771262946 3229563989 8989358211 6745627010 2183564622 0134967151 8819097303 8119800497 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4428810975 6659334461 2847564823 3786783165 2712019091 4564856692 3460348610 4543266482 1339360726 0249141273 7245870066 0631558817 4881520920 9628292540 9171536436 7892590360 0113305305 4882046652 1384146951 9415116094 3305727036 5759591953 0921861173 8193261179 3105118548 0744623799 6274956735 1885752724 8912279381 8301194912 9833673362 &lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;4406566430 8602139494 6395224737 1907021798 6094370277 0539217176 2931767523 8467481846 7669405132 0005681271 4526356082 7785771342 7577896091 7363717872 1468440901 2249534301 4654958537 1050792279 6892589235 4201995611 2129021960 8640344181 5981362977 4771309960 5187072113 4999999837 2978049951 0597317328 1609631859 5024459455 3469083026 4252230825 3344685035 2619311881 7101000313 7838752886 5875332083 8142061717 7669147303 5982534904 2875546873 1159562863 8823537875 9375195778 1857780532 1712268066 1300192787 6611195909 2164201989 3809525720 1065485863 2788659361 5338182796 8230301952 0353018529 6899577362 2599413891 2497217752 8347913151 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1675631963031598251?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1675631963031598251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/nerds-rejoice-its-pi-day.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1675631963031598251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1675631963031598251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/nerds-rejoice-its-pi-day.html' title='Nerds Rejoice - It&apos;s Pi Day'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-780830261012028798</id><published>2011-03-13T13:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T13:00:04.012-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lucy'/><title type='text'>Lucy is wearing Furggs</title><content type='html'>Lucy had a certain burnt food aroma wafting from her.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't pleasant for anyone involved.&amp;nbsp; Well, Lucy didn't seem to mind.&amp;nbsp; And I guess&amp;nbsp;Miss A&amp;nbsp;didn't show any displeasure for the newly acquired scent.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Beefcakes&amp;nbsp;doesn't notice anything, so he&amp;nbsp;didn't care.&amp;nbsp;So maybe I was the only one with a problem.&amp;nbsp; Okay, it wasn't pleasant for me.&amp;nbsp; There, I said it.&amp;nbsp; It's ALL ABOUT ME.&amp;nbsp; Happy? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was also the growing issue of hair.&amp;nbsp; See, Lucy is a golden retriever (read: giant shedding furball) and they have two layers of hair.&amp;nbsp; At the first moment of warmth,&amp;nbsp;one of Lucy's coats starts falling out.&amp;nbsp; There's fur EVERYWHERE.&amp;nbsp; We have fur tumbleweeds&amp;nbsp;in the kitchen and a thick fur rug in the living room.&amp;nbsp; It's gross.&amp;nbsp; Obviously it's unrealistic to think that I might actually vacuum and keep the hair at bay.&amp;nbsp; That would never happen.&amp;nbsp; I mean, seriously.&amp;nbsp; The ONLY choice we had was to take Lucy in for a little trim.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Lucyshaved.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="418" q6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Lucyshaved.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at how pretty she is!&amp;nbsp; So sleek, so aerodynamic!&amp;nbsp; She can run faster and jump higher.&amp;nbsp; It's like when you got a new pair of sneakers as a kid.&amp;nbsp; You always got that 'run faster' feeling.&amp;nbsp; Well, at least I had that feeling.&amp;nbsp; But let's be real - all Lucy does is lay around and sleep.&amp;nbsp; So, the new 'do' is&amp;nbsp;REALLY helping with that (where's that sarcasm font when I need it?)... The good news is that her front legs will never be cold thanks to the fury Uggs (I'm calling them Furggs)&amp;nbsp;that she'll be rocking this summer.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-780830261012028798?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/780830261012028798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/lucy-is-wearing-furggs.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/780830261012028798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/780830261012028798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/lucy-is-wearing-furggs.html' title='Lucy is wearing Furggs'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-5777944506906619906</id><published>2011-03-12T13:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T13:00:00.338-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 10</title><content type='html'>I don't know if you heard, but I got 7 inches of hair chopped off and Beefcakes didn't even notice.&amp;nbsp; I was a bit upset, to say the least.&amp;nbsp; Luckily for Beefcakes, he read &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/my-husband-is-completely-oblivious.html"&gt;some sound advice on the situation&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and came home this evening with flowers.&amp;nbsp; I took the opportunity to take some pictures of said flowers for this week's installment of Project 52.&amp;nbsp; I also used the flowers as a chance to play around with the focus.&amp;nbsp; I wanted to focus on one flower in order to create the blur (or bokeh) behind it.&amp;nbsp; I love how this photo turned out.&amp;nbsp; Doesn't it look like the in-focus flower was pasted on over the out-of-focus flowers?&amp;nbsp; It's almost three dimensional.&amp;nbsp; I don't want to toot my own horn, but TOOT TOOT.&amp;nbsp; *Ahem*&amp;nbsp; I'll stop now.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will be happy to know that Beefcakes does not have to spend the&amp;nbsp;night on the couch.&amp;nbsp; I know you were all anxiously waiting to hear how it ended...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5218/5518326457_c6215db0ea_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="425" q6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5218/5518326457_c6215db0ea_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-5777944506906619906?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/5777944506906619906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/project-52-week-10.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5777944506906619906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5777944506906619906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/project-52-week-10.html' title='Project 52: Week 10'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5218/5518326457_c6215db0ea_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4084879150452852944</id><published>2011-03-11T09:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-11T09:00:15.102-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adulthood'/><title type='text'>My Husband is Completely Oblivious</title><content type='html'>I had a hair appointment&amp;nbsp;yesterday while Beefcakes was at work and Miss A was at Mommy's Day Out.&amp;nbsp; It was sweet, sweet Mommy time.&amp;nbsp; Anyway, I got a little froggy while I was there&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;when my wonderful stylist asked me what I wanted to do I told her to surprise me.&amp;nbsp; My only stipulation was that I still needed to be able to pull my hair back.&amp;nbsp; Kids have sticky fingers.&amp;nbsp; Sticky fingers pull hair.&amp;nbsp; And it hurts so bad that it brings tears to your eyes.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour later and 7 inches less of hair I left the salon feeling like a new woman.&amp;nbsp; My head felt lighter.&amp;nbsp; I had a spring in my step.&amp;nbsp; I kept running my fingers through my hair and was pleasantly surprised when my hair ended much sooner than I thought it would.&amp;nbsp; It was an obvious change and felt good.&amp;nbsp; Hell, even Anna knew something was&amp;nbsp;different when I picked her up from school.&amp;nbsp; She kind of gave me the hairy eye until she realized that&amp;nbsp;I was her mommy.&amp;nbsp; Then she came running.&amp;nbsp; (I melt!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to see if Beefcakes would notice without me telling him.&amp;nbsp; He came home from work and didn't seem to notice.&amp;nbsp; I thought I would give it some time.&amp;nbsp; So, we ventured out for dinner.&amp;nbsp; On our way to dinner, we had a conversation about my hair appointment.&amp;nbsp; He still didn't notice.&amp;nbsp; We ate dinner, sitting across from each other.&amp;nbsp; And he STILL didn't notice.&amp;nbsp; I'm thinking to myself - either 7 less inches of hair isn't that noticeable or he is just completely oblivious to everything around him.&amp;nbsp; I'm going to let you decide.&amp;nbsp; Allow me&amp;nbsp;to show you a little before and after:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://s1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/?action=view&amp;amp;current=hair.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="323" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/hair.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Please excuse the green tint that's going on in the left picture.&amp;nbsp; The camera was doing some funky things.&amp;nbsp; My hair wasn't really green tinged.&amp;nbsp; Well, one time it did turn green after I had a little run in with some chlorine.&amp;nbsp; That was a few years ago though.&amp;nbsp; And don't mind the 'Facebookesque kissyface self-shot profile picture' on the right.&amp;nbsp; I was trying my best to look super duper&amp;nbsp;sexy.&amp;nbsp; I think I just look constipated.&amp;nbsp; To my knowledge, I was not.&amp;nbsp; I know you were all&amp;nbsp;worried. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Beefcakes, if you are reading this - you should probably notice that my hair looks drastically different and I'm now the official trophy wife that you've always wanted... You're welcome.&amp;nbsp; You should also know that if you want to make your way out of the doghouse you should come home today with flowers.&amp;nbsp; Don't cheap out either.&amp;nbsp; And I'll be expecting a foot massage.&amp;nbsp; Right after you finish cooking dinner, doing the dishes, and putting the baby to bed.&amp;nbsp; I guess it's your choice.&amp;nbsp; I'll have sheets on the couch if you decide to go against the recommendations.&amp;nbsp; It's your call.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4084879150452852944?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4084879150452852944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/my-husband-is-completely-oblivious.html#comment-form' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4084879150452852944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4084879150452852944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/my-husband-is-completely-oblivious.html' title='My Husband is Completely Oblivious'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3292256181841537240</id><published>2011-03-10T09:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T09:00:07.978-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Baby Making'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mommy Tools'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adulthood'/><title type='text'>Slow day at Baby Center?</title><content type='html'>I&amp;nbsp;got an email from Baby Center and the subject was 'The Best Time in Your Cycle for Baby-Making Sex'.&amp;nbsp; My initial reaction was to choke on the water I was drinking.&amp;nbsp; How often do you get an email that has 'Baby-Making Sex' in the title?&amp;nbsp; I mean, not very often.&amp;nbsp; Well, I don't.&amp;nbsp; I don't know what you're into...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second reaction was to be a little put off by Baby Center.&amp;nbsp; How dare they assume that I am even wanting information on baby making.&amp;nbsp; Plus, I really don't need any help in the 'getting pregnant' department.&amp;nbsp; *Let me knock on some wood.*&amp;nbsp; It's the whole&amp;nbsp;'staying pregnant' thing that I could&amp;nbsp;use a little help with.&amp;nbsp; Where are those articles, Baby Center?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will admit that I was intrigued by the email, so I opened it.&amp;nbsp; I mean, if they are going to put 'Baby-Making Sex' in the title, the least I can do is open it.&amp;nbsp; The email was full of links to all kinds of articles on their site about all kinds of different things.&amp;nbsp; Not just baby making.&amp;nbsp; That was when my eyes scanned 'Can Crotch Length Predict Sperm Strength'.&amp;nbsp; I think I actually spit out my water at that point.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Babycenterbabymaking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" q6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Babycenterbabymaking.jpg" width="610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because your big toe is more mature than I am, I decided to see what&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.babycenter.com/204_can-crotch-length-predict-sperm-strength_10347965.bc"&gt;the article&lt;/a&gt; was all about.&amp;nbsp; Anything with the word crotch in it has to be funny, right?&amp;nbsp; I personally think crotch is a hilarious word.&amp;nbsp; It's not dirty.&amp;nbsp; Moist is a dirty word.&amp;nbsp; Crotch - not so much.&amp;nbsp; Well, it turns out that 126 college boys in upstate New York signed up for a research study that involved giving sperm samples and measurements of their perineum.&amp;nbsp; (How high do you think those guys had to be to do that?)&amp;nbsp; I couldn't finish the article because I was laughing so hard I was crying.&amp;nbsp; I think they found a correlation.&amp;nbsp; Who knows?&amp;nbsp; Who cares?&amp;nbsp; I'm still trying to figure out how they suckered 126 guys into dropping trou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3292256181841537240?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3292256181841537240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/slow-day-at-baby-center.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3292256181841537240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3292256181841537240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/slow-day-at-baby-center.html' title='Slow day at Baby Center?'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-5158661127153882417</id><published>2011-03-09T09:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T09:00:01.498-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mommy Tools'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><title type='text'>Baby Proofing - too much for a blonde?</title><content type='html'>Three months ago we decided to be proactive and get everything we needed to completely baby proof the house.&amp;nbsp; I'm talking cabinet locks, toilet locks, outlet covers, guards for the TV controls - you get the idea.&amp;nbsp; We thought we were WAY ahead of the game because Miss A wasn't into any of it when we dropped the dough for all the little molded pieces of crap that are supposed to keep my&amp;nbsp;baby safe.&amp;nbsp; We were totally ahead of&amp;nbsp;schedule by getting most of the outlets covered and locking half of the kitchen cabinets.&amp;nbsp; That's where it ended three months ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't that big of a deal until Miss A recently&amp;nbsp;figured out how to open the cabinets and drawers.&amp;nbsp; I found measuring spoons in the bathroom, a cheese grater in the office, and a butcher's knife in the foyer.&amp;nbsp; Alright, Anna isn't playing with the butcher's knife.&amp;nbsp; That's much to big and&amp;nbsp;sharp.&amp;nbsp; She plays with the paring knife.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Beefcakes was given strict orders to finish all of the baby proofing.&amp;nbsp; It was put at the tip top of his 'Honey Do' list.&amp;nbsp; So, he did it.&amp;nbsp; What a good honey!&amp;nbsp; While all of this was going on I was busy watching Anna.&amp;nbsp; I was too busy to notice that I needed to use the potty until I really needed to go.&amp;nbsp; It was like all of a sudden I was going to wet myself.&amp;nbsp; I ran to the bathroom to find this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Toiletlock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" q6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Toiletlock.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to open it.&amp;nbsp; No luck.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't get the stupid lock open.&amp;nbsp; I pushed the buttons and pulled and tugged.&amp;nbsp; Still no luck.&amp;nbsp; My first instinct was to blame Beefcakes for installing the lock wrong.&amp;nbsp; Obviously I wasn't too stupid to figure out the lock.&amp;nbsp; Silently cussing Beefcakes, I ran to another bathroom and tried to not pee my pants.&amp;nbsp; My eyes were turning yellow at this point.&amp;nbsp; Another toilet lock.&amp;nbsp; Damnit.&amp;nbsp; Again, I tugged and pulled and pushed the lock in an attempt to open it.&amp;nbsp; It was getting critical at this point.&amp;nbsp; Just as I was getting ready to potty in my pants, Beefcakes walks in.&amp;nbsp; He kindly showed me how to open the lock.&amp;nbsp; Just in time.&amp;nbsp; As I sat there pottying, it dawned on me that Beefcakes didn't install the lock incorrectly.&amp;nbsp; I realized that I was just to&amp;nbsp;dumb to figure it out.&amp;nbsp; I'm going to blame it on my blonde hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes laughed at me for hours.&amp;nbsp; He's extremely familiar with my 'blonde moments'.&amp;nbsp; When we went on our honeymoon, we had a layover in San Juan.&amp;nbsp; We were getting a bite to eat when my cell phone rang.&amp;nbsp; It was my sister.&amp;nbsp; After talking for a bit, I got off the phone so I could finish eating.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes asked what we talked about.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Scoffing, I said 'Jen asked me how Puerto Rico was.&amp;nbsp; Wow that's dumb.&amp;nbsp; I can't believe she thinks we are in Puerto Rico.&amp;nbsp; I told her we had a stop in San Juan.'&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes just stared at me.&amp;nbsp; I'm sure in that moment he realized that he had married a semi-idiot.&amp;nbsp; He didn't know if he should laugh or cry.&amp;nbsp; I blamed it on the hair - it's a convenient excuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Puerto20Rico_map.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="324" q6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Puerto20Rico_map.gif" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out that San Juan is in Puerto Rico.&amp;nbsp; Who knew, right?&amp;nbsp; It's tough out there for a blonde...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-5158661127153882417?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/5158661127153882417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/baby-proofing-too-much-for-blonde.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5158661127153882417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5158661127153882417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/baby-proofing-too-much-for-blonde.html' title='Baby Proofing - too much for a blonde?'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1878044970299634016</id><published>2011-03-07T16:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T16:30:00.182-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adulthood'/><title type='text'>A Peek Inside A Man's Mind</title><content type='html'>We keep finding ourselves in a little situation. We are constantly out of milk.&amp;nbsp; I don't even know how it happens.&amp;nbsp; It's like we have a full gallon and then nothing.&amp;nbsp; Well, we were out&amp;nbsp;the other day&amp;nbsp;so I sent Beefcakes into the store for three things: milk, popsicles, and AA batteries.&amp;nbsp; Three simple things.&amp;nbsp; That was it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ran in while I circled the parking lot.&amp;nbsp; You see when Miss A is with you, stopping&amp;nbsp;the car is a sin equal to murder.&amp;nbsp; So, we do everything we can to keep the child in motion and keep the crying at bay.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes emerged from the store what seemed like an hour later.&amp;nbsp; He had a grocery bag and a six pack.&amp;nbsp; I reminded him that beer wasn't on the list, but he didn't care.&amp;nbsp; He was too busy excitedly telling my what kind of brew he picked up.&amp;nbsp; He was all 'It's a special kind that's only out right now.&amp;nbsp; I've been dying to try&amp;nbsp;it.'&amp;nbsp; I could care less because to me all beer tastes like piss water.&amp;nbsp; I've never been a big beer drinker.&amp;nbsp; I honestly gave it my best effort in college.&amp;nbsp; So, I can't say that I didn't try.&amp;nbsp; It's just not my thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got home I was putting away the items from the grocery bag.&amp;nbsp; I didn't see the batteries, so I asked Beefcakes about them.&amp;nbsp; He had forgotten.&amp;nbsp; Obviously he was terribly upset by this, so he popped open one of his specialty cold ones to console himself.&amp;nbsp; It occurred to me that I had just witnessed a small glimpse into the complex (or is it?)&amp;nbsp;mind of a man.&amp;nbsp; I mentally traced his steps in the grocery store to see where he lost track of the three items he was sent in for.&amp;nbsp; I've made a little schematic for a visual aid:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/grocerystorelayoutwithpath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" q6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/grocerystorelayoutwithpath.jpg" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Allow me to walk you through what happened.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes enters the store and heads to the frozen foods.&amp;nbsp; He successfully locates the popsicles and grabs a box.&amp;nbsp; He gets overly confident that the situation is under control as he strolls toward the dairy section.&amp;nbsp; And that's when it happens.&amp;nbsp; He passes the beer.&amp;nbsp; All bets are off as he jumps around the display taking his sweet time.&amp;nbsp; He looks at all the options as if he's a little boy picking out a puppy.&amp;nbsp; The beer speaks to him as if to say 'pick me, pick me!'&amp;nbsp; He's about to settle for a type that he's had in the past when the winning brew peeks out at him.&amp;nbsp; Excitedly he grabs the pack.&amp;nbsp; He does a man victory dance.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;But only&amp;nbsp;in his head.&amp;nbsp; It would clearly take away from his manliness to dance in the beer aisle.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes looks around to see if anyone else is admiring his find.&amp;nbsp; As he's looking around he happens to notice the milk sitting just a few feet away.&amp;nbsp; He rushes over to grab a gallon and then makes a beeline for the checkout.&amp;nbsp; After all, you don't want your hard-to-come-by beer getting warm.&amp;nbsp; That would be a grounds for shedding a tear in public.&amp;nbsp; At this point Beefcakes is mentally chanting the word 'beer' as he pays and comes out to the car.&amp;nbsp; The poor batteries never had a chance.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose it is my fault.&amp;nbsp; Isn't it always, somehow the woman's fault?&amp;nbsp; I guess I should have known that sending Beefcakes in would result in something not being picked up that should have.&amp;nbsp; Maybe I should have known better for letting him shop where there is beer?&amp;nbsp; Maybe it's just too tempting?&amp;nbsp; Maybe my list was too long or too diverse for him?&amp;nbsp; Maybe I should have written it down?&amp;nbsp; Perhaps I should have sat on the phone with him and coached him through the store?&amp;nbsp; I guess a quarterback always makes better calls the day after the game.&amp;nbsp; Now I'm left to wonder where it all went wrong and how am I going to find some time to buy batteries.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1878044970299634016?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1878044970299634016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/peek-inside-mans-mind.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1878044970299634016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1878044970299634016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/peek-inside-mans-mind.html' title='A Peek Inside A Man&apos;s Mind'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-582374371119559120</id><published>2011-03-07T09:00:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T09:00:06.451-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Giveaways'/><title type='text'>And the 'Black Heels to Tractor Wheels' winner is.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Randomnumberwinner-3-7-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" l6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Randomnumberwinner-3-7-11.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Rachel said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I like reading blogs that are regularly updated (otherwise I get frustrated trying to make sure I don't miss anything). I also want to read something funny and real. Additionally, I agree with what susan said about your blog."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations Rachel!!&amp;nbsp; And a HUGE thank you to all of my readers and those who commented!&amp;nbsp; I really love all of you and wish that everyone could have won.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel - shoot me an email with your address&amp;nbsp;at &lt;a href="mailto:theunglamorousmommy@gmail.com"&gt;theunglamorousmommy@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; If I don't hear from you within 48 hours I will have to pick another winner.&amp;nbsp; (And that would be sad.)&amp;nbsp; So, get to emailing!!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-582374371119559120?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/582374371119559120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/and-black-heels-to-tractor-wheels.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/582374371119559120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/582374371119559120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/and-black-heels-to-tractor-wheels.html' title='And the &apos;Black Heels to Tractor Wheels&apos; winner is.....'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-6869485191680948505</id><published>2011-03-05T22:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T22:30:00.916-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 9</title><content type='html'>I took this installment of Project 52 when we made a little stop at Babies R Us.&amp;nbsp; Beefcakes thought it would be a good idea to let Miss A run around the stuffed animal aisle.&amp;nbsp; Probably not the best idea we've ever had.&amp;nbsp; Anna loves stuffed animals more than she likes drinking her bathwater.&amp;nbsp; That's saying something.&amp;nbsp; Imagine our surprise and complete dismay when the toy she picked was the loudest and most annoying little baby doll you can imagine.&amp;nbsp; The stupid thing moves it's arms and legs while letting out this creepy laugh when you 'tickle' it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It even&amp;nbsp;goes off by itself.&amp;nbsp; You just look at it and it starts moving around like a mental case.&amp;nbsp; It's super creepy.&amp;nbsp; Not sure if we will be letting Miss A pick her own baby next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5014/5500640831_361f768fce_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5014/5500640831_361f768fce_b.jpg" width="478" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-6869485191680948505?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/6869485191680948505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/project-52-week-9.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6869485191680948505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6869485191680948505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/project-52-week-9.html' title='Project 52: Week 9'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5014/5500640831_361f768fce_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-8556496020629037886</id><published>2011-03-04T08:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-04T08:42:07.528-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><title type='text'>Sideburn Creep</title><content type='html'>It's pretty common knowledge that couples tend to gain weight once they are married.&amp;nbsp; I mean, it's bound to happen.&amp;nbsp; It's the whole you-are-contractually-bound-to-me-now-I'm-going-to-let-myself-go thing.&amp;nbsp; I have to raise a guilty hand to this one.&amp;nbsp; What I wasn't told (and recently discovered) was that apparently your husband also gains more sideburns the longer you've been married.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what you are thinking - 'What in the world? How is this even possible?'&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that too.&amp;nbsp; Allow me to walk you through some evidence.&amp;nbsp; Three years ago, Beefcake's sideburns conservatively stopped near the top quarter of his ear.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/alexandlisaengagement.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="418" l6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/alexandlisaengagement.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A couple years passed and his sideburns continued to creep down.&amp;nbsp; A year ago they reached the bottom of his ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Alex2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" l6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Alex2010.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Fast forward to current day and the burns are well below earlobe level.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Alexsideburn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" l6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Alexsideburn.jpg" width="476" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;By my calculations&amp;nbsp;Beefcake's sideburns have grown an inch for every year we've been married.&amp;nbsp; I give it 4 to 5 more years before he's rocking a&amp;nbsp;complete&amp;nbsp;sideburn chinstrap.&amp;nbsp; An intervention might have to take place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-8556496020629037886?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/8556496020629037886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/sideburn-creep.html#comment-form' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8556496020629037886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8556496020629037886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/sideburn-creep.html' title='Sideburn Creep'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-2565367445033224945</id><published>2011-03-03T09:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T12:40:13.974-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nugget List'/><title type='text'>Nugget List</title><content type='html'>- I've come down with the plague.&amp;nbsp; Alright, it might just be a cold.&amp;nbsp; But, I feel like Death is knocking at the door.&amp;nbsp; I'm all hopped up on acetaminophen and pseudoephedrine right now, so there's no telling where this post is going to end up.&amp;nbsp; I'm not sure I'll even stay awake until the end of it.&amp;nbsp; I won't blame you if you don't make it to the end either.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I took a nap yesterday&amp;nbsp;(don't judge - see above).&amp;nbsp; While napping I had a dream that something was being burned in the oven.&amp;nbsp; I could smell the horrible aroma in my dream.&amp;nbsp; Thinking that it would go away if I woke up, I opened my eyes to this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Lucyonpillow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" l6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Lucyonpillow.jpg" width="297" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, the horrible smell did not go away.&amp;nbsp; A year ago, I made the mistake of letting Lucy sleep in bed while my beefcakes was out of town.&amp;nbsp; She's never slept on the floor since.&amp;nbsp; It's my fault.&amp;nbsp; She's spoiled rotten.&amp;nbsp; If I could just get rid of&amp;nbsp;her stink...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I need to get a pedicure in a bad way.&amp;nbsp; My toe roots are showing.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The other day I had this absolutely brilliant idea.&amp;nbsp; It was life changing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I dozed off for a second.&amp;nbsp; Dang you cold medicine.&amp;nbsp; What was I saying?&amp;nbsp; Oh well, I guess it wasn't important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Alex just informed me that Lady Ga Ga only practices safe hanky panky.&amp;nbsp; That possibly explains why she was dressed as a giant rubber at the Grammys.&amp;nbsp; I wonder if she prefers a particular brand.&amp;nbsp; Perhaps she is a fan of the &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/royal-rubbers.html"&gt;royal rubbers&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; Who knows??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Miss A refuses to eat anything that I have to feed her.&amp;nbsp; We were doing baby cereal for breakfast.&amp;nbsp; Now I'm left to figure out other options that pickypants can feed herself.&amp;nbsp; Any ideas?&amp;nbsp; I know I should start letting her try a spoon on her own.&amp;nbsp; I'm just dreading the mess that it's going to make.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- This was a conversation that Beefcakes and I had last night:&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes: 'Apparently the Eastern Cougar is now extinct.'&lt;br /&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;'Is that right?'&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes: 'I could have sworn that there were still plenty of cougars around on the prowl.'&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Me: 'I think those are the Northern American variety.'&lt;br /&gt;Beefcakes: 'Maybe so.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly we talk about really important things around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-2565367445033224945?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/2565367445033224945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/nugget-list.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2565367445033224945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2565367445033224945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/nugget-list.html' title='Nugget List'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4363932241085979905</id><published>2011-03-02T09:00:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-02T13:23:53.651-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><title type='text'>Official CDC Announcement: Bieber Fever Epidemic</title><content type='html'>I don't know if you have noticed, but there is a little bit of a phenomenon that is spreading like wildfire right now.&amp;nbsp; Bieber Fever.&amp;nbsp; Not to be confused with Beaver Fever which is something entirely different and will not be discussed at this point.&amp;nbsp; Justin Bieber has hit the pop waves and he has hit them hard.&amp;nbsp; Twelve year old girls around the country are going wild for this kid.&amp;nbsp; Honestly, I don't get it.&amp;nbsp; Is it the hair?&amp;nbsp; I mean, it can't possibly be his singing.&amp;nbsp; Or can it?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/157-justin-bieber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" l6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/157-justin-bieber.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The Biebs - in his natural habitat.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I don't know what it is about this youngster that has so many people going absolutely crazy for him.&amp;nbsp; It seems like everywhere I look there's Bieber in my face.&amp;nbsp; I don't like having Bieber in my face.&amp;nbsp; I was at the store - there's posters of him for sale along with books, CDs, DVDs, lunch boxes, underwear, and can openers.&amp;nbsp; I might be lying about the can openers, but I wouldn't put it past him.&amp;nbsp; Apparently he even has his own movie about his life.&amp;nbsp; He's all over the Grammy's and TV commercials.&amp;nbsp; I can't even watch 'Glee' without getting a dose of Bieber.&amp;nbsp; There's Bieber everywhere.&amp;nbsp; And just when I thought that my home was somewhat Bieber-safe, I looked down and saw this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnaHappyBieberNew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="491" l6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnaHappyBieberNew.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;I give you the Happy Bieber.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿&lt;br /&gt;Even my baby isn't immune to ways of the Biebs.&amp;nbsp; I thought that we would have several more years before pop icons started invading my house.&amp;nbsp; Bieber has infiltrated my home.&amp;nbsp; Could it be that I'm the only one that hasn't caught a case of Bieber Fever?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/LucyBieber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" l6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/LucyBieber.jpg" width="555" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This would be a Hairy Bieber.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even Lucy jumped on board.&amp;nbsp; I didn't even realize that her hair could do that - the perfect Hairy Bieber.&amp;nbsp; Do not confuse this with a Hairy Beaver.&amp;nbsp; That is something completely different that was trendy back in the 70's.&amp;nbsp; Google search that, but not while at work.&amp;nbsp; Trust me on this one.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnaSeriousBieber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" l6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnaSeriousBieber.jpg" width="580" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sewious Bieber.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4363932241085979905?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4363932241085979905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/official-cdc-announcement-bieber-fever.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4363932241085979905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4363932241085979905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/official-cdc-announcement-bieber-fever.html' title='Official CDC Announcement: Bieber Fever Epidemic'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3126297686774542247</id><published>2011-03-01T15:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T15:52:01.760-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><title type='text'>Tom Hanks: Ultimate Pageant Dad</title><content type='html'>It's so nice to see Tom Hanks being so involved with his daughter's pageantry... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://3.gvt0.com/vi/dPLWKBWkn3s/0.jpg"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dPLWKBWkn3s&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dPLWKBWkn3s&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;(There's a sexy baby&amp;nbsp;video here...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;SEXY FEET! SEXY FEET!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3126297686774542247?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3126297686774542247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/tom-hanks-ultimate-pageant-dad.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3126297686774542247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3126297686774542247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/03/tom-hanks-ultimate-pageant-dad.html' title='Tom Hanks: Ultimate Pageant Dad'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-6017097442365810334</id><published>2011-02-28T09:00:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T21:04:05.269-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Giveaways'/><title type='text'>Thank You Readers - GIVEAWAY!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;*This giveaway is over! Check back for upcoming giveaways!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I met &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/meet-my-new-bff.html"&gt;The Pioneer Woman&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;the other day, I had you guys in mind.&amp;nbsp; See, I'm completely and totally grateful/thankful/appreciative for everyone that takes the time to stop by here and read what I write.&amp;nbsp; I love you all!&amp;nbsp; Seriously, THANK YOU!!&amp;nbsp; Because, honestly, if I was writing and no one was reading it - that would be totally&amp;nbsp;depressing.&amp;nbsp; And a gigantic waste of time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I picked up another copy of 'Black Heels to Tractor Wheels'.&amp;nbsp; And Ree and her beefcakes signed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5297/5483137714_041c50f942_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5297/5483137714_041c50f942_b.jpg" width="275" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5135/5482544257_85f6038ee6_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5135/5482544257_85f6038ee6_b.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what??&amp;nbsp; I'm giving it away to one of you!!&amp;nbsp; Can you&amp;nbsp;feel the anticipation in the air??&amp;nbsp; All I ask is that you leave a comment (please include your email address) and tell me what you look for in a good blog (or why you like reading certain blogs).&amp;nbsp; I will pick a winner randomly and announce on Monday, March 7th!&amp;nbsp; Good luck!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Official Rules:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- This giveaway is open to US residents only.&lt;br /&gt;- One comment per person.&lt;br /&gt;- Only comments on the blog count.&amp;nbsp; While I absolutely adore Facebook and Twitter comments, they do not count toward this giveaway.&lt;br /&gt;- Comments end on Sunday, March 6th at 12:00pm (noon). &lt;br /&gt;- Winner will be announced on March 7th.&amp;nbsp; They will have 48 hours to claim their prize. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-6017097442365810334?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/6017097442365810334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/thank-you-readers-giveaway.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6017097442365810334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/6017097442365810334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/thank-you-readers-giveaway.html' title='Thank You Readers - GIVEAWAY!!'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5297/5483137714_041c50f942_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-8037430265100919058</id><published>2011-02-27T17:50:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T17:50:53.340-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><title type='text'>Meet My New BFF!</title><content type='html'>Well, yesterday was the big day!&amp;nbsp; I went to see&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/its-like-night-before-christmas-eve.html"&gt;a lady&lt;/a&gt; about a book.&amp;nbsp; This book:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5297/5483137714_041c50f942_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5297/5483137714_041c50f942_b.jpg" width="275" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;And who was﻿ this lady?&amp;nbsp; It was Mrs. Ree Drummond!!&amp;nbsp; Or, you might know her as The Pioneer Woman.&amp;nbsp; Can you see her?? Up there at the podium... She did a little talk and answered some questions.&amp;nbsp; I even stood up and asked a question (What's her biggest tip for new bloggers?).&amp;nbsp; We had a moment.&amp;nbsp; I was nervous.&amp;nbsp; My pits were sweaty.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't very glamorous.&amp;nbsp; But, she was very nice about it.&amp;nbsp; Ree's advice (we are like BFF's now) was to post frequently.&amp;nbsp; She said that it allows your readers to build a relationship with you.&amp;nbsp; Plus it will improve your writing.&amp;nbsp; Lordy knows that I could use some of that! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5100/5483138434_6680d441f8_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5100/5483138434_6680d441f8_b.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;They divided everyone into groups for the actual signing part.&amp;nbsp; There were about a million people there, so we had to wait a while for our turn.&amp;nbsp; The signing was at the St. Louis County Library, so we found the children's area.&amp;nbsp; One of the other nice moms gave Anna a sucker.&amp;nbsp; It was her first.&amp;nbsp; I hope we didn't create a monster.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5254/5482545173_499279d5c6_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5254/5482545173_499279d5c6_b.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;There was this little table that my monkey kept climbing on.&amp;nbsp; She fell at one point.&amp;nbsp; There were tears.&amp;nbsp; There was blood.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't the highlight of the evening.&amp;nbsp; We rebounded though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5013/5482545383_0be755076c_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5013/5482545383_0be755076c_b.jpg" width="316" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Oh, guess who else tagged along with Ree on her trip?&amp;nbsp; You might recognize him from this angle:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://static.thepioneerwoman.com/files/2010/07/chaps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" l6="true" src="http://static.thepioneerwoman.com/files/2010/07/chaps.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/about/"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I was tempted to take my own shot of Marlboro Man's rear.&amp;nbsp; He didn't have chaps on, but I could still handle a view of his rear.&amp;nbsp; Alas, he stood with his back to some cabinets.&amp;nbsp; I think he knew what I was up to... I nervously talked to him as he signed my books.&amp;nbsp; I asked him to sign the&amp;nbsp;twins ... he declined.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5057/5482545657_cb7c3d2698_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5057/5482545657_cb7c3d2698_b.jpg" width="286" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We got a photo together instead.&amp;nbsp; I promise I wasn't playing grabass in the picture.&amp;nbsp; (Or at least that's what I'm telling my husband.)&amp;nbsp; I will never wash my shoulder again...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5175/5482545923_65fa2a8157_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5175/5482545923_65fa2a8157_b.jpg" width="301" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;﻿Twelve years later, it was our groups turn to meet Ree!!&amp;nbsp; Our conversation went something like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Me - "Hi Ree, I'm The Unglamorous Mommy.&amp;nbsp; I'm a huge fan."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;P-Dub - "Oh, YOUR The Unglamorous Mommy.&amp;nbsp; Let me shake your hand.&amp;nbsp; I'm a HUGE fan of yours."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Me - "Oh, I'm very flattered."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;P-Dub - "It would be my honor if you would sign this book for ME!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;It's possible I made that all up... I had this whole thing planned that I was going&amp;nbsp;to say to her.&amp;nbsp; It was going to be fantastically witty.&amp;nbsp; Ree was going to laugh and laugh.&amp;nbsp; We were going to exchange phone numbers and be the best of friends.&amp;nbsp; Instead, it went a little something like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Me - "OHMYGOSH!!! HI!! I'M SUCH A BIG FAN!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Ree - "Oh, thank you."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Me - *stares nervously, unable to talk and&amp;nbsp;stands awkwardly as she signs the books*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;She was SUPER nice and really down to Earth.&amp;nbsp; Makes me love her even more!&amp;nbsp; We then got a picture.&amp;nbsp; It was a little awkward because she was sitting and we were standing.&amp;nbsp; It's hard to do the sorority squat with a baby on your hip.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5060/5483139876_48a9d1f489_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="250" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5060/5483139876_48a9d1f489_b.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;It wasn't until we were driving home that I realized that I completely blocked Anna with Ree's head.&amp;nbsp; I don't like my baby hogging all the glory in a picture.&amp;nbsp; You didn't know?&amp;nbsp; It's all about me... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-8037430265100919058?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/8037430265100919058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/meet-my-new-bff.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8037430265100919058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/8037430265100919058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/meet-my-new-bff.html' title='Meet My New BFF!'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5297/5483137714_041c50f942_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-644667963167825615</id><published>2011-02-26T09:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T21:27:55.880-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 8</title><content type='html'>To illustrate the fact that children can do anything at any given time (especially when your back is turned), I decided on the following&amp;nbsp;picture for this week's installment of Project 52.&amp;nbsp; I took it with my camera phone because I didn't feel like it&amp;nbsp;would be a good parenting call&amp;nbsp;to run and get my camera when my child was standing on the window sill.&amp;nbsp; Heck, I'm still trying to get my heart to start beating again after seeing Miss A in this position.&amp;nbsp; So, I apologize for the poor quality.&amp;nbsp; On another note, I want to nibble on those little thigh rolls.&amp;nbsp; Her wittle wegs just kill me!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5092/5477466389_0a5f1b79b6_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" l6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5092/5477466389_0a5f1b79b6_b.jpg" width="483" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-644667963167825615?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/644667963167825615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/project-52-week-8.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/644667963167825615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/644667963167825615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/project-52-week-8.html' title='Project 52: Week 8'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5092/5477466389_0a5f1b79b6_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-243852673328903983</id><published>2011-02-25T15:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T15:47:44.596-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><title type='text'>It's Like the Night Before Christmas Eve</title><content type='html'>It's a big day around here.&amp;nbsp; A big day indeed.&amp;nbsp; Well, it's the eve of a big day anyway.&amp;nbsp; Preparation is thick around these parts.&amp;nbsp; Why you ask??&amp;nbsp; Well, let me tell you.&amp;nbsp; Have you heard of a little blogger that is known by a few people as &lt;a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/"&gt;The Pioneer Woman&lt;/a&gt;?&amp;nbsp; She has a handful of readers (tens of thousands), some best selling books, a Bobby Flay 'Throw Down' victory, and a floppy dog named Charlie.&amp;nbsp; Seriously, if you haven't heard of her - crawl out from under your rock.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://static.thepioneerwoman.com/files/2010/09/blogging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" l6="true" src="http://static.thepioneerwoman.com/files/2010/09/blogging.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here she is!&amp;nbsp; A little bit of ranch, and a little bit of city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/blog/2010/09/ten-important-things-ive-learned-about-blogging/"&gt;Photo Credit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;Well Ree (we are on a first name basis) wrote a novel about how she and her cowboy husband met and fell in love.&amp;nbsp; It was recently released, so Ree is busy traveling the country signing books for all of her fans.&amp;nbsp; And that's where tomorrow comes in.&amp;nbsp; She's coming here for a signing!!&amp;nbsp; I can't wait to meet her!&amp;nbsp; I feel like we are the same person.&amp;nbsp; She&amp;nbsp;might&amp;nbsp;live on a ranch and I live in the suburbs.&amp;nbsp; She's a published, bestselling author and I can hardly spell.&amp;nbsp; She spends her days photographing wild mustangs on her ranch, and my daily goal is to avoid getting baby poo on my hands during diaper changes.&amp;nbsp; However, both of our husbands' rears look phenomenal in chaps.&amp;nbsp; See - we are kindred spirits!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm super duper excited to meet Ree.&amp;nbsp; Think she'll be weirded out if I ask her to sign my baby?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-243852673328903983?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/243852673328903983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/its-like-night-before-christmas-eve.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/243852673328903983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/243852673328903983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/its-like-night-before-christmas-eve.html' title='It&apos;s Like the Night Before Christmas Eve'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1740395485817504927</id><published>2011-02-23T09:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T09:00:11.093-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mommy Tools'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>Mommyhood Induced Scoliosis</title><content type='html'>I noticed my diaper bag was getting a bit heavy.&amp;nbsp; And by heavy, I mean that the straps were making a&amp;nbsp;permanent indention on my shoulders.&amp;nbsp; Luckily I have a backpack-style bag, or I would have developed a kicking case of mommy induced scoliosis.&amp;nbsp; I guess there's still a chance of that one happening since I can't seem to go anywhere without a child attached to my hip.&amp;nbsp; It's like a chiropractor's worst nightmare.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a little bit of &lt;strike&gt;do whatever I want because my kid was gone&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;free&amp;nbsp;time yesterday, so I decided to tackle the growing bag of crap that I tote with me.&amp;nbsp; Even I was surprised by what I pulled out of that bag.&amp;nbsp; It was like Mary Poppins' magical bag - stuff just kept appearing.&amp;nbsp; You would think that the laws of physics would make it impossible for this much crap to be crammed into one place.&amp;nbsp; But, worry not, somehow I managed.&amp;nbsp; I even took a picture to illustrate...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/DSC_0397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" j6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/DSC_0397.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allow me to walk you through the mess: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Petunia Pickle Bottom bag&lt;/u&gt; - Let me just tell you that I FREAKING LOVE THIS BAG.&amp;nbsp; I spent money on this huge shoulder-style bag before I had Anna.&amp;nbsp; When it came to actually carrying the bag, the baby, and a car seat - that bag sucked.&amp;nbsp; I tried a different backpack-style bag, but it held next to nothing (which maybe would have been a good thing from looking at this list).&amp;nbsp; I heard great things about Petunia and her Pickle Bottoms so I went for it.&amp;nbsp; I will never buy another bag.&amp;nbsp; This isn't sponsored or anything.&amp;nbsp; I just really, really&amp;nbsp;love this bag.&amp;nbsp; Plus, it looks so trendy and glamorous.&amp;nbsp; For a moment you might actually think that I have my shit together...&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;2 containers of fishy crackers&lt;/u&gt; - because one container is obviously not enough.&amp;nbsp; Fishy crackers rule!&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;1 container and 1 bag of Cheerios&lt;/u&gt; - used to bribe good behaviour in public&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;1 Nutri-grain&amp;nbsp;bar&lt;/u&gt;&amp;nbsp;- flattened to the thickness of a piece of standard copier paper.&amp;nbsp; Those little guys are super messy when they are in original form.&amp;nbsp; Can you imagine what that one would have been like?&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;1 package of peanut butter crackers&lt;/u&gt; - again, these were smashed almost beyond recognition.&amp;nbsp; These must have been for me because Miss A hasn't had nuts yet.&amp;nbsp; In my defense, I think I stuck those in there when I was pregnant.&amp;nbsp; The last thing you want is a hungry pregnant lady.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;1 clemintine&lt;/u&gt; - from probably 4 months ago.&amp;nbsp; I'm assuming that it went through a mushy phase and then ended up in a state of extreme rigor mortise.&amp;nbsp; I could have shattered a car window with that thing.&amp;nbsp; Or knocked someone out.&amp;nbsp; Nice to know that clementines can double as weapons if you allow them to age properly.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;6 containers of baby food&lt;/u&gt; - Let me note that Anna has been eating table food for probably 3 months now.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;2 containers of applesauce&lt;/u&gt; - She still eats that, so I'll let those slide.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;1 container of Gerber yogurt&lt;/u&gt; - I stopped buying Gerber yogurt 2 months ago because it's twice the price of regular yogurt and exactly the same.&amp;nbsp; Plus the fact that you don't have to keep it refrigerated freaks me out.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Empty sippy&lt;/u&gt; - just waiting for a purpose&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;1 spoon, dirty&lt;/u&gt; - the spoon I understand.&amp;nbsp; I'm just not sure when it was used.&amp;nbsp; And that scares me a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Pair of baby sunglasses&lt;/u&gt; - obviously we&amp;nbsp;only carry around the bare necessities.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;- P&lt;u&gt;ack of tissues&lt;/u&gt; - I can honestly say they have never been used.&amp;nbsp; Why use tissues when there's a bag of wipes right there?&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Wadded up receipts&lt;/u&gt; &lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Nose sucker&lt;/u&gt; - read: Anna's arch nemesis&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;5 Dr. Brown Bottle Cappers&lt;/u&gt; - When we first opened our supply of bottles we thought those little things were just packaging.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't until we actually ventured out of the house that we realized they had a purpose.&amp;nbsp; By that time we had to buy more because we threw the original set out.&amp;nbsp; We lost more of those to the heating element in the dishwasher than you can imagine.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;1 Straw&lt;/u&gt; - Just in case I want to drink something.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Thermometer&lt;/u&gt; - for taking temps on the go&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Pen with blue ink&lt;/u&gt; - I don't know why it was important to note that it has blue ink.&amp;nbsp; I just like to give all the details I guess.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;$1.25&lt;/u&gt; - clearly you can get out of a ton of situations with that kind of pocket change.&amp;nbsp; Or you can hit up a vending machine for a soda.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Bib&lt;/u&gt; - Miss A hasn't worn a bib in months.&amp;nbsp; But, nice to know that we have one if needed.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Onesie, size 6 months&lt;/u&gt; - we just switched to 12 month clothing...&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Pink Bow&lt;/u&gt; - One must always carry a back-up accessory&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;2 Pairs of Socks&lt;/u&gt; - but, only one pair fits&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Infant Tylenol&lt;/u&gt; - that one is totally needed. And I'm not kidding when I say that.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Adult Tylenol&lt;/u&gt; - because sometimes Mommy gets a headache and doesn't feel like it's responsible to drink on the job.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Liquid Hand Sanitizer&lt;/u&gt; - Giving the big middle finger to germs&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Hand Sanitizing Wipes&lt;/u&gt; - Apparently I'm giving two big middle fingers to germs.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Toys: rattle, ring, little bug, link&lt;/u&gt; - None of which is&amp;nbsp;entertaining to&amp;nbsp;Anna any longer.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Pacifier Holder with 2 Pacifiers&lt;/u&gt; - Miss A weaned herself from the paci&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Plastic Bags&lt;/u&gt; - For when Anna poops in the neighbor's yard.&amp;nbsp; It's the polite thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Butt Cream&lt;/u&gt; - Around here we like butts bump-free.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Travel Wipes&lt;/u&gt; - pretty self-explanatory.&amp;nbsp; The worst is when the hubs takes the wipes out of the diaper bag and doesn't return them.&amp;nbsp; Then I'm out somewhere dealing with a blowout without wipes.&amp;nbsp; It's at that moment that I promise to seek absolute revenge on him.&amp;nbsp; I never do.&amp;nbsp; Because I'm a wuss.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;4 diapers&lt;/u&gt; - kind of self-explanatory.&amp;nbsp; It is a DIAPER bag.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Feeding Bib&lt;/u&gt; - We use the Tommee Tippee kind.&amp;nbsp; Love them!&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Tiny Diner Mat&lt;/u&gt; - This thing has come in really handy.&amp;nbsp; Might need to replace it.&amp;nbsp; It kind of smells like our favorite Mexican restaurant and has a slightly reddish tint from tomato sauce.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Disposable Dinner Mats&lt;/u&gt; - Obviously one type of mat isn't enough for a diaper bag.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;u&gt;Various coupons, all expired&lt;/u&gt; - And the fact that they are expired really pisses me off.&amp;nbsp; I could have found something that we 'needed'.&amp;nbsp; Alex always says that I'm going to save us into the poorhouse.&amp;nbsp; I think he's full of crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously I have an issue with&amp;nbsp;keeping the diaper bag clutter free.&amp;nbsp;Be sure to watch for my big debut on Hoarders... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1740395485817504927?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1740395485817504927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/mommyhood-induced-scoliosis.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1740395485817504927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1740395485817504927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/mommyhood-induced-scoliosis.html' title='Mommyhood Induced Scoliosis'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-7170307135214454335</id><published>2011-02-22T10:43:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T11:57:22.256-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Activities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mommy Tools'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>Mommy's Day Out Anxiety</title><content type='html'>I dropped Miss A off at her first day of Mommy's Day Out today.&amp;nbsp; For those that don't know what Mommy's Day Out is (because I sure as hell didn't until a few months ago), it's like preschool/daycare only it's shorter hours and only a couple times a week.&amp;nbsp; The thought is that the kiddo can get some socialization (which is hard to find if you keep them home) and Mommy can finally get some stuff done (or take a much needed nap).&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't make sense to not sign her up.&amp;nbsp; So we did.&amp;nbsp; And I put on a strong face.&amp;nbsp; Until today.&amp;nbsp; I dropped off all her forms with the MDO coordinator and took Anna to her room.&amp;nbsp; The teachers showed me where to put all of her stuff (which was all labeled with her name)&amp;nbsp;and how to sign her in.&amp;nbsp; It felt like I was sending her off to kindergarten.&amp;nbsp; Last night I even packed her lunch so we would be all ready for today.&amp;nbsp; She's getting so big, it just kills me. Just look at her lunchbox: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnasLunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="297" j6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnasLunch.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I had to put Anna down while I got everything situated.&amp;nbsp; She wasn't having it.&amp;nbsp; Separation anxiety sucks.&amp;nbsp; One of the teachers picked her up and took her to the other side of the room.&amp;nbsp; She was facing away from me, so it was clear that I should make my exit.&amp;nbsp; So I did.&amp;nbsp; I know you shouldn't just sneak out.&amp;nbsp; I should have said goodbye from across the room, but I panicked.&amp;nbsp; I had tears in my eyes walking out to the car.&amp;nbsp; I'm sure everyone that I passed thought I was a basket case (or biscuit case as my husband would say).&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I had dreams last night of leaving Anna today.&amp;nbsp; You have to understand that with the exception of a handful of days, I've been the one watching her.&amp;nbsp; So this is kind of a big deal for us.&amp;nbsp; There's this plastic slide in&amp;nbsp;the toddler&amp;nbsp;room that I had visions of her falling down.&amp;nbsp; It's warranted thoughts.&amp;nbsp; When I was in preschool, the boy that I liked pushed me off a slide that was about 4 feet high.&amp;nbsp; I landed headfirst.&amp;nbsp; I guess he didn't like me back.&amp;nbsp; He obviously had no clue what a real woman was...&amp;nbsp; That slide ended up being closed because of me - it took a concussion to do it.&amp;nbsp; So, yes, I was dropped on my head as a small child.&amp;nbsp; I know what you are thinking - it explains so much.&amp;nbsp; I would have to agree.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;As much as it kills me, I will say that I'm already seeing the perks of this whole Mommy's Day Out thing.&amp;nbsp; I've been to the post office, done some laundry, paid some bills, and artfully composed this post for my awesome readers.&amp;nbsp; All in less than 2 hours.&amp;nbsp; I forgot that I could be this productive!&amp;nbsp; Hell, I've even gone potty without an audience.&amp;nbsp; Now, I'm trying to stay busy so that I don't obsessively call her room asking if she's alright.&amp;nbsp; I don't want to be known as THAT mom (and I think you know what I mean).&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-7170307135214454335?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/7170307135214454335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/i-dropped-miss-off-at-her-first-day-of.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7170307135214454335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7170307135214454335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/i-dropped-miss-off-at-her-first-day-of.html' title='Mommy&apos;s Day Out Anxiety'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3964469114571905928</id><published>2011-02-20T09:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T09:00:01.233-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Just For Fun'/><title type='text'>Royal Rubbers</title><content type='html'>My beefycakes and I have decided to wait a few months to try for another baby. No big deal, but the question of protection comes into play. Obviously an IUD is out of the question because if I'm going to have something implanted in my lady parts, it's going to stay around for a while. Birth control pills are also out because I have a hard time remembering to brush my teeth. So, the idea of taking a little pill at the same time everyday without fail is just setting myself up for an accident. Abstinence would be a perfect choice except my studmuffin would start eyeing the leg of the couch (if you know what I mean...). Plus, I'm pretty sure the abstinence approach is why the phenomenal&amp;nbsp;show '16 and Prgnant' came to be. So, we are left to resort to rubbers. But not just any rubbers will do. No big horses for us. Oh no. The only acceptable choice for our 'no glove, no love' rule are these puppies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/RoyalCondoms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="243" j6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/RoyalCondoms.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Those would be the official condoms of the upcoming royal wedding.&amp;nbsp; Have no fear, they come in a variety of sizes to fit every king and prince.&amp;nbsp; And their slogan: "Like a royal wedding, interaction with a loved one is an unforgettable occasion".&amp;nbsp; HA!&amp;nbsp; Apparently the creators of these little crown jewels didn't ask me.&amp;nbsp; Ugh, I kid. I kid.&amp;nbsp; Or do I???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3964469114571905928?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3964469114571905928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/royal-rubbers.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3964469114571905928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3964469114571905928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/royal-rubbers.html' title='Royal Rubbers'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-7151055761088955948</id><published>2011-02-19T09:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T21:26:39.786-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 7</title><content type='html'>Because the official love&amp;nbsp;holiday was this week, I figured that my Project 52 photo should capture that.&amp;nbsp; This particular picture is meant to display my love of those little conversation hearts.&amp;nbsp; I ate more than I'm willing to share.&amp;nbsp; I love them in all of&amp;nbsp;their chalky yumminess.&amp;nbsp; Plus, it's like one pick-up line after the next - so they make you feel stellar about yourself.&amp;nbsp; (Even if you gain 5 pounds from consuming the entire bag.)&amp;nbsp; Bonus!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5057/5458438888_844a002b60_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="424" j6="true" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5057/5458438888_844a002b60_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-7151055761088955948?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/7151055761088955948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/project-52-week-7.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7151055761088955948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7151055761088955948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/project-52-week-7.html' title='Project 52: Week 7'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5057/5458438888_844a002b60_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-4011539486163614096</id><published>2011-02-18T15:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T15:50:16.713-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Development'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>The T-Word</title><content type='html'>I find myself in a bit of an emotional bind over labeling Miss A as a t-to-tod-toddle.&amp;nbsp; Ugh, I can't even say the t-word.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When I start calling her the word that starts with a 't' and rhymes with swaddler, she's no longer a&amp;nbsp;wittle-bitty baby.&amp;nbsp; And that makes my heart break into a gazillion pieces.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole emotional dilemma started when she was around 10 months old and just starting to walk.&amp;nbsp; See, there's two schools of thought on the whole T-word label.&amp;nbsp; You can start when the baby starts walking, or you can wait until they have their first birthday.&amp;nbsp; Now, I don't understand why you want to prematurely call your baby a t-to-tod.&amp;nbsp; Oh you get it.&amp;nbsp; Unless you are one of those crazy parents who have all of their self worth wrapped up in how quickly their child advances through milestones.&amp;nbsp; These are the same parents that you find on the playground that explain to you that their child has been walking since they were 4 months and decided to be a vegetarian at age 2.&amp;nbsp; You know they are full of shit, but there's no easy way to prove it.&amp;nbsp; Then there's the people who want to keep their babies small for as long as possible so that the day never comes for them to become independent and push away from their mommy.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously I did not refer to my baby as anything other than a baby.&amp;nbsp; Then her first birthday came.&amp;nbsp; I continued to turn a cold shoulder to the T-word.&amp;nbsp; That is, until I received an e-mail from Baby Center talking about my t-t-t-todd-ler.&amp;nbsp; It stopped me dead in my tracks.&amp;nbsp; It literally felt like someone stuck a knife in my heart.&amp;nbsp; I ignored it and went back to be blissfully ignorant to the term.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later I was out with my BABY.&amp;nbsp; Someone asked me how old she was and I replied, 'She's 12 months'.&amp;nbsp; I could not bring myself to say 'Oh, she's 1'.&amp;nbsp; I'm not sure if I will ever be able to stop calling her by months.&amp;nbsp; Anna won't be 12 years, instead she will be&amp;nbsp;144 months old.&amp;nbsp; I fully understand that I have a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to her 12 month well-child appointment.&amp;nbsp; I was given a sheet of information from the office about different things to be aware of based on her age.&amp;nbsp; The horrible T-word was all over that stupid piece of paper.&amp;nbsp; I did the mature thing and threw it in the trash.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was still doing my best to avoid the topic when we decided to enroll Anna in a Mommy's Day&amp;nbsp;Out program.&amp;nbsp; I contacted the director and our conversation went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Director - 'How old is Anna?'&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'She's 12 months.'&lt;br /&gt;Director - 'Is she walking?'&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'She sure is!'&lt;br /&gt;Director - 'Can she feed herself?'&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'Oh yeah, she's a pro at shoveling it in.'&lt;br /&gt;Director - 'Then she will be put in the toddler room.'&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'Wait, what?&amp;nbsp; That has to be some kind of mistake.&amp;nbsp; For crying out loud.&amp;nbsp; SHE'S JUST A BABY!'&lt;br /&gt;Director - 'Is this going to be a problem?'&lt;br /&gt;Me - 'Ugh, it just might.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, one night, as if someone decided enough was enough and that I needed to be slapped in the face with reality - this came in the mail:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Toddlermail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="296" j6="true" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/Toddlermail.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was obviously mailed to the wrong house.&amp;nbsp; My name was spelled wrong...&amp;nbsp; See, it had to have gone to the wrong house.&amp;nbsp; It's all a mistake.&amp;nbsp; My BABY isn’t this big.&amp;nbsp; Right?&amp;nbsp; Screw you Enfagrow and your words of reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm left to work through my emotional turmoil.&amp;nbsp; In the meantime, I think I'll go cuddle with my baby and sniff her head a bit.&amp;nbsp; I've got to soak in some of that sweet baby smell and commit it&amp;nbsp;to permanent memory.&amp;nbsp; You know, before she officially grows up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-4011539486163614096?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/4011539486163614096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/t-word.html#comment-form' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4011539486163614096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/4011539486163614096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/t-word.html' title='The T-Word'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-2410573550649172737</id><published>2011-02-16T09:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T09:16:28.435-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Development'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Preemies'/><title type='text'>A V-Day Well Child Appointment</title><content type='html'>Miss A's 12-month well child appointment was Monday.&amp;nbsp; I know what you are thinking - 'Gasp, how can you subject your child to a doctor's appointment and vaccines on a day as sacred as Valentine's Day?'&amp;nbsp; I know - I'm a mean mommy.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we went to see good ol' Doc Schlansky.&amp;nbsp; It turns out that Anna is quite the beefcake ... measuring in at a whopping 18lb 11oz (12th percentile).&amp;nbsp; She's 30 inches long (or do I start saying tall now?), which is in the 77th percentile.&amp;nbsp; She actually jumped up a curve in height.&amp;nbsp; Her noggin is growing well at 45cm (47th percentile).&amp;nbsp; Schlansky is completely fine with all of her numbers and the rate that she is growing.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnaatDocApt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/AnnaatDocApt.jpg" width="297" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just waiting for the doctor in our room... &lt;br /&gt;My heart melts when she squats like that.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had several questions for the good doctor.&amp;nbsp; I mean, 12 months is a big time for a baby.&amp;nbsp; Yes, I am still calling her a baby.&amp;nbsp; I refuse to use the t-word.&amp;nbsp; You know, the one that rhymes with swaddler... It's a mental thing.&amp;nbsp; I'm working through it.&amp;nbsp; So, I had questions about starting on milk, high-allergen foods, her lack of clapping, and car seats.&amp;nbsp; There was a ton of information flowing from him ... where to start...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Milk:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&amp;nbsp; Because Anna is on Gentlease formula for gas issues,&amp;nbsp;he wants us to wean her onto milk instead of switching cold turkey.&amp;nbsp; So, we will start by making an 8 ounce bottle with 6 ounces of formula and 2 ounces of milk.&amp;nbsp; If she tolerates that (no gas or diarrhea) then we move to a 4-to-4 ratio.&amp;nbsp; Then to a 2-to-6.&amp;nbsp; If all is still fine, then we can go to only milk.&amp;nbsp; Get this, he is telling us to use 2% milk.&amp;nbsp; He doesn't believe in giving a child whole milk.&amp;nbsp; I know what you are thinking again&amp;nbsp;- 'Gasp! How can that be alright?&amp;nbsp; Doesn't the child need the fat content from whole milk to properly grow the myelin sheaths on their neurons?'&amp;nbsp; Well, maybe you weren't thinking those exact same words, but something along those lines.&amp;nbsp; I thought the same thing because I was always told that children need to drink whole milk.&amp;nbsp; Turns out they don't.&amp;nbsp; In the 20 years that&amp;nbsp;Anna'a doc has been doctoring, he has always told parents to use 2%.&amp;nbsp; There are studies that prove that children develop properly without the extra fat.&amp;nbsp; And two years ago the American Pediatric Association declared that 2% milk was fine for children who come from families with a risk for high cholesterol.&amp;nbsp; When you add in the fact that America is losing a battle with an obesity epidemic, his choice is to give babies 2% instead of whole milk.&amp;nbsp; And because I trust him, we will be a 2% family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;High-Allergen Foods:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; He gave me the go-ahead to try all of the high-risk foods with Anna.&amp;nbsp; I'm still a bit weary of going there, so I think we are going to hold off for a while.&amp;nbsp; She has already had strawberries, and was fine.&amp;nbsp; But, nuts and shellfish scare me.&amp;nbsp; Plus, Alex is allergic to shellfish so there's a higher chance that Anna will be.&amp;nbsp; I'm thinking we will wait until she's about 18 months or so.&amp;nbsp; This is purely because I'm a big scaredy cat when it comes to food allergies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Lack of Clapping:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Anna isn't clapping yet.&amp;nbsp; I'm sure you picked up on that from the title of this paragraph.&amp;nbsp; The lack of clapping isn't super concerning, it was how she moves her arms.&amp;nbsp; Her Parents As Teachers Educator kind of turned me onto it.&amp;nbsp; Don't get me wrong, she should be clapping - it's a milestone that she is late on.&amp;nbsp; Anyway, I noticed that she would bang toys together.&amp;nbsp; But instead of bringing both hands to the center, she holds her left hand steady and brings her right hand over to meet it.&amp;nbsp; She's also a little stiff when you try to work on clapping with her.&amp;nbsp; Can I just say that I never thought I would spend my day teaching someone to clap?&amp;nbsp; Who knew, right?&amp;nbsp; So, I went over this with the doc.&amp;nbsp; I also explained to him that she uses both hands and passes objects between hands.&amp;nbsp; After looking her over, Dr. Schlansky isn't concerned that she's not rhythmically clapping because she has really good muscle tone.&amp;nbsp; She isn't rigid, which would have been cause for concern.&amp;nbsp; So, we are&amp;nbsp;left to play Pat-A-Cake until our hands fall off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Car Seats:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I decided to ask the doctor what his opinion on the whole rear-facing verses front-facing car seat debate.&amp;nbsp; See, the guideline is that a child has to be one year AND 20 pounds before you can turn the seat to face the front.&amp;nbsp; Recently,&amp;nbsp;the thought is that you should leave your child rear facing until they are two years old.&amp;nbsp; I was confused, so I asked him.&amp;nbsp; His thought is that the whole 20 pound thing isn't as important as how the child fits when the seat is rear facing.&amp;nbsp; If the kid's legs can straighten out and not touch the back of the seat, then they should stay rear-facing.&amp;nbsp; If the child's feet are crammed against the seat, keeping their legs bent then it's time to turn them around.&amp;nbsp; So, there you have it - my doctor's thoughts on the subject.&amp;nbsp; In case you are wondering, Anna's feet and legs are not currently crammed.&amp;nbsp; So she will remain rear-facing for the time being.&amp;nbsp; Much to her displeasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the appointment I had to take Anna to get some blood drawn to test for anemia.&amp;nbsp; It's standard procedure for my pediatrician's office.&amp;nbsp; Anna H-A-T-E-D getting it done.&amp;nbsp; And so did Mommy.&amp;nbsp; We then raced over to the County Health office to get her vaccines.&amp;nbsp; After realizing just how crappy our insurance is a few months back, we now get all of her vaccines from County Health.&amp;nbsp; They are free there - so, it's kind of a no-brainer.&amp;nbsp; Just be prepared to meet some 'interesting' people in the waiting room.&amp;nbsp; Nothing like sitting next to someone waiting for their free STD testing... Now, I'm not going to dive into the whole vaccine debate, because it can get really heated really fast.&amp;nbsp; I will say that Miss A is completely vaccinated, but at a slightly different schedule than what the CDC states.&amp;nbsp; If you are really curious, let me know and I can share it with you.&amp;nbsp; The altered schedule is from her pediatrician, not from me.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All-in-all the appointments were great.&amp;nbsp; Anna is progressing as she should and has been declared healthy (and lanky) by her doctor!!&amp;nbsp; And for everyone that was mad at me for making her go through all of this on Valentine's Day - you will be happy to know that I made it up to her with a special little treat at home.&amp;nbsp; So, take that Hallmark! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-2410573550649172737?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/2410573550649172737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/v-day-well-child-appointment.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2410573550649172737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/2410573550649172737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/v-day-well-child-appointment.html' title='A V-Day Well Child Appointment'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1498093901051417585</id><published>2011-02-15T10:11:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T10:11:47.120-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nugget List'/><title type='text'>Nugget List</title><content type='html'>- We celebrated Valentine's Day by eating lunch at The&amp;nbsp;Blue Owl the day before.&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.theblueowl.com/"&gt;The Blue Owl&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;is famous for their pies.&amp;nbsp; And not famous in a way that they declare that they have the 'world's hottest coffee'.&amp;nbsp; No, they are actually really well known.&amp;nbsp; The really crazy thing is that they are located in a town of about 15 people.&amp;nbsp; I'm assuming that all 15 of those people work at this restaurant.&amp;nbsp; I mean, someone has to crank out the scads of desserts that they offer.&amp;nbsp; It was fabulous!&amp;nbsp; I&amp;nbsp;celebrated the evening of the big day in class. Taking a test.&amp;nbsp; Doesn't the professor get that this Hallmark Holiday is sacred??&amp;nbsp; It still beats last year's Valentine's Day - we spent the evening reading and holding Anna in the NICU.&amp;nbsp; Okay, that was pretty special.&amp;nbsp; Maybe it's all relative.&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/BlueOwlLeveeHighApplePie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="297" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/BlueOwlLeveeHighApplePie.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The famous Levee High Apple Pie!&amp;nbsp; They use 18 apples to make that sucker.&amp;nbsp; Just let that sink in.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿&lt;br /&gt;- Anna's new thing right now is to climb into her toy basket and play with toys while sitting&amp;nbsp;inside the basket.&amp;nbsp; She'll sit in there for hours.&amp;nbsp; Alright, I could be exaggerating.&amp;nbsp; She'll stay in there for minutes, at least.&amp;nbsp; When it's time to get out, she cries to be 'rescued'.&amp;nbsp; I don't think she's figured out that the same motions she used to get into the basket will also get her out.&amp;nbsp; Or she's just super dramatic.&amp;nbsp; I'm worried it's the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I think Miss A is beginning the dreaded separation anxiety phase that most kids go through.&amp;nbsp; When we dropped her off in the nursery at church, I gave her a kiss and told her bye-bye as we were leaving.&amp;nbsp; She realized what was going on and just started sobbing while walking toward us.&amp;nbsp; I know the best thing is to just leave and not drag out the goodbyes.&amp;nbsp; So we quickly left the room.&amp;nbsp; Oh.my.lands.it.was.heart.breaking.&amp;nbsp; When church was over she clung to me like a little monkey, which was perfectly alright with me.&amp;nbsp; Something tells me that we are in for a bumpy road on this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Our driveway still has ice on it.&amp;nbsp; The temperature has finally climbed above tundra level so it is slowly starting to melt.&amp;nbsp; Alex went to get in his car on Monday to go to work and the car had slid down the driveway and kind of turned sideways.&amp;nbsp; We are assuming that it was the ice's fault.&amp;nbsp; I guess someone could have tied to steal our car and failed.&amp;nbsp; Who knows, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I did all of the laundry this past week.&amp;nbsp; I even folded it all, which is quite the feat.&amp;nbsp; The clean, folded laundry is currently sitting in piles in our upstairs loft.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don't have a problem with the process of washing and drying the clothes.&amp;nbsp; I can even be&amp;nbsp;somewhat&amp;nbsp;alright with folding them.&amp;nbsp; It's the putting away that always throws me for a loop.&amp;nbsp; I think I have a serious problem with finishing things.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1498093901051417585?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1498093901051417585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/nugget-list.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1498093901051417585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1498093901051417585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/nugget-list.html' title='Nugget List'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3894322240877956562</id><published>2011-02-13T15:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T15:24:08.900-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photo Essay'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><title type='text'>Party Animal: A Photo Essay</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/181598_691367631608_4701772_38076164_7283921_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/181598_691367631608_4701772_38076164_7283921_n.jpg" width="265" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;My shirt says I'm one!&amp;nbsp; And check out my &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/01/easy-peasy-no-sew-tutu.html"&gt;tutu&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;that my awesome mommy made for me.&amp;nbsp; I'm looking pretty stinkin cute today!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/180874_691367666538_4701772_38076165_1637144_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="265" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/180874_691367666538_4701772_38076165_1637144_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ummm, did you know that today's my birthday party??&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/181770_691367756358_4701772_38076170_2418487_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/181770_691367756358_4701772_38076170_2418487_n.jpg" width="293" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dangit, it's my frickin party and I'll cry if I want to.&amp;nbsp; So, get over it!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/180870_691367906058_4701772_38076176_3142833_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/180870_691367906058_4701772_38076176_3142833_n.jpg" width="265" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm a little happier now ... just having a little sit down with Daddy.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/180798_691368075718_4701772_38076182_6397664_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/180798_691368075718_4701772_38076182_6397664_n.jpg" width="261" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;My yummy cupcakes that my Aunt Ashley made for me.&amp;nbsp; Delish!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/167746_691368105658_4701772_38076184_3884217_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/167746_691368105658_4701772_38076184_3884217_n.jpg" width="265" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hi Cousin Will!&amp;nbsp; Did you know that today's my birthday??&amp;nbsp; My hat even says so.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/179890_691368165538_4701772_38076185_3919666_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="265" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/179890_691368165538_4701772_38076185_3919666_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;What's this funny lookin thing?&amp;nbsp; It feels sticky - I LIKE IT!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/179366_691368265338_4701772_38076190_6682852_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="265" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/179366_691368265338_4701772_38076190_6682852_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Could you guys leave me alone.&amp;nbsp; I'm trying to shovel in cake right now.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/167286_691368325218_4701772_38076191_3503600_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="265" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/167286_691368325218_4701772_38076191_3503600_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is the best thing I've ever eaten!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/167562_691368454958_4701772_38076195_2212612_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="265" src="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/167562_691368454958_4701772_38076195_2212612_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Being '1' rocks my&amp;nbsp;Pampers off!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3894322240877956562?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3894322240877956562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/party-animal-photo-essay.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3894322240877956562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3894322240877956562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/party-animal-photo-essay.html' title='Party Animal: A Photo Essay'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-3708066265141184905</id><published>2011-02-12T09:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T09:00:09.389-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Project 52'/><title type='text'>Project 52: Week 6</title><content type='html'>Before I was a mom, I swore up and down that the dog's toys would never get mixed in with the baby's toys.&amp;nbsp; I guess Miss A didn't get the memo.&amp;nbsp; I was the perfect mother - back before I actually had a child.&amp;nbsp; You can call it stupidity, but I prefer to think of it as being naive...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4135/5437190326_f3d480bb85_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4135/5437190326_f3d480bb85_b.jpg" width="424" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-3708066265141184905?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/3708066265141184905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/project-52-week-6.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3708066265141184905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/3708066265141184905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/project-52-week-6.html' title='Project 52: Week 6'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4135/5437190326_f3d480bb85_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-1646947133826343119</id><published>2011-02-11T09:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T09:03:46.700-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lucy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Less Than Perfect'/><title type='text'>Have you ever wondered...</title><content type='html'>...what happens when you leave a fresh poopy diaper alone with a mouthy golden retriever?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/DestroyedPoopyDiaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="296" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/DestroyedPoopyDiaper.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And now you know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-1646947133826343119?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/1646947133826343119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/have-you-ever-wondered.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1646947133826343119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/1646947133826343119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/have-you-ever-wondered.html' title='Have you ever wondered...'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-7372160315181585572</id><published>2011-02-10T09:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T09:58:25.107-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adulthood'/><title type='text'>You don't get a break from being a mommy...</title><content type='html'>I remember when I was a young lass that it was completely and totally horrible when my mom got sick.&amp;nbsp; The house kind of fell apart.&amp;nbsp; When Dad got sick, nothing really changed.&amp;nbsp; I mean, we felt bad for him, but it didn't really effect me.&amp;nbsp; When Mom was sick, everything went to crap.&amp;nbsp; My father didn't even&amp;nbsp;know how to turn on the oven, so dinner consisted of take out or anything from the pantry that didn't need to be heated.&amp;nbsp; We were late to everything and we'd run out of clean panties.&amp;nbsp; It wasn't pretty.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm the mommy in my house, I have a better understanding of the situation.&amp;nbsp; It's common knowledge that I've been out of commission for a couple of weeks.&amp;nbsp; I was out of town for several days and was welcomed home with open arms, a huge pile of laundry, and a really messy house.&amp;nbsp; The next day I was admitted to the hospital because &lt;a href="http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/01/gail-go-take-long-walk-off-short-pier.html"&gt;Gail the Gallbladder&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;was a big diva and insisted on making an early exit.&amp;nbsp; Recovering from surgery has taken longer than I thought it would.&amp;nbsp; I was told that I would feel fine after four days.&amp;nbsp; I didn't.&amp;nbsp; I wasn't anywhere close to feeling fine.&amp;nbsp; I don't know what I was thinking.&amp;nbsp; Hell, I had an organ removed.&amp;nbsp; It's only right to take some time to recover.&amp;nbsp; As I sat around like a big lazy lump, I watched my house turn into a chaotic mess.&amp;nbsp; I was powerless to stop it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to accept help.&amp;nbsp; And I'm not good at that.&amp;nbsp; That could be part of the problem.&amp;nbsp; Eh, hindsight 20/20 - right?&amp;nbsp; But since Gail was such a big 'B' even in her departure, I had no choice but to accept help.&amp;nbsp; My mother-in-law ended up folding my panties.&amp;nbsp; That's how bad it got.&amp;nbsp; Don't get me wrong - Alex did a great job keeping us trucking while I was down for the count.&amp;nbsp; I have to add that I stumbled across&amp;nbsp;him laying on the floor one evening.&amp;nbsp; I asked him what he was doing and he explained that he was so completely tired from taking care of Anna all day that all he could manage at that point was to lay on the floor.&amp;nbsp; I will say that the satisfaction of him admitting that my 'job' is hard tasted oh so sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm finally starting to feel better, it's becoming obvious that Mom's are the glue that hold everything together.&amp;nbsp; I am working on whittling away the massive laundry pile, restocking our now bare fridge and pantry, and attempting to get the house back in order.&amp;nbsp; I'm working on paying the bills and updating our monthly budget.&amp;nbsp; Funny thing - bill collectors could care less if you've just left the hospital with one less organ than you had going in.&amp;nbsp; Jerks.&amp;nbsp; I'm getting back into the swing of classes and work.&amp;nbsp; Oh yeah - I'm also tending to my child in a manner that epitomizes the majority of parenting books. *cough, cough*&amp;nbsp; Why are you laughing?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, you might have noticed a slight lull in posts around here.&amp;nbsp; I know that you are anxiously sitting by your computer refreshing my blog in hopes of a new post appearing.&amp;nbsp; I sincerely apologize for wasting your time.&amp;nbsp; I promise to jump back into the whirlwind that is my life and wrangle it down to a manageable breeze.&amp;nbsp; Because, honestly, no one should be handling my panties but me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/emb-granny-panties_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/emb-granny-panties_0.jpg" width="308" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/signature2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-7372160315181585572?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/7372160315181585572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/you-dont-get-break-from-being-mommy.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7372160315181585572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/7372160315181585572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/you-dont-get-break-from-being-mommy.html' title='You don&apos;t get a break from being a mommy...'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ej2QGokfPWw/TS9HPMnBz5I/AAAAAAAAAos/pIyj7gBhEZY/S220/button.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m624/TheUnglamorousMommy/blog%20design/th_signature2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435225790695885126.post-5013122433218637984</id><published>2011-02-07T11:46:00.083-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T11:46:00.293-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anna Growing Up'/><title type='text'>Anna: 11th Month</title><content type='html'>Well Miss A, today at 11:46am you turned one.&amp;nbsp; I can't even believe it.&amp;nbsp; Where in the heck did the time go?&amp;nbsp; I can hardly believe that it's been a year.&amp;nbsp; My, how the time has flown.&amp;nbsp; And in that short time, you have grown into such an amazing little girl.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are ONE BUSY LITTLE GIRL!&amp;nbsp; You have mastered walking and standing without pulling up on anything.&amp;nbsp; All day long you walk around the house exploring.&amp;nbsp; You are an expert stair climber!&amp;nbsp; Sometimes we just climb up stairs all day long.&amp;nbsp; You don't usually play with your toys.&amp;nbsp; Instead you like dragging everything out of the toy box and bookshelf.&amp;nbsp; Toys are hiding all over the house now because of you!&amp;nbsp;You prefer to have something in your hand while walking so you can shake it.&amp;nbsp; You also like carrying things in your mouth like Lucy does.&amp;nbsp; We think you might have learned that little trick from ol' Luce.&amp;nbsp; You learned how to shake your head 'no' and do it constantly.&amp;nbsp; It's completely adorable now ... but Mommy has been warned that it&amp;nbsp;will get old pretty soon.&amp;nbsp; You are really babbling now.&amp;nbsp; It's clear you think you are talking and forming words.&amp;nbsp; Mommy just babbles right back, much to your delight.&amp;nbsp; We have long babble-versations all day long!&amp;nbsp; You have a thing for mouths and love sticking your fingers into&amp;nbsp;my mouth when I'm talking to you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It's a big germfest around here!&amp;nbsp; You also love feeding other people.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You squeal with delight when Daddy eats food out of your hand.&amp;nbsp; You really love feeding Lucy too.&amp;nbsp; She will lick your hands&amp;nbsp;as she&amp;nbsp;waits impatiently for scraps.&amp;nbsp; You toss over what you don't want to eat to her.&amp;nbsp; The vet told us that&amp;nbsp;Lucy has gained 5 pounds.&amp;nbsp; You are bad for Lucy's waistline!&amp;nbsp; Your absolute favorite thing right now would have to be stuffed animals.&amp;nbsp; When Mommy hands you a doll you giggle with delight.&amp;nbsp; You'll take the baby and squeeze it and then stick a&amp;nbsp;part of it in your mouth and 'kiss' the baby.&amp;nbsp; Mommy and Daddy even let you have a baby or two in your crib at night.&amp;nbsp; We've caught you snuggling with your baby while you sleep.&amp;nbsp; It completely melts our hearts!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are still a tinsy-tiny little girl.&amp;nbsp; You are wearing 6-9 month clothes still.&amp;nbsp; Your pants are starting to get a bit short, so I think 12 month clothes are close.&amp;nbsp; Although I'm not sure your little belly is going to hold up your britches.&amp;nbsp; I'm not sure of your official 12-month height and weight (your appointment is next week).&amp;nbsp; But, I took you to the doctor the other day because you were running a fever.&amp;nbsp; With all of your clothes and shoes on you were 18lb, 2oz.&amp;nbsp; What a chunk!! ;) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking back to a year ago.&amp;nbsp; Mommy and Daddy were so scared when you were born.&amp;nbsp; You were so little and helpless.&amp;nbsp; We figured out how to be parents and you taught us a thing or two.&amp;nbsp; It's been one heck of a road to travel down with you!&amp;nbsp; It's been an amazing year.&amp;nbsp; We've watched you grow and learn and become your own little person.&amp;nbsp; Being your mommy has been the most amazing experience.&amp;nbsp; Mommy and Daddy are so blessed to have you as our little girl!&amp;nbsp; We love you more than you will ever know!!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Baby Girl!!!!&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5016/5423766814_918f14582a_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="560" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5016/5423766814_918f14582a_b.jpg" width="640" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8435225790695885126-5013122433218637984?l=www.theunglamorousmommy.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/feeds/5013122433218637984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/anna-11th-month.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5013122433218637984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8435225790695885126/posts/default/5013122433218637984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.theunglamorousmommy.com/2011/02/anna-11th-month.html' title='Anna: 11th Month'/><author><name>The Unglamorous Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15686943788905043865</uri><email>noreply@b
