<?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-3790178307450069125</id><updated>2012-01-21T15:31:24.825-05:00</updated><category term='domestic'/><category term='open mouth insert foot'/><category term='life in the old days'/><category term='math is fun'/><category term='classy'/><category term='dinner'/><category term='movies'/><category term='bugs'/><category term='DIY'/><category term='kardashian love'/><category term='foooooood'/><category term='dear mother nature you suck'/><category term='save a life'/><category term='grad classes'/><category term='where do babies come from'/><category term='upgrade'/><category term='sometimes i make the dumbest 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term='annoying people'/><category term='blonde moment'/><category term='overheard'/><category term='papers'/><category term='school days'/><category term='DC'/><category term='friends'/><category term='sometimes it&apos;s the little things'/><category term='poop adventures'/><category term='back to school'/><category term='children'/><category term='reduce reuse recycle'/><category term='life kinda sucks sometimes'/><category term='meet the teacher'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='stress'/><category term='i can&apos;t believe she said that'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='teacher week'/><category term='random'/><category term='whatever happens in vegas'/><category term='grrrrrr'/><category term='2010'/><category term='i think it&apos;s about time to go grocery shopping'/><category term='goals'/><category term='sometimes being an adult just isn&apos;t so much fun'/><category term='reality tv'/><category term='e'/><category term='award'/><category term='i think you&apos;re exaggerating a bit'/><category term='sometimes it&apos;s not all butterflies and rainbows'/><category term='ANTM'/><category term='everything i need to know about life i learned in first grade'/><category term='absence makes the heart grow fonder'/><category term='revenge of the nerds'/><category term='blah'/><category term='i can&apos;t stand it when'/><category term='my nane is lori and i&apos;m a bagaholic'/><category term='tell me how you really feel'/><category term='weight watchers'/><category term='vote'/><category term='love story'/><category term='bah humbug'/><category term='preptastic'/><category term='I heart family'/><title type='text'>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>692</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-847234203154605255</id><published>2012-01-19T13:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T13:01:23.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sight Word Shout Out..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;As I was doing a sight word assessment on my little fellas, Mr. Wiggles (one of my new students-- I&amp;#39;ll elaborate more later, but his name on here is totally fitting) read the word &lt;font size="6"&gt;hot. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="6"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;That&amp;#39;s what you are, Ms. L. Hot. The hottest teacher, ever.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Duh. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-847234203154605255?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/847234203154605255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=847234203154605255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/847234203154605255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/847234203154605255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2012/01/sight-word-shout-out.html' title='Sight Word Shout Out..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-2315956299635140079</id><published>2012-01-18T19:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T19:39:31.409-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='half marathon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='running is for the birds'/><title type='text'>{crickets...}</title><content type='html'>Sorry for the absence. No excuses. Just life. I'm training for a half marathon and, well.. that sh!t just gets in the way. I use that term because, well, I'm not a runner and therefore it's more like torture than pleasure. So, it's preeeeeety sh!tty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will leave you this little gem of a conversation between me and my beloved running buddy (i.e. the lovely "friend" who twisted my arm to run 13.1 miles. Which, by the way, happens to be approximately 13 miles longer than I prefer to run!) on facebook. Obviously the names have been changed to protect the &lt;em&gt;innocent&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;Long Legged Lucy: Note to self: if you run through mud and then allow your shoes to dry but do not clean them off, you will have mud in your carpet. Genius.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;I made the same mistake. Except Nicole told me to jump up and down, causing there to be three times as much mud on the wood floors. Equally as dumb. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Long Legged Lucy: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Did you have a total freak out that it was dog poop at first? Because I did. Then I remembered that we walked up that hill.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I was more freaked that my shoes were muddy at any given point. Then I remembered it made us legit runners and I wasn't sad anymore. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;We totally aren't legit runners (well, she is but I'm just a poser..) but we felt like it after completing 5 miles on a blistery Saturday. I should also note that for the first 3 miles I complained non-stop about having to make a pit stop to go #2 until she finally caved and let me go. Something about running makes me have to poop. Weird. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-2315956299635140079?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/2315956299635140079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=2315956299635140079' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2315956299635140079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2315956299635140079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2012/01/crickets.html' title='{crickets...}'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5024012230008207111</id><published>2012-01-05T08:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T08:03:25.689-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Teacher's Rant...</title><content type='html'>My life has been turned upside down at the land of chaos. You see, I&lt;br&gt;started the year off with 2 students. Yes, you read that correctly. I&lt;br&gt;was teaching 2 students each day. With an assistant. And an intern.&lt;br&gt;(As wonderful as that sounds, it&amp;#39;s actually not so great. Try being&lt;br&gt;the conductor of a circus that contains more adults than kids-- adults&lt;br&gt;kinda suck sometimes.)&lt;p&gt;We added two more to the mix. Chaos has ensued.&lt;p&gt;It&amp;#39;s actually kind of a lovely sort of chaos, as I enjoy a challenge&lt;br&gt;and these two new kids are sure to provide that. Also? The originals,&lt;br&gt;as I lovingly refer to them, are a little bitter about having to share&lt;br&gt;my attention. Turns out all of these kids really only want the&lt;br&gt;attention from the teacher, me. Nobody else. Just me.&lt;p&gt;Crap. There&amp;#39;s only one of me and 4 of them. They are all attention&lt;br&gt;whores and demand my attention RIGHT THIS MINUTE.&lt;p&gt;But the best part? They actually talk. A lot. (again, normally not&lt;br&gt;something I would enjoy.. but ya&amp;#39;ll.. it&amp;#39;s been so quiet and quiet&lt;br&gt;means no blogging material, duh!) And because of that talking, I can&lt;br&gt;assure you I will have blog material.&lt;p&gt;Just as soon as I can get my head above water.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-5024012230008207111?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5024012230008207111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5024012230008207111' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5024012230008207111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5024012230008207111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2012/01/teachers-rant.html' title='A Teacher&apos;s Rant...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7388339098832025287</id><published>2012-01-05T07:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T07:58:52.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Auto-correct FAIL.</title><content type='html'>Actual text...&lt;p&gt;Sorry! I&amp;#39;m at a baby shower. I have to cancel genitals night.&lt;p&gt;Wait! Not genitals. Fajitas. Fajitas! Food. Not body parts.&lt;p&gt;Made all the better because it was to The Boy. I&amp;#39;m wondering how long&lt;br&gt;it will take to live this one down... Oi vey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7388339098832025287?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7388339098832025287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7388339098832025287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7388339098832025287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7388339098832025287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2012/01/auto-correct-fail.html' title='Auto-correct FAIL.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7637063181774213619</id><published>2011-12-22T07:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T07:51:25.344-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Pleasures..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;One of our local radio stations does a segment every Thursday morning titled, &amp;quot;Simple Pleasures&amp;quot;. People call in and share things that are very small but make a huge impact. Every week I listen to the things people share and think about how blessed I am. This was a huge eye opener today, of all days. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;It seems every morning I have been driving to work nearly in tears because of a song or a Christmas miracle that was shared on the radio. This morning? Instead of playing Pity Party of One, I realized I need to count my simple pleasures, especially during a time of year that is so painful because of my father&amp;#39;s passing. You see, this will be our first &amp;quot;official&amp;quot; Christmas without my Dad. Last year we were all just in a dark hole and cancelled Christmas. This is also our first family vacation without my dad.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;While I&amp;#39;ve spent many nights anxious about what is to come, I now have a renewed sense of peace. While my dad will not be with us physically, he will be with us in our hearts. A place he will never leave. My family and I are so very fortunate to travel this Christmas to the sunny beaches of Curacao (off the coast of Venezuela, if you&amp;#39;re wondering) and we will be together. Together. Something many families cannot do, whether it be due to miles, work commitments, or deployment. We will be together. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;And that, my friends, is my simple pleasure. Togetherness. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7637063181774213619?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7637063181774213619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7637063181774213619' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7637063181774213619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7637063181774213619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/12/simple-pleasures.html' title='Simple Pleasures..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-6554530590055603190</id><published>2011-12-18T12:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T12:07:57.180-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lord help us all'/><title type='text'>Weiner....dogs?</title><content type='html'>Little Big Man came in with a new t-shirt today. It was, uh, a little &lt;em&gt;inappropriate. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It said, "I love my wiener" with a picture of a wiener dog. The best part? Trying to explain to him why the shirt was inappropriate. I said something to the effect of, "Your shirt is talking about wiener dogs, but not everyone understands that. Someone might think you're talking about your, uh, well, uh, privates." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he went to time out (in another room with another adult), he told the adult, "My shirt is &lt;em&gt;appropriate&lt;/em&gt;. It's talking about wieners. Your wiener is your private." Yes, he totally meant inappropriate but said it wrong. The adult was all sorts of confused. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um.. hello? You sent your child in to school with a shirt referencing wieners? Wow. Klassy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-6554530590055603190?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/6554530590055603190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=6554530590055603190' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6554530590055603190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6554530590055603190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/12/weinerdogs.html' title='Weiner....dogs?'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-420503524206080049</id><published>2011-12-13T20:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T20:55:51.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'>365 days...</title><content type='html'>One year ago today, I lost my father. &lt;p&gt;My mom put it well when she commented on Facebook about the things she had learned through this. Besides the crazy emotions, she mentioned the importance of time and compassion for others. &lt;p&gt;Please take time to tell those you love how much they mean to you. Have compassion for others, as you don&amp;#39;t know what they are going through. If anyone would have crossed paths with me today, they may have mistaken my crabby attitude for someone who is just plain rude. Instead, I was having a hard time keeping my emotions in check. But to the cashier who smiled and told me to be blessed, I thank you. Your kind words reminded me to count my blessings. While I can&amp;#39;t hug my dad physically, or hear his laugh, I can remember the hugs we shared and the jokes he told. &lt;p&gt;I am still grieving and will be for some time, but I&amp;#39;m thankful to be surrounded by those who care for me. I&amp;#39;m thankful for a roof over my head and food on the table. I have heat that works and will have a wonderful Christmas. I&amp;#39;m luckier than a lot of people this Christmas because of that.&lt;p&gt;And because I have a guardian angel looking down on me. &lt;p&gt;Sent from my iPad&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-420503524206080049?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/420503524206080049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=420503524206080049' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/420503524206080049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/420503524206080049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/12/365-days.html' title='365 days...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4100093383265958227</id><published>2011-12-05T18:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-05T18:27:27.552-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids say the darndest things'/><title type='text'>Christmas Presents and Sand</title><content type='html'>My little man was upset today because his dad made him eat broccoli. He was practically devastated his father would make him do something so horrid. I began explaining that it was not corporal punishment, especially because I happen to love broccoli and if someone forced me to eat it, I would happily oblige.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was when Christmas present ideas began flowing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ms. L, I'm going to buy you broccoli for Christmas because you love it so much. I have $15, how much broccoli can I buy you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um.. that's a whole lotta broccoli, my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Or, I could buy you a DS game that has puppies instead of shooting. I know you don't like shooting. But you love Zoey, so a puppy game would be cool." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, well.. I don't have a DS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll buy you a DS and a puppy game."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And later on? In the middle of math, "I can't skip count by tens when I have sand in my ears! It's impossible!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, skip counting and other great mathematical endeavors are impossible when sand invades your ears, rendering you unable to complete math tasks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE my job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4100093383265958227?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4100093383265958227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4100093383265958227' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4100093383265958227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4100093383265958227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-presents-and-sand.html' title='Christmas Presents and Sand'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-6105432138166278492</id><published>2011-12-04T18:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T18:09:14.665-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspiration'/><title type='text'>Inspiration</title><content type='html'>Or, the story of how a 10 year old has forever changed my outlook on life. &lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if I've told you all this, but I'm a coach for Girls on the Run (GOTR). GOTR is a program that encourages young ladies in grades 3-5 to believe in themselves, through running. We spend 12 weeks learning about ourselves, others, and our community, while training for a 5K. Each of the girls participates in the 5K with a running buddy- an adult who completes the 3.1 miles by their side. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enter "Jill". Jill is a 5th grader who is very overweight. She signed up because "why not?" (her words, not mine). Her family encouraged her, but doubted her ability to actually run the 5K. And I'll be honest, I did, too. In practice, she worked to the best of her ability, but never could run a whole lot. She encouraged her teammates, but always doubted herself. If one of the other girls spoke poorly about themselves, she was the first to give that girl a compliment. She believed in everyone but herself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today? She completed a 5K.&amp;nbsp;It wasn't pretty. There were tears. We walked, walked, and walked. It was blood, sweat, and tears for every inch of those 3.1 miles. At mile one, I was full of doubt. I couldn't see any other girls and I knew we were headed for dead last. At the first water station, we started to see the front of the pack. They were minutes away from finishing. We were MILES away from finishing. At mile 2, we didn't see anyone except race volunteers. At mile 2.5, one person asked us if we were the last ones out there. We were. But we weren't going to stop. At mile 3, she asked me what the point was in finishing because no one would be at the finish line, we were the last ones out there. She cried for a moment and asked to stop. She told me she couldn't do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But SHE did it. SHE finished. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHE INSPIRES ME. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am forever changed by the courage it took for Jill to finish that 5K. She could have given up. But she didn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She finished that race, and changed my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-6105432138166278492?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/6105432138166278492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=6105432138166278492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6105432138166278492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6105432138166278492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/12/inspiration.html' title='Inspiration'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-8769859700017947734</id><published>2011-11-30T10:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-30T10:26:53.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vom City</title><content type='html'>Ya&amp;#39;ll.. I almost vommed. Straight up vom in my mouth in front of my kids.&lt;p&gt;All because I fall for peer pressure every.single.time.&lt;p&gt;My assistant was all like, &amp;quot;Something smells funky. What could it be?&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt;And I&amp;#39;m all like, &amp;quot;Uh. I have no clue.&amp;quot; She did some crazy recon&lt;br&gt;mission and looked all over to find the culprit of the smell.&lt;p&gt;She found it, all right and proceeded to make my intern smell it. Then&lt;br&gt;she asked me to smell it and I immediately said, &amp;quot;No way. I&amp;#39;m no&lt;br&gt;fool.&amp;quot; They were egging me on even more and I fell for the peer&lt;br&gt;pressure.&lt;p&gt;I took a baby whiff. Just a small one. Tiny, even.&lt;p&gt;And BAM! It hit me like a ton of bricks and before I knew it, I was&lt;br&gt;gagging and vomming in my mouth.&lt;p&gt;In front of the kids.&lt;p&gt;I ran out of there so quickly, swallowed, and went back with a smile&lt;br&gt;on my face. Well, after I rinsed out my mouth of course.&lt;p&gt;Go ahead, sign me up for teacher of the year award. I got this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-8769859700017947734?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/8769859700017947734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=8769859700017947734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8769859700017947734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8769859700017947734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/11/vom-city.html' title='Vom City'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1405116657590062960</id><published>2011-11-27T22:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-27T22:08:48.585-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's official...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tLdPh_7Bs04/TtL7QBpoWhI/AAAAAAAAAkI/Zm9R09kToWY/s1600/photo-728590.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tLdPh_7Bs04/TtL7QBpoWhI/AAAAAAAAAkI/Zm9R09kToWY/s320/photo-728590.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679878332807141906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1405116657590062960?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1405116657590062960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1405116657590062960' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1405116657590062960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1405116657590062960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/11/its-official.html' title='It&apos;s official...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tLdPh_7Bs04/TtL7QBpoWhI/AAAAAAAAAkI/Zm9R09kToWY/s72-c/photo-728590.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-166594117713673760</id><published>2011-11-21T15:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-21T15:25:54.213-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fudgesicle...</title><content type='html'>Crap.&lt;p&gt;Oh no.&lt;p&gt;What have I done?!&lt;p&gt;I just signed up for the 2012 Sun Trust Rock &amp;#39;n Roll half marathon in DC.&lt;p&gt;Crap.&lt;p&gt;Oh no.&lt;p&gt;I think I might have lost my mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-166594117713673760?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/166594117713673760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=166594117713673760' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/166594117713673760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/166594117713673760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/11/fudgesicle.html' title='Fudgesicle...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7638018354618703033</id><published>2011-11-20T09:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T09:25:23.323-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>Spoiled...</title><content type='html'>Okay ladies..I have the best guy in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess who gave ME a present on his birthday? Not just an ordinary present (that's not how he rolls) but jewelry. A strand of pearls! A beautiful pearl necklace. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I'll keep him around for awhile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we are on the topic of spoiled, I realized I never told you all about my birthday! Long story, but I'll make it short. Roomie arranged for mom to fly down, BFF arranged a surprise party. The boy kept me busy so everyone could gather. And I was shocked as hell to see my mom there! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mom bought me an iPad. The boy bought me a super hot coach bag. The BFF got me Vera. And BFF from high school sent a tar-jay gift card which came in super handy a few weeks ago when I bought a pasta container. Don't judge, I hate the stupid boxes of spaghetti, so this bad boy keeps it upright and airtight. Other people were so very thoughtful, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as my brother would say... I'm not spoiled, I'm just well taken care of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7638018354618703033?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7638018354618703033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7638018354618703033' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7638018354618703033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7638018354618703033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/11/spoiled.html' title='Spoiled...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7841135764383803741</id><published>2011-11-16T19:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-16T19:30:30.047-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death sucks no matter how you look at it'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Missing Him..</title><content type='html'>They say time heals all wounds. And I'm sure after a good amount of time has passed, that's probably true. A year, however, is just not enough time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the next couple of weeks, I will be tackling some big hurdles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First up? Thanksgiving. One of my dad's favorite holidays. He loved Thanksgiving because we had all of our family together (an event that only happens once a year) and we ate ourselves sick. My dad loved his family and his food. While I'm thankful I will still get the opportunity to spend time with family, a huge hole will be there. A black cloud hanging over the holiday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to cook with my dad by my side. While it wasn't always pretty (we ALWAYS seemed to run in to eachother and my parents kitchen is not small by any means) and there was sure to be a comment under our breath&amp;nbsp;aimed toward&amp;nbsp;other, it will be lonely without him there. It will be &lt;em&gt;painfully&lt;/em&gt; lonely in the kitchen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few short weeks after that hurdle, we will have made it&amp;nbsp;one year without my father. It makes me break out in a sweat just thinking about it. A year. Three hundred sixty five days without my dad. I've done a lot in those days, but it just seems so unreal. I will no longer measure his passing in months, I'll switch to years. How? How has it been a year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that? Oh.. that big holiday. Christmas. His second favorite holiday. We're not really celebrating it this year. Instead of white snowflakes, we'll be laying on the white beaches of Curacao. It will be a wonderful vacation, I'm sure. But again, that hole. The big, gaping hole that will be in our hearts. He will not be there. Do we know how to travel without him? I'm not sure. There has never been a time, that I can remember, that I went on a vacation with the entire family, without my dad. How will we make it through? Will we smile knowing he is with us? When my brother laughs, it's my dad's laugh. When he smiles, it's my dad. Heck, just looking at my brother, we see my dad. But yet, he's not there. I know he's "with us in spirit" but sometimes spirit just isn't enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a heavy heart these days. And the next couple of weeks will only add to that. While I'm blessed to have a wonderful family and I wouldn't trade them for the world, I do wish for one more day with him. One more day to hear his laugh. One more hug. One more I love you. One more...everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that my family and I can make it through these next couple of weeks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7841135764383803741?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7841135764383803741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7841135764383803741' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7841135764383803741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7841135764383803741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/11/missing-him.html' title='Missing Him..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3904076910253266711</id><published>2011-11-15T10:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T10:09:07.101-05:00</updated><title type='text'>F@rt Guns</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Please pardon the interruption... (you know, the silence that has been pretty constant for a few weeks now on this here blog. No excuses, just lack of content. i.e. I&amp;#39;m &lt;i&gt;super&lt;/i&gt; boring.)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;This little &lt;b&gt;gem&lt;/b&gt; of a story was just what I needed to break the funk. The blog funk. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;One little fella from one of the other classes was playing with my little darling when I overheard him talking about guns. Curious about what the boys might actually be up to, I cleared my throat and reminded them, &amp;quot;Boys. Remember, we don&amp;#39;t talk about guns in school.&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;The little fella turned to me and said, &amp;quot;But I&amp;#39;m talking about a gun &lt;b&gt;everybody &lt;/b&gt;has.&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&amp;quot;Ugh, what? A gun we all have?&amp;quot;, I asked him curiously. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&amp;quot;Yes! A fart gun! You know,&amp;quot; he said, pointing to his behind, &amp;quot;toot, toot, toot! A fart gun!&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;I began laughing uncontrollably because I&amp;#39;m &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; mature. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Where do they get their material? Kids.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3904076910253266711?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3904076910253266711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3904076910253266711' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3904076910253266711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3904076910253266711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/11/frt-guns.html' title='F@rt Guns'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1728642586947080351</id><published>2011-10-22T23:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-22T23:08:55.542-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><title type='text'>Ohhhhh em geeeee</title><content type='html'>Mommy surprised me for my birthday weekend AND I'm posting from my NEW iPad. Officially the luckiest girl in the world. (we won't mention that I'm knocking on thirty's door.. Mmmmkay?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post details and the video of Mommy, BFF, and roomie pulling off the surprise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now? I'll be busy with my iPad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1728642586947080351?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1728642586947080351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1728642586947080351' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1728642586947080351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1728642586947080351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/10/ohhhhh-em-geeeee.html' title='Ohhhhh em geeeee'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4579106049902665283</id><published>2011-10-19T13:17:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T13:17:38.598-04:00</updated><title type='text'>...investment</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;I&amp;#39;m kind of sort of thinking I need to invest in a filter. A filter for my brain that goes all the way to my mouth. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Seriously, not a day goes by that I don&amp;#39;t think, &amp;quot;Quit sticking your foot in your mouth!&amp;quot;. I mean, it starts to get a little questionable when I realize that I may or may not have a direct impact on molding the minds of our youth. And, I&amp;#39;m pretty sure the little faces staring at me are pretty young and still quite impressionable. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Here&amp;#39;s the low-down...allow me to set the scene. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;We&amp;#39;re doing read aloud time when one of the boys asks if we can read the book about fire trucks and other emergency vehicles. Since I&amp;#39;m, without a doubt, the world&amp;#39;s best teacher, I immediately shouted, &amp;quot;I can&amp;#39;t wait to hear all about fire trucks! I know we&amp;#39;re going to learn so much reading this book.&amp;quot; yada, yada, yada. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;As we&amp;#39;re reading along, one of the boys remarks, &amp;quot;That truck looks a lot like a po-lease car. They both got lights on top.&amp;quot; Ah, we&amp;#39;re making connections to the text. Good readers make connections. I have taught them something! I&amp;#39;m so pleased. I&amp;#39;ll follow up and see what else they know about these types of emergency vehicles. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;Fire trucks and po-lease cars can run red lights and stop signs because they have to get to there quick!&amp;quot; (I SO wanted to correct his use of quick.. it totally should have been quickly because it&amp;#39;s an adverb, but I just couldn&amp;#39;t bring myself to correct him when we were learning so much!)&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;You&amp;#39;re right. Police cars and fire trucks drive quickly and run red lights and stop signs when it&amp;#39;s safe to do so. Did you know Ms. L had the opportunity to ride in a police car? The police car was going very fast and we ran a lot of red lights and stop signs. It was really neat!&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;I rode in a po-lease car. Did you go to jail, too?&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Wait. Hold up. Crap. Oh no. What have I done? I just admitted to these little boys that I rode in a police car. Normally people only ride in a police car if they are under arrest, you know under lock and key with handcuffs on. &lt;em&gt;Oi. This isn&amp;#39;t looking good for my teacher of the year award. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I then had to back track and explain that I have a friend who is a police officer and I rode in his car (is it your boyfriend?!) when he was working and we went to a call that required him to turn on his lights and sirens. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;How much do you want to bet &lt;strong&gt;NONE&lt;/strong&gt; of them heard that and go home to tell their parents their teacher rode in a cop car because she was under arrest? &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4579106049902665283?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4579106049902665283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4579106049902665283' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4579106049902665283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4579106049902665283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/10/investment.html' title='...investment'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-931783305041361954</id><published>2011-10-13T15:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-13T15:34:58.289-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Have you seen them?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I may have lost my marbles. Quite literally. And figuratively. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Literally? Well, roomie handed me two red marbles and said, &amp;quot;I wanted to return these to you. Nahla (her dog) was chewing on them. I&amp;#39;m so sorry, I&amp;#39;m not sure when she got them, but here they are.&amp;quot; I stared blankly. Continued to stare blankly. She then replied, &amp;quot;They are yours, right? They aren&amp;#39;t mine. So they have to be yours.&amp;quot; Blank stare. &amp;quot;Uh.. I have no idea what those are or where they came from. They aren&amp;#39;t mine.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Fast forward a week...&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The roommate walks in and says, &amp;quot;Hey L, I found some more of those marbles. This time Zoey was eating them. Are you sure they aren&amp;#39;t yours? Zoey was chewing on them in your bed. And last week when Nahla had them, she came from your room.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I&amp;#39;m &lt;strong&gt;positive&lt;/strong&gt; they aren&amp;#39;t mine. But they keep coming from &lt;strong&gt;my&lt;/strong&gt; room. And I have no idea where the dogs could have found these marbles. Seriously, nothing in my life has marbles in it. It&amp;#39;s not like there&amp;#39;s some decoration with marbles. Or a toy with marbles. But, the dogs keep finding marbles in my room. I think they are doing it to torture me. &lt;em&gt;It&amp;#39;s working.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Figuratively? &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Well.. work is a big ball of stress. My kiddos are having a hard time with the addition of our new old friend. As a result, I only get &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;approximately .08% of the teaching done I should be doing. And I spend a lot of time sighing, banging my head, and cursing inside my brain. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Yup. That&amp;#39;s how we roll around here. Marbles are everywhere!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-931783305041361954?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/931783305041361954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=931783305041361954' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/931783305041361954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/931783305041361954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/10/have-you-seen-them.html' title='Have you seen them?'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1968268272227748765</id><published>2011-10-07T15:37:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T15:37:40.116-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll take my nominations now..</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p7i-Ah7MKuQ/To9VBCb9b7I/AAAAAAAAAj0/Y2m-0ybZ7fI/s1600/math-760117.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p7i-Ah7MKuQ/To9VBCb9b7I/AAAAAAAAAj0/Y2m-0ybZ7fI/s320/math-760117.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660836732950376370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know, for teacher of the year. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I had a bit of a, uhm, slip of the tongue. Err.. chalk. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;We were doing doubles and I had a great story about twins who have everything the same, including the same number of toys. So I was drawing a picture to show them holding their toys. Unfortunately, the picture wasn&amp;#39;t quite anatomically correct in terms of the toy holding. It wasn&amp;#39;t until I began counting (placing the dots in the center) that I realized what I had done. My assistant was laughing so hard he was crying. You know, because I drew flippin&amp;#39; boobs on stick people and made them &lt;em&gt;almost &lt;/em&gt;anatomically correct. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Dear Lord, please tell me when I&amp;#39;ll stop sticking my foot in my mouth while teaching. Or is this all I have to look forward to? &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;At least it provides a laugh.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1968268272227748765?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1968268272227748765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1968268272227748765' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1968268272227748765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1968268272227748765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/10/ill-take-my-nominations-now.html' title='I&apos;ll take my nominations now..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p7i-Ah7MKuQ/To9VBCb9b7I/AAAAAAAAAj0/Y2m-0ybZ7fI/s72-c/math-760117.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4162898433904100169</id><published>2011-10-04T13:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T14:01:56.391-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Whoa.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I just said &amp;quot;fat chance&amp;quot; in a large room full of my peers, and some professionals who are higher up. Much higher up.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My bad.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4162898433904100169?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4162898433904100169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4162898433904100169' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4162898433904100169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4162898433904100169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/10/whoa.html' title='Whoa.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1253673691696279862</id><published>2011-10-04T13:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T13:52:23.154-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tales of a 10 Year Reunion..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I think I might have thrown up a bit in my mouth. I mean, no chance I am old enough to have just &lt;em&gt;survived&lt;/em&gt; my 10 year reunion. Stop the presses, you might all be able to figure out how old I am. Don&amp;#39;t you dare judge me.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Moving along. You know, to the meat and potatoes of this post. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So.. you know how everyone is thinking and looking to find who has gained the most weight... is the most successful... who fell from grace.. etc. Never fear. I&amp;#39;m the fattest. Nice, huh? Yup, skinny girl went off and ate everything she could put her fingers on for the last 10 years, making her gain approximately 987 pounds. Making her the fattest at her 10 year reunion. Nice. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Oh, and let&amp;#39;s not forget..everyone was all like, &amp;quot;Oh! You&amp;#39;re divorced?&amp;quot; Yup. My husband went off and left me. Probably because I ate too much. Props to the friend who couldn&amp;#39;t believe that any many on the face of the earth would leave a woman like me. He&amp;#39;s now officially my hero. Too bad he&amp;#39;s getting married. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I got the pity vote, too. My dad just died. Booyah! Bonus points for me. I&amp;#39;m the fat, divorced, half orphaned girl. &lt;em&gt;Sweet.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;In all seriousness (yes, I&amp;#39;m capable of being serious!) I had a great time. I saw some faces I haven&amp;#39;t seen in 10 years (minus pictures on facebook, of course. Which totally made it difficult because you kinda sorta knew what everyone was up to via facebook stalking, pictures, and status updates) and oddly enough, the majority of the crew wasn&amp;#39;t my crew from high school, which was totally cool.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;We chatted, had a few adult beverages, sang karaoke (not me!), and had many laughs. We brought up old memories, while making new ones. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Totally cool. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;And please let me know why I have like 72 instances of using parenthesis? &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1253673691696279862?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1253673691696279862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1253673691696279862' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1253673691696279862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1253673691696279862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/10/tales-of-10-year-reunion.html' title='Tales of a 10 Year Reunion..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4522471304689785900</id><published>2011-09-30T13:47:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-30T13:47:18.709-04:00</updated><title type='text'>F@rt</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Lil Big Man: &amp;quot;fart, fart, fart, you smell like a fart. I&amp;#39;m going to fart. Pffffft. Excuse me I just FARTED!&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me: &amp;quot;Please do not say the word fart again. If you say that word again, you will not earn your points and you will have to move your clip.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;{approximately 5 minutes later....}&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me:&amp;quot;Boys! Hustle over and meet me at the FARTboard. OOPS! Smart Board.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;All 3 boys: &amp;quot;awww! You just said the word!&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil Big Man: &amp;quot;Your clip needs to be moved.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I didn&amp;#39;t have the hear to break it to them that I do not have a clip AND I can say fart whenever I want.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Fart, fart, fart, fart, fart, fart, fart!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4522471304689785900?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4522471304689785900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4522471304689785900' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4522471304689785900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4522471304689785900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/09/frt.html' title='F@rt'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3794535621864251441</id><published>2011-09-26T19:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T19:32:59.861-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seriously'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blonde moment'/><title type='text'>I Hate Flying Things...</title><content type='html'>The roomie and I spent a relaxing Sunday pampering ourselves with mani's/pedi's and really good coffee. &lt;br /&gt;As we were leaving the nail salon, I spotted a snickers bar. Snickers bite sized, of course. But still snickers. And still ooey and gooey and caramel-y and chocolate-y and .. and.. well, you get the point. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was ripping open the elusive snickers bar, I ruined my nail. For the third time. (yes, I'm super impatient and/or spastic and always hit my nails on something or touch them too early and pow! it's ruined.) And the roomie was totally making fun of me for being spastic/impatient and was all, "Wow.. I can't believe you had to have your nails retouched 3 times because you can't just sit like a normal person and let them dry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth hurts.&lt;em&gt;Whatevs&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was plotting my revenge when all of a sudden a flippin' stink bug the size of Montana flew and landed on my hand. If you know anything about stink bugs, you know you can't squish them because they smell all kinds of gross. And they are totally prehistoric looking, so they look like they may be distant relatives&amp;nbsp;of triceratops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NnRfyXNVlLg/ToELeealMjI/AAAAAAAAAjs/tSoQo-TaayA/s1600/Desktop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NnRfyXNVlLg/ToELeealMjI/AAAAAAAAAjs/tSoQo-TaayA/s320/Desktop.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my head I'm all like, "WTF do I do?! I can't squish this thing because there will be bug guts all over my hand. And I can't move my fingers because the roomie will make fun of me and I'm out of the salon now so I can't even get this shiz fixed. CRAP!" Outside my head, I'm all like, "aaaaaaaaaaaaah!" and I blew on the darn thing and won't you know it wouldn't even move! It was like the spider man of stink bugs. Again, I'm all like, "aaaaaaaaaaah!" and blowing my brains out trying to get this thing to fly away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roommate? Laughing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me? Freaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stink bug? Likely laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally decided to flick my hand. Won't you know that thing stood there and took it! I finally gave one good blow and it didn't budge, but then jumped off my hand. &lt;em&gt;I totally showed that thing who is boss!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From there, we headed to the pet store to check out the prices on dog bones because when you have two dogs, it's like you go through bones in a hot second and all we ever do is spend $20 here and $20 there on stupid bones for the dogs. So we wanted them cheap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're just walking in when I see some 10 year old holding a freakin' gerbil in his hand and I'm all like, "Holy shiz! Drop that thing! It might bite you!" As I'm having a mental freak out, a bird begins squawking. We're talking screaming at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now would be a great time to time-out and remind you that I'm &lt;strong&gt;deathly&lt;/strong&gt; afraid of birds. I was attacked on multiple occasions growing up and I just can't handle them. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm having a mental freak out about the creepy crawly gerbil while this 10 year old is all but making out with it, when the bird screams bloody murder at me. You know what I did? I ran. I ran out of the bloody pet store because I'm a baby and I'm scared to death of birds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what that 10 year old did? He laughed at me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sucker. Wait 'til the gerbil poops on your hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Images: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://blog.webosaurs.com/tag/triceratops/"&gt;http://blog.webosaurs.com/tag/triceratops/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.arkadiapest.com/stink_bugs"&gt;http://www.arkadiapest.com/stink_bugs&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3794535621864251441?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3794535621864251441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3794535621864251441' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3794535621864251441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3794535621864251441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-hate-flying-things.html' title='I Hate Flying Things...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NnRfyXNVlLg/ToELeealMjI/AAAAAAAAAjs/tSoQo-TaayA/s72-c/Desktop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1684426141102442777</id><published>2011-09-24T21:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T21:06:19.540-04:00</updated><title type='text'>That was.....uh... Weird.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Today I was driving, minding my own business. I happened to glance in the rearview mirror and see a police cruiser at the light I just went through. I&amp;#39;m all like, &amp;quot;Crap! Was I following the rules?&amp;quot; And quickly realized that I was. No big deal. Right? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Wrong. The cruiser goes through the light and starts driving really fast right behind me. Then the lights go on. No chance it was for me, right? I was following the rules. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Wrong. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Then I look in the mirror again to see if, hopefully, I know the officer. You know because the bf is an officer and I know a bunch of his friends. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I then realize it is a face I know. In fact, I know the face really well. It was my freakin&amp;#39; boyfriend! I was pulled over by my boyfriend. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Needless to say, I got away without a ticket. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1684426141102442777?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1684426141102442777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1684426141102442777' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1684426141102442777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1684426141102442777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/09/that-wasuh-weird.html' title='That was.....uh... Weird.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3527400475506682115</id><published>2011-09-23T12:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T12:40:08.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Jealz.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I&amp;#39;m only in for a minute to make you all SUPER-jealous...&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Last night? The Boy and I had &amp;quot;date night&amp;quot;. It was his turn to make the plans (which I secretly LOVE because I have to make way too many decisions at work that.. well, by the time I get home, I can.not make a decision) and you know what he decided? &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="6"&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;Dinner &amp;amp;&lt;/font&gt; shopping!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="6"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Shut the front door, ya&amp;#39;ll. Shopping. Homeboy wanted to freakin&amp;#39; shop. Yes, please! Apparently he needed to get some socks and underoos and figured we could kill two birds with one stone, grab dinner at the mall, then grab his goods.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Here&amp;#39;s the kicker. He wanted me to join in the fun and knew my funds are, well, limited. So he gave me money and told me to buy myself something nice. CHA CHING!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Until.. he gave me a stipulation. It couldn&amp;#39;t be &lt;em&gt;black&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;white&lt;/em&gt;, or &lt;em&gt;gray&lt;/em&gt;. Apparently he thinks that&amp;#39;s all I wear. (Which is totally true, but whatevs.)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Ironically, I made it work. I bought some really great clothes that were out of my element and I&amp;#39;m planning on rockin&amp;#39; them in the near future. Pictures. Promise. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3527400475506682115?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3527400475506682115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3527400475506682115' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3527400475506682115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3527400475506682115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/09/jealz.html' title='Jealz.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4255187383269997694</id><published>2011-09-16T18:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T18:42:41.408-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seriously'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cranky pants'/><title type='text'>Moron.</title><content type='html'>Remember how I moved recently?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new address is all of one number off of my old address (with a totally different road name, town, and zip code...) and I effed up and typed the wrong address for the DMV when I changed it online. No biggie, right? WRONG. I didn't notice until AFTER I returned from the DMV to renew my driver's license.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The license I waited in line for an hour to get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one that cost me $30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one I literally got less than 3 hours prior to realizing my mistake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out they cost money to be replaced. And you can get a ticket for having an invalid driver's license.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make matters worse? I realized it as I was walking into the gyne*cologists office and was almost hit by a car because I was walking down aisle with my head down, paying no attention to the driver who was driving balls to the wall to make their appointment. Seriously. Who is that excited to go to the gyne*cologist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably the same person who pays $30 for a driver's license that is valid for 5 years with the WRONG address.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4255187383269997694?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4255187383269997694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4255187383269997694' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4255187383269997694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4255187383269997694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/09/moron.html' title='Moron.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3486721847234390580</id><published>2011-09-16T18:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T18:37:37.031-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='absence makes the heart grow fonder'/><title type='text'>Excuses, Excuses...</title><content type='html'>I'm super lame at blogging lately. In my defense, though, I am just getting back into the swing of things with school starting, a new place, a new roommate, a new dog (the roomie's dog), and grad classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, my day consists of waking up, going to school, staying late, coming home, watching the dogs engage in wrestle mania, yelling at the dogs, chatting with my roommate, doing schoolwork (either work or grad class), washing my face, going to bed. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few little funnies along the way, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Cena, Jr: "Ms. L! Why I gotta tell you these words all the time?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp; "So you can be a fabulous reader! These are words we see all the time when we read and we can't sound them out because they are rule breakers. So we're going to keep practicing to be all star readers!"&lt;br /&gt;JCJ: "Can't we just tell everyone I can read?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, Johnny Jr. we can't tell them that. It's actually my job to teach you. Even though you don't want to learn and tell me that on a semi-regular basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A past kiddo had the audacity to tell me, "My new teacher is my favorite teacher. You were just my longest teacher."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, excuse me buddy? I put up with your shenanigans for 3 years. I taught you to read. I taught you to actually be a decent human being. She's put up with you for like 32 seconds and she takes my reigning title? Kids. No respect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And... I may or may not have &lt;i&gt;accidentally&lt;/i&gt; tripped over the SMARTBoard (it has yet to be hung.. grrrr.) and fell flat on my face. My kiddos came to my rescue and were very concerned for my safety. They suggested we tell the principal it had to be hung up immediately so nobody else would get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My little cutie pie has started talking up a storm! He's normally non-verbal and while that was utterly obnoxious, it's difficult to discourage his talking even when he's interrupting me. He totally comes out with some funny stuff and is a little parrot. He's all bossy and shiz to my other kid and the other kid (who is approximately 89 times his size and 2 grades older) totally takes it. I have to hide my laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But thank goodness it's Friday. I need a break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3486721847234390580?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3486721847234390580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3486721847234390580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3486721847234390580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3486721847234390580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/09/excuses-excuses.html' title='Excuses, Excuses...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4128436095316050569</id><published>2011-09-09T12:23:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-09T12:23:07.724-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Homework &amp; Birds...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Little Man told me today, &amp;quot;I don&amp;#39;t have my homework because.. well, you&amp;#39;ll never believe this, but a bird ate it!&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Ummmm... excuse me?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;I was doing my homework on the patio and I went inside to go to the bathroom, when a bird swooped down and took my homework.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;But it&amp;#39;s been raining nonstop for the past three days, how were you doing your homework in the rain?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;I was using an umbrella.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Let me clear this up, you were doing your homework on the patio, under an umbrella, when you went inside and a bird swooped down and took your homework?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;Yup.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Riiiiight. And here I thought you might tell me your dog ate it.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;I don&amp;#39;t have a dog. Plus, a dog could get really sick if he ate paper.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;If I call your mom, will she say the same story?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;Nope. She was in the bathroom when it happened.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Sure. Right. I believe you. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4128436095316050569?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4128436095316050569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4128436095316050569' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4128436095316050569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4128436095316050569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/09/homework-birds.html' title='Homework &amp; Birds...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1835688747911425004</id><published>2011-09-07T08:13:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T08:13:43.497-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunshiney people</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;As most of you know, I just moved in with one of my girlfriends and we are totally digging our new pad. The pups get along famously and we spend most of our evenings giggling like little school girls. It&amp;#39;s seriously like being in college again, only I have responsibility now. That part stinks, but it also provides an income so I can do fun things like drink wine, get my toes done, and make trips to Tar-jay on a semi-regular basis.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The only downfall? She&amp;#39;s a morning person and I.am.not. I&amp;#39;m a peppy person approximately 80% of the time. Sure, we all have our moments but 6 AM is not one of mine. She&amp;#39;s all, &amp;quot;Good morning!&amp;quot; and I&amp;#39;m all, &amp;quot;Grrrr.&amp;quot; She&amp;#39;s all perky and making breakfast and coffee and I&amp;#39;m all, &amp;quot;Grrr. Give me 5 more minutes. Grrr.&amp;quot; &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I may or may not have had to sit her down and fill her in on my morning shenanigans. Talking to me before 7 AM and expecting a response other than a grunt just ain&amp;#39;t going to happen.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I laugh about it (after 7 AM, natch) because my dad used to say he couldn&amp;#39;t talk to me until after I showered, did my hair, and got my make up on. Which is almost 100% true, except on the weekends because I usually don&amp;#39;t get up and shower immediately. So that means it&amp;#39;s usually about an hour after I get up. And totally on my own terms.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So ladies.. how many of you are all peppy, perky, glowing rays of sunshine in the AM?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1835688747911425004?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1835688747911425004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1835688747911425004' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1835688747911425004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1835688747911425004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/09/sunshiney-people.html' title='Sunshiney people'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-8058010222667374329</id><published>2011-08-31T17:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T17:50:41.809-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bullet style'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dear mother nature you suck'/><title type='text'>Updates, etc.</title><content type='html'>Wow! So much has gone on so far this week. So, we're going bullet-style. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ya'll! I got a SMARTBOARD for my classroom. I'm so pumped. Thankfully I already know how to use it and I have some friends who gave me lots of tools to get me started. My goal is to do a vast majority of my teaching with it. Yay!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I moved in the middle of a hurricane. We're talking soggy boxes and all. The Boy was super generous and paid for movers, so I didn't get that wet. Those poor movers did, though. And, did you know they strapped on my dresser (drawers and all!) on their back and carried it up and down stairs? I was impressed. Movers definitely made it 100x easier. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mommy came to visit. Moving with Mommy made things 10x easier-- she helped box up, unpack, rearrange, and decorate. Aren't Mommies wonderful? &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We had two days off this week due to power outages (Thank you, Irene!) and I was not affected, so the two days off were fun-filled with the roomie.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Roomie has a puppy. Puppies are the devil. Of that I'm sure. Remind me why I thought this was a good idea?! For the love of everything holy, if I have to hear wrestle mania all evening, I'm might just jump off a cliff. Fortunately Zoey grows tired of the playing and whips the little pup into shape. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Speaking of whipping into shape, I just looked up and Zoey was...well... uh... riding the pup. &lt;em&gt;Oi vey. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Now I'm off to prepare lessons for tomorrow-- of course all of my plans have to be updated with the new addition to the classroom! &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-8058010222667374329?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/8058010222667374329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=8058010222667374329' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8058010222667374329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8058010222667374329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/08/updates-etc.html' title='Updates, etc.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-8377555718868476370</id><published>2011-08-28T16:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-28T16:04:59.540-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dear mother nature you suck'/><title type='text'>{Hurricane Irene}</title><content type='html'>Wow.. an earthquake and a hurricane in the same week? Phew. I'm exhausted. All that worrying, eating, and oh yeah! moving (in a hurricane!) has made me exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots to report about the aforementioned topics, but I think I have approximately 383 more boxes to unpack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll check in tomorrow! For now, we're all safe and moved in. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-8377555718868476370?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/8377555718868476370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=8377555718868476370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8377555718868476370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8377555718868476370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/08/hurricane-irene.html' title='{Hurricane Irene}'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-6156219334745232339</id><published>2011-08-25T18:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T18:04:01.463-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='everything i need to know about life i learned in kindergarten'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i think i&apos;m funny'/><title type='text'>Necessity is the Mother of all Inventions...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;What do you do when a student is expecting candles on his birthday cake and you &lt;strong&gt;know&lt;/strong&gt; the school rules explicitly state no fires in the school? Oh and it's about 5 minutes before you're beginning the birthday celebration that he's been talking about all.stinkin'.day?&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;You improvise, of course.&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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UzhAFLhRfKI/TlbFg8NZjjI/AAAAAAAAAjo/v7EfuWmTOE0/s1600/IMAG0157-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UzhAFLhRfKI/TlbFg8NZjjI/AAAAAAAAAjo/v7EfuWmTOE0/s320/IMAG0157-1.jpg" width="224" /&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;em&gt;Yeah.&lt;/em&gt; That's a birthday cake. With a &lt;a href="http://www.knex.com/"&gt;K'nex&lt;/a&gt; candle stick and an index card flame. &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;He totally dug it. "Blew" it out and everything.&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;I love when you can &lt;strike&gt;trick&lt;/strike&gt; teach kids a lesson in life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-6156219334745232339?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/6156219334745232339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=6156219334745232339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6156219334745232339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6156219334745232339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/08/necessity-is-mother-of-all-invention.html' title='Necessity is the Mother of all Inventions...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UzhAFLhRfKI/TlbFg8NZjjI/AAAAAAAAAjo/v7EfuWmTOE0/s72-c/IMAG0157-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3661200982943004370</id><published>2011-08-23T16:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T16:53:55.603-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first day jitters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='everything i need to know about life i learned in kindergarten'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shake shake it&apos;s an earthquake'/><title type='text'>First Day Jitters are More than just a Shake..</title><content type='html'>How about an earthquake on the first day? Nothing like getting the *jitters* out of the way early!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you haven't heard, an earthquake hit Mineral, VA which is about 90 miles from DC. We heard loud noises and began to shake around 1:50 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's just say... the emergency plans? They don't go quite right in an emergency and we certainly hadn't been prepared for what to do in an earthquake. We evacuated for about an hour, then were released to go back in. It made for quite an adventurous first day, that's for sure. Attempting to get kids to do any work after something like that is no small task. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to an uneventful second day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3661200982943004370?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3661200982943004370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3661200982943004370' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3661200982943004370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3661200982943004370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/08/first-day-jitters-are-more-than-just.html' title='First Day Jitters are More than just a Shake..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-2154308732709143723</id><published>2011-08-22T18:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T18:41:53.747-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meet the teacher'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teacher week'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='everything i need to know about life i learned in kindergarten'/><title type='text'>Meet the Teacher Monday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://imbloghoppin.blogspot.com/"&gt;Blog Hoppin'&lt;/a&gt; is hosting Teacher Week 2011! So hop on over and link up to tell us all a little about yourself!&lt;br /&gt;&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;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wZ5EccYQ8yE/TlLVwP_Yn5I/AAAAAAAAAjk/j_o0NekZypU/s1600/DSC00267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="207" qaa="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wZ5EccYQ8yE/TlLVwP_Yn5I/AAAAAAAAAjk/j_o0NekZypU/s320/DSC00267.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Boy and&amp;nbsp;me in Vegas &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A bit about me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids call me Ms. L, but you can call me Lori. I teach K-2 in a self-contained classroom for students with emotional impairments. This blog started out as an online diary and has sort of evolved into this mish mash of things, including my adventures in teaching. I'm hoping to add to it a bit and begin sharing ideas because I LOVE when all of my bloggy friends share their ideas. So I'm&amp;nbsp; not really a teacher blogger, but I'm a blogger that teaches. I hail from the Midwest (the best place in the US) and hope to someday end up back there. For now, you can find me in the metro DC area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How long have you been teaching?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my sixth year teaching! I can't even believe it. I started out doing special education resource (pull out/push in/co-teaching) for two years in the upper grades. When I first moved here, though, I did a long term sub job in my current school and I fell in love with the school and the elements of a self-contained classroom (it combines my passion for special education and all the perks of a general education classroom), so after two years I moved to my current position. I absolutely LOVE working with the little ones. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You might not know...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm obsessed with office supplies, specifically post-it notes and sharpies. I use them for EVERYTHING. I especially love a brand new package of post-its and sharpies. Especially a brand new fresh-tipped sharpie. In addition to my post-it note love, I also enjoy paper clips. Someone recently posted about a paper clip in the shape of Michigan. I begged and pleaded to get them to send me it... but they wouldn't. So I'm on the hunt for the mitten-shaped paper clip. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What are you looking most forward to this school year?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm... every year is so different, but I'm really looking forward to all of the growth in my kiddos. I know it's &lt;em&gt;so &lt;/em&gt;cliche. But this batch of little ones were only with me for a few months last year, so I'm really looking forward to seeing the growth they make after a full year in our program and with me. There is SO much growth academically and socially in K-2, so I'm excited to watch them blossom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What do you need to improve?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time management, for sure! I'm social by nature and I currently live alone, so I often find myself talking during my planning time instead of working. Naturally, that means I'm working late and on the weekends. Because I'm making a vow this year to live life a little more, I'm going to get my stuff done at work so I can take less home. I'm sure there has to be a happy medium!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also made a personal goal to live a clutter-free lifestyle. If I don't use it, it's gone. Thankfully my teaching assistant is on board (she made me throw out almost 4 trash cans full of STUFF) and will be gently reminding me to use it or get rid of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What teaching supplies can you *not* live without?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Post-it Notes, sharpies, and my Diet Pepsi. Seriously, they all three get me through the day. My heart also skips a beat for a box of brand new markers because I love writing in fun fonts and a new marker is always the best for that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Head on over to &lt;a href="http://imbloghoppin.blogspot.com/"&gt;Blog Hoppin'&lt;/a&gt; to link up!&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 class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-2154308732709143723?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/2154308732709143723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=2154308732709143723' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2154308732709143723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2154308732709143723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/08/meet-teacher-monday.html' title='Meet the Teacher Monday!'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wZ5EccYQ8yE/TlLVwP_Yn5I/AAAAAAAAAjk/j_o0NekZypU/s72-c/DSC00267.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-8806820903511137608</id><published>2011-08-21T20:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T20:41:30.640-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my ovaries are screaming to let them in on the fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='listy lou'/><title type='text'>{random}</title><content type='html'>So much is swirling in my mind, so that means you're stuck with bullets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Today is my last Sunday without the Sunday Blues. We have tomorrow off then we start back with kids on Tuesday. The next few weeks are going to be b.u.s.y. with school and moving. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mommy comes on Thursday. She's going to help with the move. While I'm glad she's coming, I'm sad we're going to be so busy while she's here.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have &lt;em&gt;the cutest&lt;/em&gt; niece in the entire world. Miss Stella is 6 months old and absolutely amazing. I may have spoiled her rotten this weekend. Her mom is the daughter of my &lt;a href="http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-other-mother.html"&gt;M.O.M.&lt;/a&gt;and she lives in DC, meaning I get to have slumber parties with her whenever I like. Her mommy loves it because I get to spoil her while she gets things done and Zoey loves it because she has a fenced in yard. I may or may not have taken two REALLY long naps with her cuddled up in my arms.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Having a beautiful niece means my ovaries scream almost every day about why they haven't had the chance to get in on the fun. While babies are totally cute and adorable, I'm not quite ready to be blessed with one. Some day, hopefully. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My cousin, S, just got engaged! This means lots of extra trips home and wedding planning galore. I'm so excited for her and I she has honored me with the title of maid of honor. Let's just pray she doesn't dress us in horrible dresses. I already warned her about the wrath of moi should she decide on something god awful. She's a pretty trendy lady, so I don't think I'll have to worry about that. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm moving in less than a week and I'm SO excited to have a town house with a roommate. Hello slumber parties, wine nights, and a built in dog sitter. It's been a while since I've lived with a roommate, so here's to hoping I remember how to be on my best behavior. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Off to catch up on my DVR and enjoy my last Sunday of the summer... What are YOU doing on this spectacular Sunday?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-8806820903511137608?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/8806820903511137608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=8806820903511137608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8806820903511137608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8806820903511137608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/08/random.html' title='{random}'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7707867389203512775</id><published>2011-08-19T17:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T17:26:58.064-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='back to school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='everything i need to know about life i learned in kindergarten'/><title type='text'>Back To School</title><content type='html'>I've been a busy little bee this week! Getting my classroom set up is always one of my favorite things to do. I love to see the potential in every nook and cranny. I love to dream about all of the learning that will be done in each of the areas. I also LOVE when everything is so neat and orderly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new assistant is super awesome. She is totally on board with my style and loves a neat room. I'm really thinking she's going to make me stick to my mantra of less clutter makes a happy classroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I have only two students. I know all of you teachers out there are drooling over this, but I'm actually getting a little nervous. I shouldn't utter these words, but.. what if I get bored? Two kids and two adults. It's a 1:1 ratio. Oi vey. Somehow I think my little one will keep me on my toes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Back to School!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7707867389203512775?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7707867389203512775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7707867389203512775' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7707867389203512775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7707867389203512775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/08/back-to-school.html' title='Back To School'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-9015550633392788803</id><published>2011-08-16T18:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T18:32:41.860-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i went and got my hair did'/><title type='text'>I know, I know..</title><content type='html'>I've been all sorts of MIA lately. I could offer up excuses, but they would be just that. Excuses. Let's just say I was off gallivanting and enjoying the last precious moments of summer before school started. I'll let you use your imagination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now? I'll be focused. I'm back to school which basically means I'll actually have something humorous to talk about, as opposed to blogging about Lil' Miss Zoey. I mean, she's cool and all. But... I doubt that's what you came here for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I've been away, I had a college pal visit, I traveled to Michigan (and fell in love all over again with Michigan summers), and began preparing myself for the school year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and? I perfected the faux braid courtesy of &lt;a href="http://adifferentshadeofgray.blogspot.com/2011/06/true-life-tuesday-im-addict.html"&gt;Caroline&lt;/a&gt;. I've rocked it every.single.day since stumbling upon her tutorial. A super easy AND cute new little do? Yes, please. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm totally going to get better about posting what I wear each week (mainly to keep myself accountable) and spicing things up a bit around here. However, that won't happen until after the big move. So, for the next few weeks, you'll have to use your imagination. Assume I'm wearing my signature black/gray/white or teal and I'm probably rockin' a faux braid and a pony. Cause that's how I roll.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-9015550633392788803?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/9015550633392788803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=9015550633392788803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/9015550633392788803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/9015550633392788803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-know-i-know.html' title='I know, I know..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-458732349173965205</id><published>2011-07-28T08:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-28T08:00:12.262-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I heart family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='awkward party of one'/><title type='text'>My Other Mother</title><content type='html'>aka: MOM &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.. I have another mother. Not in a "I have two mommies" kind of way. Except it kind of is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started about 11 years ago. I was dating my high school sweetheart. His mother is a wonderful woman. Being the wonderful woman that she was, she attended my high school sporting events and because of that she and my mom became fast friends. They were pretty good friends and vowed that no matter what happened between their children, they would still be friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then her son and I broke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were still friends. I hated her son. And her daughter (who hated me just as much, for the record!). But I still liked her. So she was a part of the family. When I grew up and moved away, my parents still joined her family on holidays, and she joined our family on vacations. &lt;em&gt;And I totally ended up liking her children again. In fact, her daughter moved to DC and I get to have sleepovers with her like we're in middle school. Except we're all grown up and responsible and shiz. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy and MOM remained best friends. They were there for each other through everything.. a divorce, a child's divorce, my grandmother falling ill, grandpa passing, and my dad passing. And plenty of happy times, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the dust settled after my dad passed away, Mommy just couldn't stand living alone (she had never done it, ladies. Can you imagine?!) and invited MOM to move in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my two mommies live together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I sound like a weirdo when I begin telling a story about my moms. People take that way differently than it's intended,. Then I feel all awkward because I'm all like, "No! My mom has a roommate. Er.. housemate. Her bestie. My dad died and she moved in.. wait, they're not lesbians. Not that there's anything wrong with lesbians, but they aren't lesbians. They are just roommates who happen to be best friends." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes for a really awkward convo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yes, I'm Lori and I have two mommies. You should totally be jealz because moms are the best and I have two of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-458732349173965205?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/458732349173965205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=458732349173965205' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/458732349173965205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/458732349173965205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-other-mother.html' title='My Other Mother'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1857379284074566760</id><published>2011-07-27T21:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T21:42:33.696-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the first time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='can we be bff pretty please'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='girl crush'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blog love'/><title type='text'>The First Time</title><content type='html'>The first time... It's super awkward. You don't really know how it's going to start or end. Butterflies are a'fluttering and your palms are sweaty. Words kind of escape you. Figuring out the right thing to say is tough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you feel better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I totally did it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I posted for the first time on a blog I've been stalking for quite some time. Her name is &lt;a href="http://www.vodkamom.com/"&gt;Vodka Mom.&lt;/a&gt; She's hilarious and has no idea that I stalk her. But I totally have a girl crush on her and have always wanted to comment, but never knew what to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I did it. And I felt better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1857379284074566760?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1857379284074566760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1857379284074566760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1857379284074566760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1857379284074566760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/first-time.html' title='The First Time'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7413196177932167071</id><published>2011-07-27T21:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T21:04:32.620-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I heart family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sometimes life isn&apos;t always rainbows and butterflies except when it is'/><title type='text'>{I heart good news}</title><content type='html'>Today started off a little rough... to the point that I was afraid I wasn't going to make it. Let's just say it's not always fun being the boss. Then I had a meeting with my team for next school year-- we're trying to get ahead of the game. That meeting was met with some resistance, some panic, and utter chaos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I headed home to clean. I'm expecting company this weekend-- a college pal that I haven't seen in 6 years. Man did we ever have some crazy times in college. Stories I'm sure we'll relive this weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the best part? I finalized the plans for my new place. Complete with a roommate that I &lt;em&gt;adore&lt;/em&gt;. I'm cutting my monthly rent by $150 plus splitting utilities. Can I get a woohoo? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, Mommy and I finalized plans for me to go home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she offered to come out to help me move. (I'll take another woohoo on that one! Mommy gets to visit &lt;strong&gt;and&lt;/strong&gt; I get help moving. Yes, please!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we figured out a way for my other mother (remind me to tell you about that..) to ride home with me on my trip back from Michigan. Meaning I have another passenger besides Zoey. You know, one who will actually talk back to me and engage in some conversation. That will make the 10 hour drive totally bearable. Plus, Zoey will get a lap to sit on that isn't in the driver's seat. (I'm sure the other drivers on the road will appreciate that one)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An all around good day, I'd say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus tomorrow is the last day of Summer School. Meaning my summer actually &lt;em&gt;starts&lt;/em&gt; tomorrow. For two weeks. But I'll take it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7413196177932167071?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7413196177932167071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7413196177932167071' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7413196177932167071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7413196177932167071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-heart-good-news.html' title='{I heart good news}'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5401990835279677814</id><published>2011-07-25T10:57:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T10:57:17.014-04:00</updated><title type='text'>{lacking}</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Someone has a case of the Monday&amp;#39;s. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I&amp;#39;ll give you one guess. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-5401990835279677814?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5401990835279677814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5401990835279677814' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5401990835279677814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5401990835279677814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/lacking.html' title='{lacking}'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1472302960312867600</id><published>2011-07-17T13:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T13:55:54.304-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New ink...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ogUPbUiu7sc/TiMiKwyqWXI/AAAAAAAAAjc/zeQTXDJk4wc/s1600/imagejpeg_2_6-754305.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ogUPbUiu7sc/TiMiKwyqWXI/AAAAAAAAAjc/zeQTXDJk4wc/s320/imagejpeg_2_6-754305.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630381527434680690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;New tattoo to honor my dad. His birthday in Roman numerals. The geranium was touched up and the h was added in honor of my grandma. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1472302960312867600?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1472302960312867600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1472302960312867600' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1472302960312867600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1472302960312867600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/new-ink.html' title='New ink...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ogUPbUiu7sc/TiMiKwyqWXI/AAAAAAAAAjc/zeQTXDJk4wc/s72-c/imagejpeg_2_6-754305.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7437700356555199264</id><published>2011-07-14T10:45:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T10:45:56.196-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Foul Mouth</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I pink puffy heart routines. Love them with a burning passion. (I mean, I pick out my outfit {jewelry included} the night before-- I&amp;#39;m a train wreck) My day goes smoothly because everything I do is in the same order. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My AM routine includes: alarm, Zoey outside, feed Zoey, shower, lay in bed and look at facebook, get up, blow-dry my hair, do my make up, do my hair, clothes on, take Zoey out to do her business, brush my teeth, grab my breakfast/lunch, out the door. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Since I dropped the little munchkin off to frolic with her friends, while I frolick with my family back in MI, my morning routine was sort of out of whack. And by sort of, I mean &lt;em&gt;really. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;You can imagine my surprise when I realized (halfway to work) that I &lt;strong&gt;forgot to brush my teeth. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seriously, Lori? Seriously. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thank goodness I carry a toothbrush and toothpaste in my purse. &lt;em&gt;Just in case. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7437700356555199264?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7437700356555199264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7437700356555199264' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7437700356555199264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7437700356555199264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/foul-mouth.html' title='Foul Mouth'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7348880649287029854</id><published>2011-07-14T10:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T10:25:57.801-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Proposal...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Before you go and get any ideas, I AM NOT in the market for being proposed to. In fact, it&amp;#39;s a non-issue at this point. The Boy and I are happy with things the way they are. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;With that being said, I&amp;#39;ve been watching way too much television this summer (that&amp;#39;s what happens when you work 1/2 days AND there&amp;#39;s a holiday weekend, plus you&amp;#39;re dog sitting kind of in the middle of nowhere) and much of that television included romantic comedies and &amp;quot;Say Yes to the Dress!&amp;quot;. So weddings are on the brain. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So I&amp;#39;ve been thinking about ironic and/or crazy proposals. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Let me preface this by saying, I have a warped sense of humor and some of these are not my idea of the perfect proposal, just sayin&amp;#39;.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;For the computer saavy bride-to-be...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;A facebook proposal that has status updates or comments that say Will. You. Marry. Me? Because we all know it ain&amp;#39;t true if it ain&amp;#39;t on facebook!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;For the wine lover...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;A wine tasting that has four bottles of wine and the labels are turned around. When the lady or gent turns the bottles around to see what the wine is, the words are printed on each bottle. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;And... that&amp;#39;s all I can think of. I&amp;#39;ll come up with more. Promise.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Until then? Send me some of yours! &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7348880649287029854?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7348880649287029854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7348880649287029854' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7348880649287029854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7348880649287029854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/perfect-proposal.html' title='Perfect Proposal...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5033686597788564599</id><published>2011-07-12T09:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T09:18:47.864-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde Moments...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The hair is usually assisted with some color every 3 months or so, but those roots? They&amp;#39;re deep. I follow in my mother&amp;#39;s footsteps for being a wee bit...er... how do I say this? Air-headed. Forgetful. Absent-minded. And certainly naive. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;You get the picture. I&amp;#39;m a bit of a flake &lt;em&gt;sometimes&lt;/em&gt;. It&amp;#39;s totally accidental and people still love me. Sometimes they think it&amp;#39;s rather endearing. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Let me give you some examples... lest you think I&amp;#39;m exaggerating. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;While dog sitting, I notice a rather unusual looking wooden &amp;quot;thing&amp;quot; in the yard. Being curious, I stuck my head right into the opening. BAM! Bird flew out. I hate birds. Deathly afraid of them. Screaming ensues.. &lt;em&gt;One may wonder, &amp;quot;Lori.. if you saw a wooden thing with a hole in the yard, wouldn&amp;#39;t you instantly assume birdhouse? I mean, really?!&amp;quot; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;While in Italy there was an old well in the winery. They casually mention they&amp;#39;ve been using the well for centuries. When nobody was looking, I touched it. Water went everywhere. I screamed. The Boy asked me why I touched it and I obviously answered, &amp;quot;Because I wanted to see if it worked!&amp;quot; He rolled his eyes and was all like, &amp;quot;Remember when they said they&amp;#39;ve been &lt;strong&gt;using &lt;/strong&gt;it for centuries? That means they still uses it and it still works!&amp;quot; Oops. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I&amp;#39;m noticing a trend. I&amp;#39;m curious as hell-o and it seems to get the best of me. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;And I scream. A lot. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I&amp;#39;m just like my mother. ::eye roll::&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-5033686597788564599?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5033686597788564599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5033686597788564599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5033686597788564599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5033686597788564599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/blonde-moments.html' title='Blonde Moments...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-8570879415233184465</id><published>2011-07-09T20:11:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T20:11:22.177-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay or nay?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLBwkQJo0iU/ThjuK-Br3TI/AAAAAAAAAjU/Q9bbN9wSNVE/s1600/IMAG0111-782178.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLBwkQJo0iU/ThjuK-Br3TI/AAAAAAAAAjU/Q9bbN9wSNVE/s320/IMAG0111-782178.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627509606615604530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Can I wear this hairstyle to work and still be taken seriously as the boss? Keep in mind, I&amp;#39;m a late twenties teacher in charge of 20 other teachers and assistants, most of whom are older than me. I have interaction with kids and parents, too. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Oh and at least two people have commented that I&amp;#39;m young. But, I assure you I&amp;#39;m pretty profesh when it comes to dealing with others and I know my stuff. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Thoughts? Cute, yes? But classy enough to play the part of boss? Help! &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-8570879415233184465?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/8570879415233184465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=8570879415233184465' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8570879415233184465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8570879415233184465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/yay-or-nay.html' title='Yay or nay?'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLBwkQJo0iU/ThjuK-Br3TI/AAAAAAAAAjU/Q9bbN9wSNVE/s72-c/IMAG0111-782178.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1989131744481982549</id><published>2011-07-05T12:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T12:50:50.829-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Peeing In Private is SO Overrated</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Or, why it&amp;#39;s so much fun to hang out with three needy dogs.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I&amp;#39;m a &amp;quot;pee with the door open kinda gal&amp;quot;. Zoey? She minds the boundaries, most of the time. Except, when she doesn&amp;#39;t and she&amp;#39;s all in my face, wagging her tail, &amp;quot;Mommy I must get some lovin&amp;#39; from you RIGHT now!&amp;quot; and I oblige because, let&amp;#39;s be real, she&amp;#39;s spoiled rotten.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Imagine my surprise when I&amp;#39;m dog/house sitting and rather than one needy little bugger, I have three. Not a problem, right? Wrong. I only have 2 hands. Oh and let&amp;#39;s remember, I&amp;#39;m trying to do my biz-naz. Let&amp;#39;s add in there a few nights of fireworks (two dogs are shaking and barking at every.single.firework) and a night of bad storms. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So, I&amp;#39;ve decided peeing in private is so &lt;strong&gt;overrated&lt;/strong&gt;. It&amp;#39;s way more fun to pee with three dogs watching me. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1989131744481982549?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1989131744481982549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1989131744481982549' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1989131744481982549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1989131744481982549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/07/peeing-in-private-is-so-overrated.html' title='Peeing In Private is SO Overrated'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3339387934100698655</id><published>2011-06-28T16:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T16:19:45.053-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='have a nice trip see you next fall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer school'/><title type='text'>Stateside</title><content type='html'>I'm back stateside and I'm exhausted. Our last day of travels involved 4 different modes of transportation all over the course of 24 hours. Add that to the jet lag and the beginning of summer school and you get pure exhaustion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So exhausted that I tripped UP the stairs today at work. Twice. I laughed really hard because, really, there is nothing funnier than someone tripping. Even if it's you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pictures and a recap... soon. Pinky swear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3339387934100698655?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3339387934100698655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3339387934100698655' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3339387934100698655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3339387934100698655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/06/stateside.html' title='Stateside'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5964048046939724691</id><published>2011-06-16T21:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-16T21:14:19.062-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><title type='text'>End of the Year Bliss...</title><content type='html'>School is out for the summer! Here's how I celebrated my first day of summer-- pedicure and Hooters. I know, a strange combination. One of the girls I went with to get my tootsies dolled up for Italy is pregnant and loves wings. Naturally Hooters was the answer! You should have seen the stares we got. Three ladies walking in to Hooters, without men. I loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next up? A trip to the board of education to pick up my IEP's for summer school and finish my last minute errands before leaving for ITALY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya'll! I'm going to be in Italy in two days. We're doing a whirlwind trip of Rome, Capri, and Venice. Complete with a catacomb/Vatican tour, swimming in the Mediterranean, and a Venetian sailboat cruise. Not only will I be in a beautiful place, I'm going with the Boy and a couple friend of ours. I love the wife we're going with, so I am certain it will be a great trip. I promise pictures upon my return!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-5964048046939724691?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5964048046939724691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5964048046939724691' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5964048046939724691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5964048046939724691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/06/end-of-year-bliss.html' title='End of the Year Bliss...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3740700593402711770</id><published>2011-06-10T09:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T09:59:25.843-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm still here... I promise.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Just having a hard time finding myself under this stress of the end of the school year. Seems I&amp;#39;m being pulled in a million directions during the day. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;On a brighter note, we&amp;#39;re taking the kids roller skating today. This should be a lot of fun. If nothing else, I&amp;#39;m sure a few chuckles because it&amp;#39;s always funny watching people fall. Even if they are children.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I&amp;#39;m going to hell, for sure.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3740700593402711770?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3740700593402711770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3740700593402711770' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3740700593402711770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3740700593402711770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/06/im-still-here-i-promise.html' title='I&apos;m still here... I promise.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-8263286177660341954</id><published>2011-06-01T20:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T20:37:41.673-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer school'/><title type='text'>Summertime....</title><content type='html'>Lil' Woman just posted &lt;a href="http://www.littlewomanlittlehome.com/2011/06/summertime-in-keystone-state.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; about her summertime plans, so I thought I'd join in the fun! (And, let's be honest... I'm dragging &lt;em&gt;you know what&lt;/em&gt; today, so I really lacked inspiration for le blog, so this works)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what's going on this summer in the land o' chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ajbkTtwQYF8/TebW41hYSxI/AAAAAAAAAjE/OPeaVAOJvLM/s1600/rome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ajbkTtwQYF8/TebW41hYSxI/AAAAAAAAAjE/OPeaVAOJvLM/s320/rome.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://architectureofrome.blog-hotel.com/2010/10/08/hello-world/"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rome, Italy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Well hello there, Trevi Fountain. I can't wait to see you again. The Boy and I are venturing to Italy with some of our favorite friends. We'll spend five days in Rome and three in Venice. I am SO excited to spend travel abroad again. I was lucky enough to study abroad and visited Rome on a college student's budget. This time I'll be doing it right!&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://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CVN1B8bmN78/TebZChndZAI/AAAAAAAAAjI/B-jBGoI-6aI/s1600/IMG_2267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CVN1B8bmN78/TebZChndZAI/AAAAAAAAAjI/B-jBGoI-6aI/s320/IMG_2267.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;(photo: mine)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Michigan&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;It won't be nearly as glamorous as Italy, but it will include lots of Mom time (which I desperately need) and cousin time. It will also include friend time. But mainly, I'll be in Michigan. Surrounded by friends and family who all have the same accent I do. The people who love me unconditionally. I'll also get a chance to see my puppy, Leila. And I'm CERTAIN it will involve the lake, or pool.&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://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yQJmXNdnSlk/TebaVek39OI/AAAAAAAAAjM/ULWOTIEb4a4/s1600/2010-08-29+09.43.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yQJmXNdnSlk/TebaVek39OI/AAAAAAAAAjM/ULWOTIEb4a4/s320/2010-08-29+09.43.14.jpg" t8="true" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;(photo: mine)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Preparing for Next Year...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Every teacher does it. We're getting a new reading program (Treasures? Anyone out there have any ideas for me?) so I want to get a leg up on planning my units and themes. Plus, it actually keeps me sane.&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;strong&gt;Other Various Adventures&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I don't have a lot planned and I'm okay with that. I have a few inservices planned, and I'll be working with our summer school program in an admin capacity. So I'll be busy for most of the month of July. Except on Fridays. Thank goodness. I do know I'll be kayaking at least once, in addition to white water tubing (Sara-- I'll miss you on this adventure!), and a wine tasting. &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;Not that I'm counting, but there are only 9 days left of school. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-8263286177660341954?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/8263286177660341954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=8263286177660341954' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8263286177660341954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8263286177660341954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/06/summertime.html' title='Summertime....'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ajbkTtwQYF8/TebW41hYSxI/AAAAAAAAAjE/OPeaVAOJvLM/s72-c/rome.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4063742262617101132</id><published>2011-05-24T13:03:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T13:03:58.896-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pants on the Ground</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;One of my little guys had his pants hanging down below his drawers today, so a classmate reminded him to pull up his pants before they fell to the ground.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;New Punk broke out into song, &amp;quot;Pants on the ground! Pants on the ground! You look like a fool with your pants on the ground!&amp;quot; courtesy of American Idol.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My, my. This is what I deal with.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4063742262617101132?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4063742262617101132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4063742262617101132' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4063742262617101132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4063742262617101132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/pants-on-ground.html' title='Pants on the Ground'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3060404285269042219</id><published>2011-05-19T11:11:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T11:11:28.155-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blah.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;It&amp;#39;s been raining for approximately 38 days straight.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;There are 20 days left of school.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;It&amp;#39;s only Thursday and I totally thought it was Friday.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Oh, and my kids are a hot mess.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Even I can&amp;#39;t fake it today...&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3060404285269042219?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3060404285269042219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3060404285269042219' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3060404285269042219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3060404285269042219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/blah.html' title='Blah.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5804439495412033383</id><published>2011-05-18T16:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T16:00:04.038-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whatever happens in vegas'/><title type='text'>Vegas Recap</title><content type='html'>I had really grand plans for this recap a few weeks ago. Then I looked at my pictures and realized The Boy and I take ridiculous pictures, both of one another and together. We really don't do anything normal. So of course our pictures aren't normal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of doing the really cute pictures (they are, um, limited) I'll do some of the outtakes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/-86fstthIP1I/TdMlxMexxNI/AAAAAAAAAis/scb3XlEb0ts/s1600/DSC00170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-86fstthIP1I/TdMlxMexxNI/AAAAAAAAAis/scb3XlEb0ts/s320/DSC00170.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Tubing on Lake Havasu. This isn't me, it's actually The Boy's mom. Yes, she's a 60 something woman tubing and having the time of her life. The Boy and I tubed after her, together. As in tandem. It was his first time. Big mistake. Tubing tandem for your first time is really tough and he did not do his part to keep us from tipping. Boo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PkFbxNs3N4A/TdMl8IMf52I/AAAAAAAAAiw/9QBXbuF4Nko/s1600/DSC00198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PkFbxNs3N4A/TdMl8IMf52I/AAAAAAAAAiw/9QBXbuF4Nko/s320/DSC00198.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;We drove to the Desert Bar. It's literally in the middle of nowhere. And it was closed. Ha. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1MOoYcytHv4/TdMmA2Rg35I/AAAAAAAAAi0/WzerMTwWEwI/s1600/DSC00213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1MOoYcytHv4/TdMmA2Rg35I/AAAAAAAAAi0/WzerMTwWEwI/s320/DSC00213.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;A "pit" stop at the Parker Dam. Yes, The Boy took this wonderful picture of me coming out of the outhouse. nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bEjrHY4VvDM/TdMmKxdkZ1I/AAAAAAAAAi4/RW1MjWBg698/s1600/DSC00239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bEjrHY4VvDM/TdMmKxdkZ1I/AAAAAAAAAi4/RW1MjWBg698/s320/DSC00239.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Prom Picture in front of the pretty pink crystals in some casino.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-exX2L9MHZ40/TdMmWJ8wVCI/AAAAAAAAAi8/nE9fODminzY/s1600/DSC00263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-exX2L9MHZ40/TdMmWJ8wVCI/AAAAAAAAAi8/nE9fODminzY/s320/DSC00263.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;The Boy's parents renewed their vows while we were there. His mom specifically stated, "No Elvis!" and sure enough.. he was there. He didn't marry them, but it was fun to see her freak.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZYQCVY3bIZ4/TdMme9ziy7I/AAAAAAAAAjA/uqOS-6Dmy_g/s1600/DSC00267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="207" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZYQCVY3bIZ4/TdMme9ziy7I/AAAAAAAAAjA/uqOS-6Dmy_g/s320/DSC00267.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Waiting for the vow renewal. Yes, we're that cheesy. But &lt;em&gt;oh so adorable.&lt;/em&gt; Right? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-5804439495412033383?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5804439495412033383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5804439495412033383' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5804439495412033383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5804439495412033383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/vegas-recap.html' title='Vegas Recap'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-86fstthIP1I/TdMlxMexxNI/AAAAAAAAAis/scb3XlEb0ts/s72-c/DSC00170.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3137300939560830399</id><published>2011-05-17T21:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T21:42:49.081-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my life in pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='it&apos;s my life'/><title type='text'>My Life in Tattoos</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I was inspired by Heather over at &lt;a href="http://www.heatherhelvey.com/2009/11/my-life-in-tattoos.html"&gt;Live. Love.Laugh&lt;/a&gt; and then by &lt;a href="http://ugliesttattoos.failblog.org/"&gt;Fail Blog's Ugliest Tattoos&lt;/a&gt; to share my tattoos and the inspiration behind them.&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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9GxVhkDYr9w/TdMU43hUiwI/AAAAAAAAAik/w63o9HArQGs/s1600/DSC00277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9GxVhkDYr9w/TdMU43hUiwI/AAAAAAAAAik/w63o9HArQGs/s320/DSC00277.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Tattoo #1: Right Hip&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;{butterfly}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;. When I turned 18, two of my girlfriends and I went to get tattoos. We all wanted them in the same place, but ended up getting different colors and they got theirs on their left hip. It &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; pink and purple, but it's really faded. This is almost 10 years old. Wow!&lt;/div&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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qfdi4ALvNKs/TdMU1TwtVrI/AAAAAAAAAig/RdGc84oyUUY/s1600/DSC00276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qfdi4ALvNKs/TdMU1TwtVrI/AAAAAAAAAig/RdGc84oyUUY/s320/DSC00276.JPG" width="320" /&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;Tattoo #2/#3: Right Foot&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;{cursive L}&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;This was originally a black line cross, but I didn't like that it looked like a prison tattoo so I decided to spruce it up a bit. I covered it up with a cursive L for my first name. I love that it's small, but delicate and in a pretty neat location. I always think that I don't want my tattoos to show if I was in a wedding dress. This accents heels very nicely and looks great with sandals. &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;br /&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://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_zBv7Zu3JAE/TdMU7H5T9UI/AAAAAAAAAio/AS8PbRgD9fk/s1600/DSC00281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_zBv7Zu3JAE/TdMU7H5T9UI/AAAAAAAAAio/AS8PbRgD9fk/s320/DSC00281.JPG" width="240" /&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;Tattoo #4: Left rib cage&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;{geranium}&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;I have a few OCD tendencies and couldn't stand that my left side was bare. When I thought about what I wanted and where to get it, I was inspired by one of Rihanna's tattoos on her rib cage. The geranium is inspired by my grandfather. We used to travel to Mackinac Island in the summer and geraniums are all over the Grand Hotel. We used to talk about how lovely the red flower looked against the white hotel. He passed away 7 years ago and I knew I wanted to honor him in a meaningful way. This is my most recent tattoo, from 3 years ago.&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;br /&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;Because tattoos are addicting (just ask anyone who has one-- most of them will admit they want more) and because I have lost two other loved ones, I am planning on getting something in their honor. For my grandmother, I am thinking another geranium. But, I'm a little worried I'll look like I have a bouquet on my ribs. For my dad, I am going to get his birth date in roman numerals going down my rib cage. Again, I want something meaningful, but also want some balance. I think the masculinity of the roman numerals and the softness of the location will look very nice. And the vertical will look pretty cool going down my ribcage.&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;br /&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;What about you ladies out there? Are you tatted up? If so, please share!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3137300939560830399?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3137300939560830399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3137300939560830399' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3137300939560830399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3137300939560830399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-life-in-tattoos.html' title='My Life in Tattoos'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9GxVhkDYr9w/TdMU43hUiwI/AAAAAAAAAik/w63o9HArQGs/s72-c/DSC00277.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1739295863235357802</id><published>2011-05-16T18:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T18:49:09.527-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='everything i need to know about life i learned in first grade'/><title type='text'>Dedication</title><content type='html'>You know you're dedicated when you offer to take a child's pants home to re-stitch the seam in his pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Or you're tired of hearing his friends say, "You have a hole in your pants! I can see your under roos!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, on a completely related note... when you hear a child say, "My bottom hurts. My drawers are too tight." You might have a hard time hiding your laughter. Just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22 more days. I CAN do this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1739295863235357802?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1739295863235357802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1739295863235357802' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1739295863235357802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1739295863235357802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/dedication.html' title='Dedication'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5629680653082566506</id><published>2011-05-13T12:35:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T12:35:20.742-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh My..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Two of my little boys were playing Rapunzel at recess. They pretended they had long hair and everything.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Oh my. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-5629680653082566506?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5629680653082566506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5629680653082566506' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5629680653082566506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5629680653082566506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/oh-my.html' title='Oh My..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-958482904397320970</id><published>2011-05-12T18:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T12:36:23.079-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Faith</title><content type='html'>By Patrick Overton&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;p class="t1"&gt;When you walk to the edge of all the light you have &lt;br&gt;and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, &lt;br&gt;you must believe that one of two things will happen: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 70px;"&gt; There will be something solid for you to stand upon, &lt;br&gt;or, you will be taught how to fly &lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 70px;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-958482904397320970?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/958482904397320970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=958482904397320970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/958482904397320970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/958482904397320970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/faith.html' title='Faith'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1805100440121716377</id><published>2011-05-11T13:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T13:00:44.080-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Miss About Having 2 Functional Hands...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Or, Why You&amp;#39;re Stuck Listening (Reading?) to Me Whine....&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Typing? A tricky feat when you&amp;#39;re stuck with a piece of metal taped to your finger and then that finger taped to the one next to it.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Showering? Ha. Forget scrubbing your scalp. You&amp;#39;ll just be stuck hoping you don&amp;#39;t have greasy hair. You&amp;#39;ll also forget that you have a finger that is out of commission and begin to use it. Then you&amp;#39;ll scream in pain and pray that your neighbor doesn&amp;#39;t barge in to check to see if you&amp;#39;re okay. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Doing my hair? Again. A pain. I challenge you to try and put in a pony tail without the use of your ring and middle finger. Let me know how that goes for you. Mmmmmkay?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Using my middle finger. I can no longer flip the bird to those drivers that irritate me. I suppose that&amp;#39;s probably a bonus for them. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1805100440121716377?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1805100440121716377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1805100440121716377' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1805100440121716377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1805100440121716377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/things-i-miss-about-having-2-functional.html' title='Things I Miss About Having 2 Functional Hands...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5913793386587589359</id><published>2011-05-08T22:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T22:26:01.516-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='simple pleasures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sometimes it&apos;s the little things'/><title type='text'>It's the Simple Pleasures...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Everything is better in &lt;span style="color: magenta;"&gt;pink&lt;/span&gt; (and &lt;span style="color: lime;"&gt;green&lt;/span&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;Everything is better with polka dots.&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 we ALL know everything tastes better with a straw.&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;span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"&gt;Behold... the pink and green polka dot &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tervis.com/Main.aspx"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"&gt;Tervis Tumbler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"&gt; with a straw. &lt;/span&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://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ft_DtFsYdQ0/TcdPA5IkTUI/AAAAAAAAAic/4Ws7Vg3riq0/s1600/IMAG0088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ft_DtFsYdQ0/TcdPA5IkTUI/AAAAAAAAAic/4Ws7Vg3riq0/s320/IMAG0088.jpg" width="191" /&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;I'm &lt;em&gt;slightly&lt;/em&gt; obsessed. I may have already filled it twice. I think this is totally going to help with ensuring I a) drink more water and b) refrain from drinking full sugar pop, which will in turn help with losing some weight.&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;Yes, I'm going to try to lose weight. Since starting one of my medications I've gained approximately 18 pounds. It's amazing how fixing one problem creates a new one. So.. I've teamed up with Mommy Dearest and we're making a healthy competition out of it (I totally do better at anything that involves winning-- and we're not talking about "oh I won because I lost weight", we're talking prizes AND bragging rights) so hopefully that helps. Any healthy suggestions (besides eating healthy and exercising) would be greatly appreciated. &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;In addition to the kick arse Tervis Tumbler, I got a new duvet, towels, and some hangers. We're talking all matching hangers. Be still my heart...&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;What are YOUR simple pleasures?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-5913793386587589359?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5913793386587589359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5913793386587589359' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5913793386587589359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5913793386587589359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/its-simple-pleasures.html' title='It&apos;s the Simple Pleasures...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ft_DtFsYdQ0/TcdPA5IkTUI/AAAAAAAAAic/4Ws7Vg3riq0/s72-c/IMAG0088.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3601198537527421885</id><published>2011-05-01T18:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-01T18:26:37.639-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='football'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seriously'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oi vey'/><title type='text'>Oi Vey.</title><content type='html'>I meant to post vacay pictures tonight, but I broke my finger playing touch football. The hunt and peck method of typing is annoying, so I'm going to have to hold off on the vacation recap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're wondering, I didn't score the TD, but I did score one later. Broken finger and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; tough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3601198537527421885?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3601198537527421885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3601198537527421885' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3601198537527421885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3601198537527421885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/05/oi-vey.html' title='Oi Vey.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1535003682180232490</id><published>2011-04-29T14:12:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T14:12:01.459-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Update... List Style</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Okay, okay.. I&amp;#39;ve been MIA. My bad. I was finishing grad class and then went on vacay. I promise vacay recaps either this weekend or Monday. Depends what the weekend holds.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Updates/Things I&amp;#39;ve learned...&lt;/div&gt; &lt;ul&gt; &lt;li&gt;It&amp;#39;s no fun to seek shelter from a tornado with 20 students who are emotionally disturbed/ADHD/anxious. &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;Puking in an airplane bathroom? Not so fun. &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;Lake Havasu is really neat.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;The bridge built next to Hoover Dam? It&amp;#39;s tall. And causes panic attacks when you&amp;#39;re afraid of bridges.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;Kids who scream &amp;quot;F*ck You!&amp;quot; on the first day you meet them may put you through the ringer.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1535003682180232490?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1535003682180232490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1535003682180232490' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1535003682180232490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1535003682180232490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/04/update-list-style.html' title='Update... List Style'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3424564507334089701</id><published>2011-04-09T19:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T19:05:50.631-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday Fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Riding along with the boy tonight while he works... this should be interesting. He&amp;#39;s a police officer in a not so nice area. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Don&amp;#39;t worry, I warned my mom and updated my insurance policy.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3424564507334089701?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3424564507334089701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3424564507334089701' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3424564507334089701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3424564507334089701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/04/saturday-fun.html' title='Saturday Fun'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-8252134667328894383</id><published>2011-04-07T21:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T21:09:16.820-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i got chills they&apos;re multiplying'/><title type='text'>Chills...</title><content type='html'>Sometimes things in life have a funny way of working out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, as I was driving to grad class talking on the phone to my mom (don't tell anyone, it's against the law to drive without a hands free device.. and I totally was not rocking the bluetooth. Oops.) she was explaining the options for the headstone for my dad. We were discussing options, talking about what he would have wanted and what we wanted to celebrate his life. As we were doing so, my mom made mention to the Old English D for the Detroit Tigers or a lighthouse. Both were things my dad loved very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was driving right next to Baltimore-Washington International when a plane literally almost landed right in front of me. I *may* have screamed because I was afraid it was going to miss the runway and land on my head. Of course, it wasn't going to. I'm just a &lt;em&gt;little&lt;/em&gt; dramatic like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what almost landed on me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zZRMvNcrEVA/TZ5fF4BvqsI/AAAAAAAAAiY/5DABpyTAdck/s1600/ddq3kq9f_863hsbcqm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="124" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zZRMvNcrEVA/TZ5fF4BvqsI/AAAAAAAAAiY/5DABpyTAdck/s320/ddq3kq9f_863hsbcqm.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;(&lt;a href="http://www.theverifiabletruth.com/2007/03/official-airplane-of-detroit-tigers-red.html"&gt;source&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you look closely, near the tail/jet you will see the Old English D with the tiger in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call it fate, call it divine intervention, call it God... whatever it was, it was a sign. It sent chills through my entire body. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, Dad. We got the D. We wouldn't have done it any other way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-8252134667328894383?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/8252134667328894383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=8252134667328894383' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8252134667328894383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8252134667328894383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/04/chills.html' title='Chills...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zZRMvNcrEVA/TZ5fF4BvqsI/AAAAAAAAAiY/5DABpyTAdck/s72-c/ddq3kq9f_863hsbcqm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1696037506304926802</id><published>2011-04-05T20:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T20:46:55.737-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Foldables</title><content type='html'>I went to a fan-FREAKING-tastic workshop today about &lt;a href="http://www.dinah.com/"&gt;Dinah Zike's foldables&lt;/a&gt;. We're getting the Treasures reading program in the fall, and apparently it's loaded with foldables. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm SUPER excited to use more of these in the classroom. I already use some of them, but these were great reminders/refreshers about how to use them across all content areas and how to use them for assessments. I came across &lt;a href="http://www.fultonschools.org/k12/math/documents/FoldablesBook.pdf"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; website for foldables in math (it's free, go there... like now!) and you all know how crazy I am about math AND hands-on learning activities. I'm so pumped to add this to my repertoire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise I'll take some pictures this week of how I use them and I'll post them on here. Be on the look-out, Teacher Friends!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1696037506304926802?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1696037506304926802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1696037506304926802' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1696037506304926802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1696037506304926802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/04/foldables.html' title='Foldables'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4509285322163431018</id><published>2011-04-04T15:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T15:59:53.392-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Responsibility Sucks..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Instead of enjoying the 80 degree weather? I&amp;#39;ll be at school, doing grad work. Mainly because I know if I go home, I&amp;#39;ll get nothing done. So at least I&amp;#39;m being responsible, even though I don&amp;#39;t want to be.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;wah.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4509285322163431018?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4509285322163431018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4509285322163431018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4509285322163431018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4509285322163431018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/04/responsibility-sucks.html' title='Responsibility Sucks..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3079884679379584515</id><published>2011-03-31T20:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T20:29:18.915-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='an open letter to'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sometimes i make the dumbest choices and don&apos;t know why'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad classes'/><title type='text'>An Open Letter</title><content type='html'>Dear Grad Classes,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can go away anytime now. I'm tired of you and I just want to be done. Remember how we had a great relationship last semester? Well now that you've doubled, I kind of hate you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;ME&lt;br /&gt;_________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Self,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never take two grad classes at once, ever again. I know you think it's a good idea {and, in theory, it is} but it's not practical. Especially in the spring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is your warning. Do it again and I'll have to hurt you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;ME&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3079884679379584515?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3079884679379584515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3079884679379584515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3079884679379584515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3079884679379584515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/open-letter.html' title='An Open Letter'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1814811224716178578</id><published>2011-03-30T14:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T14:28:59.489-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping my head above water...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Or maybe not.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I&amp;#39;m super-slammed at work, super-slammed with grad-classes, and I&amp;#39;m just an all around barrel o&amp;#39; fun {sarcasm}.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Two new friends joined the circus, so I&amp;#39;m up to 5. One Kindy friend, one firstie, and three second graders. That&amp;#39;s three grade levels. Which is 3x the stress, 3x the work, and 1/3 of the time to do all of my teaching in {because it&amp;#39;s split up among three grades}. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;But.. there is a silver lining. In 16 days I&amp;#39;m leaving for Lake Havasu/Las Vegas. Can I get an Amen?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1814811224716178578?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1814811224716178578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1814811224716178578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1814811224716178578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1814811224716178578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/keeping-my-head-above-water.html' title='Keeping my head above water...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-6316171918127575826</id><published>2011-03-28T11:51:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T11:51:47.514-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Indoor Recess...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Indoor recess is always a good time for overhearing snippets of conversation when those kiddos are in their element and think their teacher isn&amp;#39;t listening. (Word to the wise, kiddos. I&amp;#39;m actually listening MORE because this is when you normally get into lots of trouble)&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil&amp;#39; Miss Diva: &amp;quot;Who wants to play house with me?!&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil&amp;#39; Man: &amp;quot;I will. I&amp;#39;ll be the dad. What are you going to be?&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil&amp;#39; Miss Diva: &amp;quot;I&amp;#39;ll be the cat!&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil&amp;#39; Man: &amp;quot;Ugh. I don&amp;#39;t want to be the lonely old cat man. That&amp;#39;s dumb. Be like a dog. A dog is way more manly.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;__________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil&amp;#39; Miss Diva: &amp;quot;I&amp;#39;m having trouble with a FRRRRRRRRRRRiend!&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me: &amp;quot;Oh yeah? What&amp;#39;s that?&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil&amp;#39; Miss Diva: &amp;quot;He knocked down my stupid dog house!&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil&amp;#39; Man: &amp;quot;I saw what happened. I don&amp;#39;t think Lil Big Man did it on purpose. I think Lil Big Man, the pretend dog did it. So, really.. it&amp;#39;s not a problem with a friend. It&amp;#39;s a problem with a make-believe dog.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me: &amp;quot;How can we solve this?&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil&amp;#39; Man: &amp;quot;Kill the dog?&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;__________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil&amp;#39; Man: &amp;quot;Wow! You have a weird belly button.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Lil Big Man: &amp;quot;It&amp;#39;s because I&amp;#39;m husky. Husky means big boned.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-6316171918127575826?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/6316171918127575826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=6316171918127575826' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6316171918127575826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6316171918127575826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/indoor-recess.html' title='Indoor Recess...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7345357846391942482</id><published>2011-03-22T18:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T18:42:31.161-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='overheard'/><title type='text'>Tae Kwon What?</title><content type='html'>Overheard today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know tae kwon do, so don't even think about messing with me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peer response: "Oh yeah? You know tae kwon do? Well I know&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;tae kwhoop your @$$!&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7345357846391942482?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7345357846391942482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7345357846391942482' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7345357846391942482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7345357846391942482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/tae-kwon-what.html' title='Tae Kwon What?'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5764042905651492937</id><published>2011-03-22T18:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T18:26:23.511-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tmi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='omg you said what'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facebook'/><title type='text'>OMFG TMI</title><content type='html'>Dears Facebook Users,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not care that you just checked in at the gynecologists office. In fact, you've painted a mental image that has been forever burned into my brain. Thanks. I'm seeing you, the gyno, and your legs spread wide open. Guh. Spare me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also do not care that your child threw up on you AND you had to change an explosive diaper. Again, the mental images are haunting me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is such a thing as Too Much Information (TMI) and you've totally crossed that line. I will never be able to read your status updates without wondering if the diarrhea came out of your pants. Or if the gyno saw anything weird like sparkles or fairies while looking at.. well, you know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please stop. Before my brain becomes mush and I realize I can't go a single day without wondering about your intimate secrets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks,&lt;br /&gt;Your ex facebok friend&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-5764042905651492937?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5764042905651492937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5764042905651492937' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5764042905651492937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5764042905651492937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/omfg-tmi.html' title='OMFG TMI'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-650029933127025014</id><published>2011-03-21T21:36:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T21:36:34.667-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Beware the Ides of March...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Omg. March can go away anytime now. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Gah. On top of the ticket for the toll, I also acquired a new kiddo, one more is on the way, I bumped the boys car in freaking downtown Baltimore, and locked myself out of my house. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Thank you blonde hair. Thank you.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-650029933127025014?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/650029933127025014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=650029933127025014' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/650029933127025014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/650029933127025014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/beware-ides-of-march.html' title='Beware the Ides of March...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5282656506542794036</id><published>2011-03-20T21:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T21:02:40.025-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion smashion'/><title type='text'>HELP!</title><content type='html'>Okay, Ladies. I need your help. It's a total fashion emergency. We're talking total emergency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to Italy this summer and it's going to be warm when we're wandering around, so I'm thinking a few cotton summer dresses. Plus, I'm totally vain. I'm going with a cutie patootie friend and she's going to be rocking the cute dresses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disappointment is not.an.option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.. where's your go-to for summer dresses? Think inexpensive. I'm working with a teacher's salary. On a budget. You know, to save for that vacation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-5282656506542794036?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5282656506542794036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5282656506542794036' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5282656506542794036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5282656506542794036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/help.html' title='HELP!'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-431475306840696113</id><published>2011-03-20T18:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T18:01:51.721-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blonde moment'/><title type='text'>Tolls? Psh.. Who Pays 'Em Anyway?</title><content type='html'>I may or may not have taken a wrong turn on my way back from the city today. Read: Baltimore. Said wrong turn resulted in taking the tunnel, which is, of course, with a fee. A toll. Crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess who NEVER carries cash? &lt;strong&gt;This girl.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the problem? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least the people in Baltimore are much nicer than those neighbors to the north, in PA. They totally were like, "Oh it happens all the time. Here's a ticket, call tomorrow and pay with your credit card! Drive safely." as opposed to the jerks in PA who made me pull over, wait for a manager to write up a darn ticket for me and then proceeded to tell me that I had to pay it with a check or money order. Um.. hello? Have you ever heard of plastic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this means I've been caught twice without cash at a toll plaza. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom mentioned something about having cash in my wallet &lt;em&gt;just in case&lt;/em&gt;. Where's the fun in that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-431475306840696113?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/431475306840696113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=431475306840696113' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/431475306840696113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/431475306840696113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/tolls-psh-who-pays-em-anyway.html' title='Tolls? Psh.. Who Pays &apos;Em Anyway?'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7532381554868653306</id><published>2011-03-17T10:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T10:29:50.459-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorting things Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;We&amp;#39;re doing a St. Patrick&amp;#39;s Day sorting/graphing activity with Lucky Charms (mom! I thought of you.. your favorite!) and I gave very few directions on how to complete it to let the kids figure out how they wanted to count them out. I&amp;#39;m so surprised to see each of them sorting in a different way.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;One friend sorted all of them and then counted and recorded. Another friend would pick out one marshmallow kind and count and record. Then another friend went in the order they were listed and counted and sorted. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;How cool! When we take away our demands, they come up with their own way to do it. None of which were the way I would have done it. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Maybe I am teaching them something!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7532381554868653306?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7532381554868653306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7532381554868653306' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7532381554868653306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7532381554868653306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/sorting-things-out.html' title='Sorting things Out'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4648028529307662033</id><published>2011-03-16T17:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T17:27:02.800-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life isn&apos;t always rainbows and butterflies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life kinda sucks sometimes'/><title type='text'>Realization..</title><content type='html'>I've been a little sad lately. Actually, a lot sad. I kind of thought maybe I was throwing a pity party for myself and trid to tell myself to get over it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until I realized (at the doctor, no less..) that my past year or so has been pretty poopy. In 13 months my husband left me, I watched my grandmother die, and my Dad died very suddenly and we were forced to make tough decisions regarding his life. It was one thing after another. And each one occurred just as I thought I was getting over the previous incident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's okay for me to be sad&lt;/em&gt;. It's okay for me to have a bad day. It's even okay for me to cry. Heck, it's expected. I don't have to be a robot and I don't have to be perfect. I just have to be &lt;strong&gt;me&lt;/strong&gt;. And if I'm sad, I'm allowed to be sad. I have to learn to be okay with my feelings and cut myself a little slack. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm sad. I'm sad I can't call my dad or get a hug from him. I'm sad I won't be able to watch him with his grandchildren (someday, not now obviously). And I'm really sad that my mom has to go through life without her best friend and her partner. All those things I'm sad about, she's sad about, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll get through this, absolutely. And we'll be stronger because of it. But for now, it's okay to be sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4648028529307662033?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4648028529307662033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4648028529307662033' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4648028529307662033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4648028529307662033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/realization.html' title='Realization..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-2930793874149872070</id><published>2011-03-03T10:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T10:58:59.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking News...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;This just in.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I just had toilet water on my hands. Toilet water from &lt;strong&gt;after&lt;/strong&gt; someone had done their business. Post-business toilet water from &lt;strong&gt;someone else&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; my job. I love &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; job. &lt;strong&gt;I love my &lt;em&gt;job&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. (insert tons of sarcasm, of course)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-2930793874149872070?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/2930793874149872070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=2930793874149872070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2930793874149872070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2930793874149872070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/breaking-news.html' title='Breaking News...'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3741077389312924797</id><published>2011-03-02T13:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-02T13:20:11.078-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guest Reader</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Me: &amp;quot;Boys and girls, today we will have a special guest reader, Ms. L&amp;#39;s friend, Officer K! He&amp;#39;s a real, live police officer. Isn&amp;#39;t that fun?&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Little Man: &amp;quot;Um, you have a friend who is a boy?&amp;quot; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me: &amp;quot;Yes, think of all my friends in school who are boys.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Little Man: &amp;quot;But it&amp;#39;s &lt;em&gt;different&lt;/em&gt;. He&amp;#39;s a man. You know what men do.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me:&amp;quot; Uh.. let&amp;#39;s talk about something different now. Thanks.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;And speaking of what men do.. I have a little one who reminds me of Al Bundy (from &lt;em&gt;Married with Children&lt;/em&gt;? Anyone remember?). Seriously, this kid picks his nose and flicks boogers all the time in the middle of my freakin&amp;#39; lessons. He burps and toots like it&amp;#39;s his job. He fans his toots and shouts things like, &amp;quot;Maaaaaaaan! That one smells horrible!&amp;quot; And today? I caught him picking his behind, with his hands in his pants. Sometimes he sits with his hands in his pants, too. It&amp;#39;s like watching a dirty old man.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Sweet Jesus, please save me. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3741077389312924797?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3741077389312924797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3741077389312924797' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3741077389312924797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3741077389312924797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/03/guest-reader.html' title='Guest Reader'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-451095542460482225</id><published>2011-02-28T21:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T21:43:09.902-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='you did what'/><title type='text'>Parenting 101</title><content type='html'>Parenting* (like any behavior modification/management) is all about follow through. If you're going to threaten it, you &lt;strong&gt;better&lt;/strong&gt; be able to actually live up to your threats. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is why I'm not questioning my neighbor tonight. She threatened to throw her 8 year old son out of her house if he didn't start acting right. And she did. For approximately 5 minutes, homeboy was pounding on the door telling her he'd straighten up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way to go, neighbor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You threatened, he challenged, you followed through. Nice work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you could only control his screaming at you at 9:30 at night when I'm trying to watch reality t.v., that would be greatly appreciated. Or convince my management company to do something about the thin walls..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I'm not a parenting expert, obviously. I just calls it like I sees it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-451095542460482225?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/451095542460482225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=451095542460482225' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/451095542460482225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/451095542460482225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/parenting-101.html' title='Parenting 101'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1316685165028234035</id><published>2011-02-27T16:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T16:02:57.389-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NYC'/><title type='text'>NYC</title><content type='html'>I'm finally coming down from my NYC high. Seriously, that place stole my heart. I wouldn't necessarily want to live there, but I did love visiting! Because I could give you a million details of the trip and I've been known to have the gift of gab, I'm going to do some pictures and give you a timeline of what we did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night, I arrived in late in the evening (after some delays, of course) looking as green as can be. Apparently the high winds and low altitude made for a bad mix for my tummy-- I was motion sick. I was so bad Jess even questioned my color. Got yelled at multiple times and genuinely wished I was back in the comfort of my own hometown. I was in so late that mommy was sleeping already. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up early Saturday morning to do this...&lt;br /&gt;&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="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cbk_VZEfIkU/TWqzjJB8KVI/AAAAAAAAAiA/1bsziln6FE4/s1600/_DSC0680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cbk_VZEfIkU/TWqzjJB8KVI/AAAAAAAAAiA/1bsziln6FE4/s320/_DSC0680.JPG" width="320" /&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;Flying trapeze school! It was simply amazing. It was scary, challenging, and breathtaking. I loved every second of it! I even ﻿had the opportunity to do a catch-- basically, the things you see in a circus. A man on a different trapeze grabs you from your trapeze, and you swing together. Pure awesome-sauce. &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="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FHT2INOgZgU/TWqz4yasjRI/AAAAAAAAAiE/3sF_yD4rTYc/s1600/_DSC0744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" l6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FHT2INOgZgU/TWqz4yasjRI/AAAAAAAAAiE/3sF_yD4rTYc/s320/_DSC0744.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Look at that! Amazing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday afternoon we wandered around, did some shopping and stopped by to check out the Statue of Liberty. I was super thrilled to see this. Jessica was, too.. but she was really cold. The winds were about 40-50 mph gusts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-HyZq_4eSMYQ/TWq0VRxq3RI/AAAAAAAAAiI/N1XL2MYxPLc/s1600/DSCN0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-HyZq_4eSMYQ/TWq0VRxq3RI/AAAAAAAAAiI/N1XL2MYxPLc/s320/DSCN0050.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;That evening we wandered some more around Little Italy and ate at an amazing Italian restaurant. I believe it was Il Palazzo. I had some gnocchi. mmmmm. I heart pasta. I followed it up with some cannoli's at &lt;a href="http://www.ferraracafe.com/nyc/"&gt;Ferrara's Cafe.&lt;/a&gt; Others enjoyed tarts, carrot cake, and chocolate cake. But I fell in love with cannoli's and what better place to enjoy them! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, Jess and I enjoyed some drinks at the hotel bar. We attempted to solve all the world's problems. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&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;Sunday morning, we wandered around looking for a breakfast place in Chinatown. Worst place to look for breakfast places. We found one, it was delish. It was not in Chinatown, though. We wandered some more, grabbed some scarves, jewelry, and purses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qUiydo46E9M/TWq7IJpUTdI/AAAAAAAAAiU/bOBtajkLRLo/s1600/DSCN0061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qUiydo46E9M/TWq7IJpUTdI/AAAAAAAAAiU/bOBtajkLRLo/s320/DSCN0061.JPG" width="320" /&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;Then we headed back to the hotel to get ready for...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://cheapticketsmonster.com/theater-tickets/musical-tickets/wicked-tour-tickets"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-GfEafkKKwew/TWq4FUPdUxI/AAAAAAAAAiM/IrIom9G9byY/s320/wicked0606.jpg" width="289" /&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;Amazing. Simply Amazing. Wicked, on Broadway. Holy Batman, ya'll! I love musicals... this was simply spectacular for me. We saw the understudies for both Glenda and Alphaba, but they were amazing and I would never have known they were second best. I cried during intermission because of a mix of emotions. My dad and I had a love for musicals and I would have totally called him to explain the story and totally purchased the cd to belt out with him in the car. It was heartbreaking to realize he was gone. &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;After Wicked, we headed to another Italian restaurant for after show drinks and dinner with Mom, Jess, Jess's Mom, Jess's Brother, Jess's Brother's girlfriend. It was delish, as I'm sure you can imagine. Jessica and I walked around Time's Square and then headed back to the hotel.&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;Monday morning we woke up early and headed to a small diner to have some breakfast before we made our way to the airport. We wandered around Washington Square, took some pictures, and enjoyed one another before parting ways. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oKf96rtBpn4/TWq660UFZMI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/Ew1Lwc1RdWs/s1600/DSCN0064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oKf96rtBpn4/TWq660UFZMI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/Ew1Lwc1RdWs/s320/DSCN0064.JPG" width="320" /&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 align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;It was then we had to venture back to grab our bags and make our way to the airport. We parted ways, I had even more delays, so did Mom and Jess's Mom, but we all made it home safely. With lots of memories of a wonderful weekend full of good food, good times, lots of laughs, and great friends.﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1316685165028234035?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1316685165028234035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1316685165028234035' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1316685165028234035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1316685165028234035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/nyc_27.html' title='NYC'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cbk_VZEfIkU/TWqzjJB8KVI/AAAAAAAAAiA/1bsziln6FE4/s72-c/_DSC0680.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1813943458602251651</id><published>2011-02-23T12:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:58:48.645-05:00</updated><title type='text'>NYC Recap, Coming Soon!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I can&amp;#39;t believe I didn&amp;#39;t let ya&amp;#39;ll know I was going to NYC! I suppose I was so wrapped up in grad school and babies (two friends of mine just had sweet little adorable &lt;em&gt;I-want-to-hug-you-and-kiss-you-and-love-you-until-forever&lt;/em&gt; babies) that I just kinda forgot to tell you all. It wasn&amp;#39;t because I wasn&amp;#39;t excited, it was simply because my brain can really only digest one thing at a time. &lt;em&gt;Thank you ADHD. Thank you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;And let me tell you (in my next post..) I LOVED NYC. I didn&amp;#39;t initially, but like any great romance, love blossomed and I fell head over heels in love with Manhattan and all that NYC has to offer. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Bliss.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1813943458602251651?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1813943458602251651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1813943458602251651' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1813943458602251651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1813943458602251651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/nyc-recap-coming-soon.html' title='NYC Recap, Coming Soon!'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-2900664671505120486</id><published>2011-02-19T17:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T17:05:15.328-05:00</updated><title type='text'>NYC</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IWzxym1qQ4/TWA-nOb6TdI/AAAAAAAAAh0/8_wYGFjlMyQ/s1600/IMAG0047-715329.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IWzxym1qQ4/TWA-nOb6TdI/AAAAAAAAAh0/8_wYGFjlMyQ/s320/IMAG0047-715329.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575525182295657938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is hilarious. Seriously. Your dog MUST be on a leash. But dogs aren&amp;#39;t allowed. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Which one is it? &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-2900664671505120486?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/2900664671505120486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=2900664671505120486' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2900664671505120486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2900664671505120486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/nyc.html' title='NYC'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IWzxym1qQ4/TWA-nOb6TdI/AAAAAAAAAh0/8_wYGFjlMyQ/s72-c/IMAG0047-715329.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-2638304268106125455</id><published>2011-02-17T13:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T13:55:46.522-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Como Say What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Overheard...&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;Yeah, Dude I totally put a picture of Ms. L on my Face-Tube. I bet you don&amp;#39;t even have a picture of her.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Face tube? Face tube? Obviously I didn&amp;#39;t correct him, but I laughed really hard. &lt;em&gt;On the inside. &lt;/em&gt;And how cool am I to be on his face tube? Seriously. I&amp;#39;m &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; cool.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Coming in from recess, the same little guy decided to give me vivid details of how warm he is....&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;quot;I&amp;#39;m so hot I&amp;#39;m sweating through my boxers. Now that&amp;#39;s HOT.&amp;quot; TMI Little Dude, TMI.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;On a different note, it is really warm here today. 65 degrees and I&amp;#39;m LOVING it. Except, the heat is still on in the school, so it&amp;#39;s like a sauna in my room. We will be going out to do some measurement activities because it&amp;#39;s beautiful outside and even I don&amp;#39;t want to be learning math. You know it&amp;#39;s bad when I don&amp;#39;t want to teach math. I&amp;#39;m a closet math-lover. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-2638304268106125455?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/2638304268106125455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=2638304268106125455' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2638304268106125455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2638304268106125455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/como-say-what.html' title='Como Say What?'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-347082618821085465</id><published>2011-02-15T13:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T13:08:53.835-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif"&gt;Wearing heels for outdoor recess when the ground is soggy? &lt;em&gt;Notsomuch a good idea.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif"&gt;Having a Valentine&amp;#39;s Party and a Birthday Party back to back? &lt;em&gt;Notsomuch a good idea.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif"&gt;Wearing heels two days in a row for outdoor recess when the ground is soggy? &lt;em&gt;A horrible idea.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif"&gt;Someday I&amp;#39;ll learn.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-347082618821085465?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/347082618821085465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=347082618821085465' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/347082618821085465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/347082618821085465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/oops.html' title='Oops.'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-2963399506916729034</id><published>2011-02-14T22:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T22:39:28.882-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='never have i ever'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wow that&apos;s strange'/><title type='text'>Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>Yes, I'm all about love. I'm a hopeless romantic. But this holiday sort of makes me want to vomit. I know, I know I said it before. But it's just a made up holiday. I'd much prefer gifts of any sort on one of the other 364 days in the year. Especially flowers. You just paid twice as much. I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not a total scrooge. I celebrate with my kiddos. I shower them with lovin' and I tell them just how special they are. I normally don't get any lovin' back because, well, my kids are special and they don't usually return the favor. I'm cool with that. Obviously, I don't do it for the money, or the gratitude. (I do it for the blog content, duh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except I got the best gift ever today. Little Man walked in and gave me a big hug and said, "I've waited allllllll year to tell you this-- I love you!" Keep in mind, I've had this kid for three years. He's never said this before. Ever. Not even close. He has more of a love/hate relationship with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, in the middle of a melt down about his bad choices, his ADHD kicked in and he remembered he forgot to tell me about the bus incident, "Someone was making bad choices and tried to pick a fight with me. I knew you wouldn't be happy with that choice, so I ignored him let the adult take care of it. Aren't you SO proud of me!?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES! Yes! yes! I've been working with him for 3 years on ignoring others' inappropriate behaviors and staying out of trouble. He loves trouble, so he can't stay out of it. And he did it. And he knew I'd be proud of him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-2963399506916729034?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/2963399506916729034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=2963399506916729034' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2963399506916729034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2963399506916729034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-9025518239741551562</id><published>2011-02-13T16:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T16:39:46.180-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tell me how you really feel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i can&apos;t believe she said that'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='true hate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reality tv'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><title type='text'>That Was Close..</title><content type='html'>Sorry I've been MIA, I was rather sick last week and then got wrapped up in the weekend. Now I'm doing everything I can to avoid homework/schoolwork, so here I am. But you're getting a list because I spent approximately 3.5 hours analyzing data for a huge meeting I have this week, so my brain is a little &lt;em&gt;mushy.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Being sick, sick is actually no fun. Being stuck in bed feeling like you were hit by a truck and getting ABSOLUTELY nothing accomplished in 48 hours really puts a damper on things. It's like I lost two days this week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My kids were good while I was absent, but they gave me huuuuuuuge hugs when I came back. Golly I love those munchkins. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The Boy gave me a really awesome surprise last week-- a flying lesson. This is really awesome because I would love to get my private pilots license one day. Flying has been a huge part of my life since I was little, so this is really awesome. The best part? It was a surprise for &lt;strong&gt;no&lt;/strong&gt; reason. Those are the &lt;strong&gt;best&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I'm watching &lt;em&gt;The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills&lt;/em&gt; reunion show? Wow, these ladies are fake. Like really fake. Plastic is oozing from them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Secretly? I kind of hate Valentine's Day. First of all, I hate hearts. Like hate them. When I was looking for wedding stuff, I vommed everytime I saw hearts. They make me sick to look at them. I also hate the idea of being forced to shower someone with affection. Gag me. Except, I love the idea of it in the classroom-- but I take the love part out of it and make it about friendship. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Ya'll! Big news! Be looking for a few changes around here. I'm in talks with miss &lt;a href="http://pinkloulou-confessionsofa20something.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pink Lou Lou&lt;/a&gt; to get a bloggy make over. She's been SO awesome to work with. I can't wait to see what she whips up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it. I must get some homework and school work done. Stat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-9025518239741551562?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/9025518239741551562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=9025518239741551562' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/9025518239741551562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/9025518239741551562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/that-was-close.html' title='That Was Close..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3075371130850246102</id><published>2011-02-06T21:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T21:45:10.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy of the year</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TU9ctyWuR2I/AAAAAAAAAhs/Mh2kTxaMrbo/s1600/IMAG0038-710691.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TU9ctyWuR2I/AAAAAAAAAhs/Mh2kTxaMrbo/s320/IMAG0038-710691.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570773205761541986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Little miss got her paws on this by getting it off the counter. Am I horrible for not taking it from her?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;It&amp;#39;s keeping her quiet and out of my hair.... Like a pacifier for a puppy. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3075371130850246102?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3075371130850246102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3075371130850246102' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3075371130850246102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3075371130850246102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/mommy-of-year.html' title='Mommy of the year'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TU9ctyWuR2I/AAAAAAAAAhs/Mh2kTxaMrbo/s72-c/IMAG0038-710691.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-6427346475961657751</id><published>2011-02-04T11:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T11:56:25.385-05:00</updated><title type='text'>overheard..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Little Man:&lt;/strong&gt; &amp;quot;Let&amp;#39;s play pretend house. You be the cat and I&amp;#39;ll be the owner.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Little Dude:&lt;/strong&gt; &amp;quot;Um, I can&amp;#39;t play with cats. My mom is allergic. It could like, kill her, if I play with cats and come home smelling like cats.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Little Man:&lt;/strong&gt; &amp;quot;But, we&amp;#39;re playing pretend. You aren&amp;#39;t really going to be a cat.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Little Dude:&lt;/strong&gt; &amp;quot;I just don&amp;#39;t think it&amp;#39;s a good idea.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Little Man:&lt;/strong&gt; &amp;quot;Fine, just be a dog.&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-6427346475961657751?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/6427346475961657751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=6427346475961657751' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6427346475961657751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/6427346475961657751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/overheard.html' title='overheard..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-2379729823477848015</id><published>2011-02-03T19:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T19:35:02.150-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='omg you said what'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i can&apos;t stand it when'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad classes'/><title type='text'>miscellaneous</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Just left grad class, so you're getting bullets today. And you will like it, mmmmmkay?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;One of my kids may have said that love is when you go hump. I needed further explanation, as I was a little unsure of what exactly he meant by hump. Apparently in his little speech delayed world, he meant bump. When your heart goes bump. Bump. Not hump. Thank god. I would hate having to explain why we don't use that word in school.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My professor says &lt;strong&gt;u-man&lt;/strong&gt; instead of &lt;strong&gt;human&lt;/strong&gt;. It drives me nuts.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Same professor also says &lt;strong&gt;perferred&lt;/strong&gt; instead of &lt;strong&gt;preferred&lt;/strong&gt;. Also drives me nuts.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Another cutie-patootie told me his bingo card had a lot of 3-ways on it. I couldn't help but chuckle. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a pseudo-new student joining me everyday for our language arts workshop. He's a big-little guy with autism and he's probably the most adorable kid I've ever met. He's full of questions and I can really see how we're going to get &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; off task quickly. I may love every second of it. He can tell you all of the hosts on &lt;em&gt;The View&lt;/em&gt; and refers to Elizabeth Hasselbeck as, "Last but not &lt;strong&gt;certainly&lt;/strong&gt; not least, Elizabeth Hasselbeck!" She's his favorite because, "She has blonde hair just like you, Ms. L." Apparently he has a thing for blondes. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He also disagrees with my use of adios as our dismissal cue. Apparently no teacher has ever used adios, and I shouldn't either. I was informed that I should change it immediately. I did not. And will not. He also informed me that he speaks English and all of my signs should be in English or he'll never understand &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt; I teach him. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I might be sort of head over heels for this little guy, in case you can't tell. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Now I'm off to go reflect on who I am as a person and life events that have predicted my future. Yes, I'm taking a personality development class and I'm sooooo not into my feelings these days. Ugh. Guess I better get in touch with them soon. Or be a really good bs'er. I'll let you decide which route I take.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-2379729823477848015?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/2379729823477848015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=2379729823477848015' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2379729823477848015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/2379729823477848015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/miscellaneous.html' title='miscellaneous'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-5800850644778026303</id><published>2011-02-02T20:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T20:12:35.897-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='q and a'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meet the teacher'/><title type='text'>Meet the Teacher!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Cara over at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thefirstgradeparade.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The First Grade Parade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt; is doing a Meet The Teacher linky party and I decided to join in the fun! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&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;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TUn7flr6EjI/AAAAAAAAAho/sJCsUEdG1Zg/s1600/IMG_1162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" s5="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TUn7flr6EjI/AAAAAAAAAho/sJCsUEdG1Zg/s320/IMG_1162.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That's me, Ms. L. But you can call me Lori because I'm not really your teacher and we can totally be BFF's like that. I'm a twenty-something teacher who loves reading, learning, doing anything nerdy, and my pupp-a-rooni, Zoey. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TUn6GwA0FNI/AAAAAAAAAhk/dltrTWEhUMI/s1600/picasabackground.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TUn6GwA0FNI/AAAAAAAAAhk/dltrTWEhUMI/s320/picasabackground.jpg" width="275" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The cutest pup, ever. End of story.﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've been teaching for 5 years (holy cow, where did time go?!). Two of those years were in resource/co-teaching in special education, grades 3 through 5,&amp;nbsp;and the past three years have been in self-contained with students with severe emotional/behavior disabilities. I teach in a primary classroom. Currently I have all 2nd graders, but it's my first time having only one grade level and I'm totally loving it!&amp;nbsp;My job is pretty ca-razy. Except this year it's been relatively sane. It's not unusual to have items being thrown while I'm teaching. Just sayin'. Not normal by any stretch of the imagination, but it's my life. Some people think that means I have the patience of a saint. But I really don't. At least not for most people. Just those under the age of 10 and with disabilities. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I graduated from Western Michigan University (Go Broncos!) with a BS (I just love saying BS.. I have a BS degree, ha!) in Special Education. I minored in Elementary Education, Math, and Science. I lived all of 10 miles from home while in college and never lived at home, but often came home for Sunday dinners and to do my laundry. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm currently working on my Master's in School Improvement/Leadership and I hope to one day become a principal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;And now on to the Q &amp;amp; A session:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: What would you be doing if you weren’t a teacher? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I would probably be doing something in HR, as that's what I did throughout college to make some extra money. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: What are your hobbies? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I enjoy cooking, reading, blogging, and shopping.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I wanted to be a teacher, then a lawyer, then a funeral director. Apparently everyone knew I was going to be a teacher because I was ALWAYS bossing the other kids around a daycare and forcing them to play school. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: What are your guilty pleasures? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Horrible reality t.v. including &lt;em&gt;The Bachelor, Keeping up with the Kardashians, &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;RW/RR Challenges. &lt;/em&gt;It's horrible. Honestly. I also love me some celebrity magazines. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: What is your biggest fear?! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Clowns, bridges, and emergencies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: When you’re on vacation, where do you like to go? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The beach. I love laying on the beach with a cold drink in hand!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: What’s the best advice you’ve ever received? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass... it's learning to dance in the rain. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I've been through a lot in the past year and a half and this quote has gotten me through some tough times. Life isn't about the destination, it's about the journey.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: What do you value most in others? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sincerity and work ethic. It's hard to take people seriously who don't work hard for what they have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: If you could choose one of your personality traits to pass down to your kids, what would it be? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is hard.. I suppose my enthusiasm for learning. That's lame, isn't it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Q: If you could have lunch with anyone in the world….living or dead…who would it be? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My Dad. I just want one more day with him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Now tell us one random thing about yourself:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have a nickname that only a select few people can call me, Re. When I was little I couldn't say Lori, so I referred to myself as Re-Re. It was eventually shortened to Re. My parents and my brother call me Re, along with two high school friends. Beyond that, I simply won't allow it. My dad used to always spell it wrong (with an I, Ri)&amp;nbsp;and I hated it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #311718; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, Trebuchet, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Now it’s time for YOU to join the party!!!!&amp;nbsp; Here’s what you need to do:&amp;nbsp; Write a post titled “Meet The Teacher”.&amp;nbsp; Start with a brief “biography” and then copy &amp;amp; paste the Q&amp;amp;A {using your answers, of course!}&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="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/3790178307450069125-5800850644778026303?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/5800850644778026303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=5800850644778026303' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5800850644778026303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/5800850644778026303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/meet-teacher.html' title='Meet the Teacher!'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TUn7flr6EjI/AAAAAAAAAho/sJCsUEdG1Zg/s72-c/IMG_1162.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1171572246102344739</id><published>2011-02-01T20:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T20:46:55.761-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='what did we do without internet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad classes'/><title type='text'>Master's Schmasters..</title><content type='html'>This semester just might be the death of me. I'm taking two classes. One of them is an online class. I thought it might be a little easier, I think I totally thought &lt;strong&gt;wrong.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's FULL of&amp;nbsp;online lectures,&amp;nbsp;deadlines, assignments, and the dreaded group work. Seriously, as soon as I get a syllabus I scan for those two words. Nothing kills my desire for learning like group work. I think it &lt;em&gt;might&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp; have something to do with my type A+ personality. And by A+, I totally mean I have to be in control at all times. I desire perfection. A 98% is unacceptable. 100% perfection. I love it when professors ask if they can use my assignment as an example. Yes, please. That's the highest form of flattery for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is why group work sucks. There's always a slacker in the bunch. Or, even worse, someone who thinks their idea is better than mine. Um, hello? Not happening. I refuse to let my grade rest in someone else's hands. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This class has 5 group projects. Not only are they group projects, they are online. Which means I can't even bully them in person to get their crap together. Ugh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm 5 classes (3 after this semester!) from getting my master's. I can do it. I &lt;strong&gt;will&lt;/strong&gt; do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just might become an internet bully in the meantime.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One bonus? I get to do my course work in my pj's, drinking a glass of wine, and cuddling with the little white dog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1171572246102344739?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1171572246102344739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1171572246102344739' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1171572246102344739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1171572246102344739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/02/masters-schmasters.html' title='Master&apos;s Schmasters..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4555032290013888159</id><published>2011-01-30T17:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T17:29:24.888-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids say the darndest things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i think you&apos;re exaggerating a bit'/><title type='text'>The 600 Pound Mother</title><content type='html'>Last week we were learning about polar bears. We read books, we played games, we researched important facts, etc. You know, all the cool things about Polar Bears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&lt;/strong&gt; "I can't believe a female Polar Bear can weigh almost 600 pounds! I better write that fact down so I don't forget."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Little Guy: &lt;/strong&gt;"My Mom weighs 600 pounds. Well, she lost 30 pounds so I guess she only weighs 570 pounds. But she used to be as big as a polar bear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure his mom would love to know that he thinks she weighs 600 pounds and used to be as big as a polar bear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4555032290013888159?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4555032290013888159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4555032290013888159' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4555032290013888159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4555032290013888159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/01/600-pound-mother.html' title='The 600 Pound Mother'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4337583636278877611</id><published>2011-01-24T22:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T22:38:19.504-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='that was a close one'/><title type='text'>The One Where She Almost Kills Herself..</title><content type='html'>I almost died tonight. Using a neti pot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently they don't work well when your nose is so clogged you can't breathe. The liquid went in the back of my throat, causing me to choke and subsequently inhale the special saline solution. I choked. A lot. I gagged. And I even threw up a bit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The throwing up part was when I knew I was alive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zoey would have saved me, right? I'm sure the lack of opposable thumbs wouldn't have mattered when it came to doing the Heimlich maneuver. She would have figured it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to self: unclog your nose &lt;em&gt;before&lt;/em&gt; doing the neti pot, or you could choke. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS-- blogger apparently doesn't recognize the word opposable. I had to google it to make sure I spelled it correctly. I outsmarted spell check. I'm &lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt; awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4337583636278877611?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4337583636278877611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4337583636278877611' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4337583636278877611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4337583636278877611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/01/one-where-she-almost-kills-herself.html' title='The One Where She Almost Kills Herself..'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3985995620511604272</id><published>2011-01-24T16:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T16:41:43.481-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='some might call me crazy'/><title type='text'>HELP!</title><content type='html'>I ordered a book from an amazon vendor and the book was described to be in very good condition. I took this to mean that it was, literally, in very good condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon receipt of the book I realized the edges were tattered and there was highlighting throughout. Am I just being too OCD or do you think I was misled? I don't normally complain, but I'm a little neurotic about the highlighting-- I don't mind it if I do it, or if it's neat, but this is different colored, and very sloppy. I did save about 50% by buying through this seller, but I just feel like I got duped. Thoughts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to leave negative feedback, but very good to mean means little use and no highlighting. I would have said it was in good condition AND noted the highlighting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELP!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3985995620511604272?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3985995620511604272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3985995620511604272' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3985995620511604272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3985995620511604272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/01/help.html' title='HELP!'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-7589419090664288469</id><published>2011-01-24T09:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T09:55:02.082-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Faking It</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;It&amp;#39;s really hard to fake it when you don&amp;#39;t feel well. Any of you teachers out there know exactly what I mean. We have to make it look like we care a lot more than we really do about little Johnny&amp;#39;s boo-boo, thus faking it. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;When you feel like you got run over by a semi? You just can&amp;#39;t fake it. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-7589419090664288469?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/7589419090664288469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=7589419090664288469' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7589419090664288469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/7589419090664288469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/01/faking-it.html' title='Faking It'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-8249688991740772236</id><published>2011-01-20T21:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T21:42:24.283-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life kinda sucks sometimes'/><title type='text'>broken</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I miss him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TTjxUUZRE4I/AAAAAAAAAhU/y05WTYXNKcM/s1600/IMG_1287-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TTjxUUZRE4I/AAAAAAAAAhU/y05WTYXNKcM/s320/IMG_1287-1.JPG" width="220" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TTjxhcAKkyI/AAAAAAAAAhY/67hdMsf4m-w/s1600/IMG_1165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="241" s5="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TTjxhcAKkyI/AAAAAAAAAhY/67hdMsf4m-w/s320/IMG_1165.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We'll never be &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Everyone says to hold on to the memories, but I feel like the memories are fading. I am having trouble remembering his laugh. I can't remember the last conversation I had with him. Our lives will never be the same without him. I can't hug my dad ever again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Mostly it just &lt;em&gt;hurts&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="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/3790178307450069125-8249688991740772236?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/8249688991740772236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=8249688991740772236' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8249688991740772236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/8249688991740772236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/01/broken.html' title='broken'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TTjxUUZRE4I/AAAAAAAAAhU/y05WTYXNKcM/s72-c/IMG_1287-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1015366520150964300</id><published>2011-01-20T18:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T18:10:07.458-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bachelor'/><title type='text'>Dear Bachelor Brad,</title><content type='html'>Dearest Brad.. I know I'm a little late on this, as I'm still catching up on my DVR, but you have to know that Michelle is crazy. Seriously, this girl is cah-razy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, why does it always have to be about her? Especially when she's just not right. Her birthday? Nobody cares. Stalking the other girls during their time with him? Get a life. The world does not revolve around Michelle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Lori&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1015366520150964300?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1015366520150964300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1015366520150964300' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1015366520150964300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1015366520150964300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/01/dear-bachelor-brad.html' title='Dear Bachelor Brad,'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1853566588408835424</id><published>2011-01-19T10:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T10:05:03.842-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Monday night&amp;#39;s forecast called for snow, freezing rain, and some sleet. Knowing that, I rocked the pj&amp;#39;s inside out. You know, to prepare for a snow day.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Not only did I rock the pj&amp;#39;s inside out, I committed. I rocked the &lt;em&gt;panties&lt;/em&gt; inside out. That&amp;#39;s dedication, folks. Ded-i-ca-tion. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Ah, the luxury of being a teacher. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Oh and the roads? Cleared by 10:30, meaning I was able to run errands and drive around. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-1853566588408835424?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/1853566588408835424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=1853566588408835424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1853566588408835424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/1853566588408835424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/01/snow-day_19.html' title='Snow Day'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-3082183075733005277</id><published>2011-01-14T21:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T21:31:51.599-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shop til you drop'/><title type='text'>Love/Hate</title><content type='html'>Dear Tar-jay,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why must we have a love/hate relationship?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I love you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wallet &lt;strong&gt;hates&lt;/strong&gt; you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could you please fix this? ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MMmmmmkaythanks,&lt;br /&gt;Lori&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-3082183075733005277?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/3082183075733005277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=3082183075733005277' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3082183075733005277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/3082183075733005277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/01/lovehate.html' title='Love/Hate'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4697365125319986972</id><published>2011-01-11T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T17:47:56.991-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='call me an artist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DIY'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='craft day'/><title type='text'>Snow Day?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Seems it was an "Ask and You Shall Receive" kind of day. Remember how I wished for the snow day? Well.. I sort of got it. Two hour early dismissal. The irony? It hasn't snowed a lick, yet. It's 5:45. We got out 2 hours early and it &lt;em&gt;didn't.even.snow.&lt;/em&gt; Ha!&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;So, what's a gal to do with a few extra hours on her hands? &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;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;Craft Day!&lt;/span&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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TSzcXwzzY-I/AAAAAAAAAhE/AdGIH5UphFE/s1600/IMAG0012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="191" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TSzcXwzzY-I/AAAAAAAAAhE/AdGIH5UphFE/s320/IMAG0012.jpg" width="320" /&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;Those are all the goods. All are made with pins to make cute little brooches. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TSzccuVD_FI/AAAAAAAAAhI/WqB59JxTFvo/s1600/IMAG0014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="191" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TSzccuVD_FI/AAAAAAAAAhI/WqB59JxTFvo/s320/IMAG0014.jpg" width="320" /&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;Close up of the "poppies". I kind of *adore* these.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And, I made them using hot glue. Not a stitch. Only fabric, hot glue, scissors, and a pin back. I rock. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TSzcfmtWyxI/AAAAAAAAAhM/1HUyj3vXFt0/s1600/IMAG0015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="191" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TSzcfmtWyxI/AAAAAAAAAhM/1HUyj3vXFt0/s320/IMAG0015.jpg" width="320" /&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;Cute little bows. I mean, everything is better with a bow. Can I get an Amen?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TSzcjMRie2I/AAAAAAAAAhQ/7AP-xITYQec/s1600/IMAG0017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="191" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TSzcjMRie2I/AAAAAAAAAhQ/7AP-xITYQec/s320/IMAG0017.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Little felt flowers. Swoon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with all of these.. but I did get a compliment on my homemade bow brooch today (that I made last night and didn't snap a pic of.. but it really wasn't that nice because the ribbon was a scrap piece, but whatevs) and someone did ask me to make one for them. So, perhaps I can gift them to my cutie co-workers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thoughts? Is that lame?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3790178307450069125-4697365125319986972?l=mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/feeds/4697365125319986972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3790178307450069125&amp;postID=4697365125319986972' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4697365125319986972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3790178307450069125/posts/default/4697365125319986972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mymidmidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/2011/01/snow-day.html' title='Snow Day?'/><author><name>Kids, Canines, and Chaos</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/S0PnggfgvzI/AAAAAAAAAWY/eobmPTGkCIA/S220/DSC_2133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eu_grYVXgpE/TSzcXwzzY-I/AAAAAAAAAhE/AdGIH5UphFE/s72-c/IMAG0012.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
