tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84014056544152048762024-02-19T05:36:20.812-05:00Baby AddictionThe Chronicles of a Baby-Addicted New Mother and Her Refusal to RehabilitateDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.comBlogger254125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-79401492763504199692009-12-22T15:30:00.004-05:002009-12-22T15:34:15.606-05:00Still Alive<div><div>Its been ages since I've updated my blog, so I suppose it might be nice if I notify the blogosphere every once in a while that I am still alive.</div><div></div><br /><div>School has been crushing me since I took 10 credit hours last semester and I'm still working full-time. Oh, and I'm still the parent of a toddler, too.<br /></div><div>Facebook also makes it incredibly easy to stay in touch with folks with simple one-line status updates, so I must admit that I've been feeling lazy lately.<br /></div><div>Here are some recent pics of the kid which I offer in atonement for my bloggy absence.</div><div></div><br /><div>Happy Holidays, everyone!<br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418161266779919186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieL7ADdj2Oml6g1P47Skz680Z3l8qp11x7d4nbcKf8-L67NBXEbz97pDbyzYCa2cdY3DLkckmn3tIZYAuBeE-pQhJyrULfXi7sp34M-EzZYW6zhaXM7GFQqcrA6zoth-rPpnqYv4pOei8/s400/IMG_1096.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418161406175906274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBmP831v7W3PZ5h80Rs4OVSY2B5zn5tY-oDrFtirFLj9H39a5LhPJ2jLl95ay1DxeHo3XOPZ3QSsOTO3bOU2sW-yIfxO2GMJoSFc5neDZQdvPHXQY8fmQkSyDEof8jXCe9psFtWW9ugrc/s400/IMG_1101.jpg" border="0" />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-36064713478402464822009-10-25T14:54:00.001-04:002009-10-25T14:55:43.859-04:00Household Politics<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsiUwMJBA6JGQBgJxR8llCLCAxb8HlxFRyxVa0wM6WMw7pzOpTp_ZCkWdOhl7jUD0FpjVndnQbjbg5BO0csQC8oJxiRU7dhgk9Ie6QpIyGSUhvySOBGd-y8LzI3HAYYHe7EvsVK6J8tSw/s1600-h/celtic-cross-william-burns.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396613239123686994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 162px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsiUwMJBA6JGQBgJxR8llCLCAxb8HlxFRyxVa0wM6WMw7pzOpTp_ZCkWdOhl7jUD0FpjVndnQbjbg5BO0csQC8oJxiRU7dhgk9Ie6QpIyGSUhvySOBGd-y8LzI3HAYYHe7EvsVK6J8tSw/s200/celtic-cross-william-burns.jpg" border="0" /></a> A normal day in our house resembles an Ultimate Fight Club tournament. The conflicts begin innocently enough…I make a simple request of my toddler, he refuses and a battle ensues.<br /><br />My husband is quick to blame our heritage. He is German and I am German and Irish. Obviously, Germans are notorious for their hot tempers and the Irish are considered to be a stubborn people. We try to do our part to perpetuate these stereotypes and my husband will be the first person to tell you that a stubborn woman with a hot temper is a load of fun to keep around. If that’s not enough fun for you, try hanging out with a toddler that has this personality.<br /><br />Hubby had a moment of enlightenment today after I spent over an hour trying to put the toddler down for his nap unsuccessfully. It’s the Irish in us that causes these conflicts.<br /><br />I’m the Catholic Irish of the household. Although I’d rather not fight, I’m fighting for what I think is right. I’m also just stubborn enough that I’ll fight as long as it takes to get my way.<br /><br />That means that David is the militant IRA Protestant Irish of the house. He loves to fight and he’ll fight to the death to win. So what if he has to blow himself up along the way?<br /><br />I think the solution to this constant conflict is to just follow in the footsteps of Ireland. When they find peace, we’ll just do whatever they did.<br /><br />Either that, or the boy will grow up and go to college.Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-58827371854295854472009-08-06T10:15:00.003-04:002009-08-06T10:17:23.408-04:00Duh!<div>The other day, David asked me<br /><br />“Momma, how many bingers you got?”<br /><br />I showed him my hand and told him, “I have 5 fingers. How many fingers do you have?<br /><br />After pondering this question and studying his hand deliberately, he exclaimed<br /><br />“All of them!”<br /><br />Duh, Mommy.</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366854652993891490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 207px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iw2YRU0LtZytH8jTgV4G8vJO_Gw5ZloyRNLHsfXUmi9o4oe84K92mr7eP7_DxxUe4KHzAF5Gt6c-FZKCsdJIqlSNY1ZT5bChQFOXFWGCt0KNggBfPwnW3c9ekMr6X3OHk7i7xPSWI_c/s320/Baby+Hand+in+Dad%27s_2.jpg" border="0" /></div>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-17166882991953863372009-07-15T09:43:00.002-04:002009-07-15T09:44:43.196-04:00Power Struggle<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswugf-pIemTFCUDyAHSFw9bLgovC4h9pzfPdbZYwEwV7sMybKnMjwPQMGNqnbSlkKzs9fJf__ZInz70TXAOjiDQPgkpRXywtb4tCDu3PE-zfeMxbJOyN_yMuK-Udnvv6SpvZtUpl49lg/s1600-h/Mothers.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358682305326419026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 221px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswugf-pIemTFCUDyAHSFw9bLgovC4h9pzfPdbZYwEwV7sMybKnMjwPQMGNqnbSlkKzs9fJf__ZInz70TXAOjiDQPgkpRXywtb4tCDu3PE-zfeMxbJOyN_yMuK-Udnvv6SpvZtUpl49lg/s320/Mothers.jpg" border="0" /></a> I know I’m a hypocrite because I abandon my blog for months at a time, then I suddenly reappear asking you for advice like I don’t realize that no one is reading this blog anymore because they got tired of patiently waiting for me to post something.<br /><br />I’m going to throw this out into the blog-o-sphere anyway because it is driving me crazy.<br /><br />It has recently come to my attention that my son is an evil dictator. He thinks he is the master of the house and I don’t think that is very cool.<br /><br />For instance, I was eating dinner last night and he told me to get out of my chair. For those of you that have never been to my house, my kitchen table has seating for six people and I was sitting in one chair. The evil dictator wanted me to abandon my dinner and relinquish my chair to him just because. I ignored him and let him scream.<br /><br />He seems to have this idea that Mommy is his meat puppet or his third arm.<br /><br />I was appalled to realize that my kid is uber-spoiled, but I was even more appalled to learn that evidently every friend, family member, and church acquaintance that we have has mentioned to my husband that our kid manipulates Mom. I’m not really feeling warm and fuzzy about this situation at all.<br /><br />I’ve started laying the smackdown, but I’m worried that my neighbors might start calling the cops because my kid has a nuclear meltdown every time I defy him.<br /><br />Any tips for making the transition of power a little less painful for the folks within a one mile radius of our house?Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-77584016586646883232009-06-03T14:21:00.006-04:002009-06-03T14:41:36.722-04:00Hibernation<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVUXFp09ScjdGr-dH7uOvyA_Ol9ZCkgg1mzzBCFLXG8ODJnn7-l-3P8mdwuavlUViBFWRO9aj-6Kp1GDh1Eya1ZQ5oBhxtazRTSMUkQ9qG-89J3DYzqCXnxCrTAYNSdegeT2Qzb7bWd0/s1600-h/David+&+Erica.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343173089222492082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVUXFp09ScjdGr-dH7uOvyA_Ol9ZCkgg1mzzBCFLXG8ODJnn7-l-3P8mdwuavlUViBFWRO9aj-6Kp1GDh1Eya1ZQ5oBhxtazRTSMUkQ9qG-89J3DYzqCXnxCrTAYNSdegeT2Qzb7bWd0/s200/David+%26+Erica.jpg" border="0" /></a> I feel like I have been in hibernation as far as blogging is concerned, but I have my reasons. Mostly, I've been afraid to write anything here because my stomach has been in knots with anticipation and anxiety.<br /><div></div><br /><div>My 14 year old bonus daughter, Skywalker, is very, very close to David. He absolutely adores her and I am thrilled that they have a valuable sibling relationship with each other. Since she moved farther away from us two years ago, the kids have really been struggling with visitation. They both cry when it is time for her to leave and they miss each other terribly.</div><div></div><br /><div>Skywalker is also very close to her dad. They have always shared a bond and she especially loves just being in the same room with him. I don't blame her, I love to hang out with him, too!</div><br /><div></div><div>As if this isn't cool enough, we have also grown very close over the years. I've been in her life since she was 4 years old, which is practically as far back as she can remember. I'm also closer in age to her than her parents, so I am cool by default.</div><br /><div></div><div>Since she loves us so much, she has been asking to live with us since she was 7 years old. The constant seperation has been painful for our family, but we've tried to make the best of the time that we do have together.</div><br /><div></div><div>Due to an unexpected turn of events, my husband recently filed for custody of her. I have been holding my breath as I anticipate an ugly court battle, but it appears that she will be coming to live with us after all!!! Her parents are negotiating the details and we should know for sure by early next week.</div><br /><div></div><div>HURRAY!!!!</div><br /><div></div><div>God is good.</div>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-40587786276844914302009-05-13T10:14:00.005-04:002009-05-13T10:18:21.027-04:00Swimsuit Update<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVne193urFR8Hb08piMfWgSyVA6b9N1FhuPyzwSgMZLTdYz7iFA_2u_u_ekl7t1E1062CqkKE-E4DwrWaJUS07dHmBAQRRetfFaJ9nojOK8dkWD8aZ0b5_juJdDGFJLklo5OMKfA0s7U/s1600-h/DSC03989.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335312507486253298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVne193urFR8Hb08piMfWgSyVA6b9N1FhuPyzwSgMZLTdYz7iFA_2u_u_ekl7t1E1062CqkKE-E4DwrWaJUS07dHmBAQRRetfFaJ9nojOK8dkWD8aZ0b5_juJdDGFJLklo5OMKfA0s7U/s200/DSC03989.JPG" border="0" /></a> In all seriousness, I need a new swimsuit for the summer season.<br /><br />In the past, I’ve been a big fan of the skirted tankini because I had a lot to hide. Now that I’ve lost some weight, I thought I might try on a one piece. I found an old suit of mine that has been in storage for years and it fit! I got brave and threw it in my pool bag last night when we went to the YMCA for family swim.<br /><br />Hubby’s first comment when he saw me come out of the locker room was, “Why did you decide to wear that?”<br /><br />My response was, “I DON’T KNOW??!!!???”<br /><br />I panicked thinking that I looked like a fat blob, but he later commented, “You look really good in that suit.”<br /><br />I was a little more confident after that compliment, but that moment of euphoria was shattered when I had a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Super_Bowl_XXXVIII_halftime_show_controversy">Janet-Jackson-Superbowl-Wardrobe-Malfunction </a>in the pool. Now I remember with shocking clarity why this particular swimsuit was in storage.<br /><br />The search is on for the perfect swimsuit and I’ll definitely be trying on some suits to get an idea of my size and the perfect style for me. Then, I’ll probably be checking out this <a href="http://www.swimsuitsforall.com/">incredibly awesome website </a>that I found. The prices are fantastic, there are coupon codes available, and best of all, the swimsuit models on this website look like REAL WOMEN.<br /><br />I love it!!Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-45614148692576617642009-05-06T12:54:00.003-04:002009-05-06T12:57:40.971-04:00Swimsuit Season<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEuFfSaWYUlnuGjIV99mfvdbEaPAxb0ugVc0yn_xUubMdp9QFxBQKxeS4iLqjH06Dld71YboeV-x2itZ65IIsVPKEIsxxw42v1sSdAciHIfNUCSAfdzhZqKzbb6S1JW_G7-d5sAQZPwQ/s1600-h/DSC03981.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332756025316304594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEuFfSaWYUlnuGjIV99mfvdbEaPAxb0ugVc0yn_xUubMdp9QFxBQKxeS4iLqjH06Dld71YboeV-x2itZ65IIsVPKEIsxxw42v1sSdAciHIfNUCSAfdzhZqKzbb6S1JW_G7-d5sAQZPwQ/s200/DSC03981.JPG" border="0" /></a> I just finalized our flight arrangements for our trip to Florida in June. We’re just visiting my Dad, but he has an in-ground pool and lives ten minutes away from the beach, so I’ll be spending more than my fair share of time in a swimsuit while we are there.<br /><br />The good news is that I’ve lost a total of 31 pounds since this time last year. The bad news is that I have another 15 pounds to lose before I’ll be entirely confident being seen in a swimsuit.<br /><br />Since my swimsuit from last season is obviously too big, I have to buy a new one. I’ve been researching the best swimsuit style for my body type and I’ve decide that this is the one:<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332755680561656114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBZ0Ei_G76fS67fER59cgOSVUH8FpzCQaX2JhkX3lKCI_2OmQSEIVEjzU1z_iC1nBJsja6PrevqI7ItHCdUf-TYjqDjO5qn5kwLKGznPJ-ZHL9dYucn0Zlr_lKpKAd4J-wA4I3U5TkQo/s320/wetsuit.jpg" border="0" />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-72755164672127888212009-05-05T14:55:00.003-04:002009-05-05T14:58:23.173-04:00Advice From A Cool Dude<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtC88mUgx6CEzI4OT-mrUQII314EQs4EIQTW247fOU2erjD7mCcbW0V9ahRwVme7tzQWfFF75STE2_wHyX868C3qYHLGO-qY6vTk03wHZt34UFjDBmaSI-I6ELso6Z8w6g8XyqgyTFpI/s1600-h/0320091857a.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332416052129915906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtC88mUgx6CEzI4OT-mrUQII314EQs4EIQTW247fOU2erjD7mCcbW0V9ahRwVme7tzQWfFF75STE2_wHyX868C3qYHLGO-qY6vTk03wHZt34UFjDBmaSI-I6ELso6Z8w6g8XyqgyTFpI/s200/0320091857a.jpg" border="0" /></a> Now that David is talking non-stop, I’ve realized that my cutie-pie has a lot on his mind. I thought I might share the best of our conversations so far this week:<br /><br />************<br /><br />David: (pointing to my scalp) “Mommy, keep it on.”<br /><br />Mommy: “Keep what on?”<br /><br />David: “Hair.”<br /><br />Mommy: “Keep my hair on?”<br /><br />David: “Yeah!”<br /><br />Daddy: “Is he poking fun at my receding hairline?”<br /><br />************<br /><br />Mommy: “David, are you a dude?”<br /><br />David: “No. I cool dude!”<br /><br />************<br /><br />Mommy: “David, if you take your motorcycle to school, you have to share it with Josh.”<br /><br />David: “No.”<br /><br />Mommy: “Then leave your motorcycle in the car.”<br /><br />David: “No.”<br /><br />Mommy: “Then you better be ready to share it with Josh.”<br /><br />David: “No. Josh go car.”<br /><br />***********<br /><br />To sum it all up, I’m getting Rogaine for Women for Mother’s Day and if I don’t want to share it with a friend, I should just leave my friend in the car. Of course, that’s what a cool dude would do.Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-25414248408463794732009-04-24T08:00:00.001-04:002009-04-24T21:37:23.240-04:00Happy 14th Birthday, Erica!My bonus-daughter will be thrilled to learn that I posted this very flattering photo of her on my blog in recognition of her birthday.<br /><br /><br />Isn't she adorable?!!?<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327957424974565394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOT-7_WojS_b2kaP6lUfgBeP1fGG5up0B81Tjk5cLkIoXAzteSACvaRAt_zEZuXox0lxcQWqH1BwMIkX_dt3RjwjMaDymN6oemyo-_q_vCUgjA4Y-CsDTzM5WCARyTWQR4d7CU8p52mhc/s400/IMG_0183.JPG" border="0" />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-90855365748142679982009-04-23T14:28:00.004-04:002009-04-23T14:34:08.240-04:00Random Thoughts<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_AVoqyQPoTPZ7png0jo8zHcPib6xyzBywixNmCEpSgAttq10f7p8mneDjozCfvsLPoTPP0e-fcwfyEMHVJsZwlKpXohX0G6EfZ_1mrz7G1CtGPCDVR_eG13c6Mq12fzPiKK1bgtJG18/s1600-h/Random+Thoughts.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327956925023555650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_AVoqyQPoTPZ7png0jo8zHcPib6xyzBywixNmCEpSgAttq10f7p8mneDjozCfvsLPoTPP0e-fcwfyEMHVJsZwlKpXohX0G6EfZ_1mrz7G1CtGPCDVR_eG13c6Mq12fzPiKK1bgtJG18/s200/Random+Thoughts.bmp" border="0" /></a> You would think that after vanishing from the blogosphere for about a month, I might feel compelled to explain my absence in a logical manner. Luckily for you, I am in denial regarding my compulsions, so you won’t be forced to read a post about the past month of my life.<br /><br />How about a post about my recent Random Thoughts instead?<br /><br />****************<br />It really sucks that I applied for a promotion and almost got it before they offered it to someone else because she knew someone that knew someone that knew someone that recommended her…even though I was better for the job.<br /><br />I’m still not over it.<br /><br />****************<br />I’ve lost 20 pounds since February. I feel fantastic and my clothes look humungous. I still have 10 pounds to lose and I know I just need to start exercising to reach my goal, but I am so tired…<br /><br />****************<br />We’re planning a family vacation to Florida in June to visit my Dad.<br /><br />***************<br />I won a gift certificate for house cleaning from Merry Maids last year as part of my Mom’s Makeover prize package. They won’t clean my house because I am not in their service area. This made me more than slightly irritated, so I sold the gift certificate on Ebay. I’ll use my auction earnings to buy more Windex.<br /><br />***************<br />Do me a favor and hire GrimeStoppers for all of your cleaning needs because the guy at Merry Maids is making me want to scream my head off.<br /><br />***************<br />Oh, yeah. Remember Little King David? He’s still alive and well. He is talking very clearly now and it’s thrilling to hear the things he has on his mind. His favorite phrase is, “Why not?”<br /><br />***************<br />Speaking of talking, David has a “potty mouth” friend at daycare. I’m glad his teacher thought to mention this to me because imagine my surprise when my two-year-old called me a B*TCH last night. Ouch!<br /><br />***************<br />My toddler has a cleaning compulsion. He has a fit if he isn’t allowed to use the vacuum cleaner or have a turn with the sponge while I’m scrubbing the tub. What kind of freaks raise a kid like that?!!?<br /><br />***************<br />Probably the same parents that send their kid to the ghetto daycare full of potty-mouth children.<br /><br />***************<br />Yesterday, I had the brilliant idea that it would be amusing to give my toddler a bottle of glue and a bucket of sequins. It might sound kind of messy, but my toddler has a cleaning compulsion, so his craft project kept him busy for an entire hour. He spent about 20 minutes gluing sequins on his art paper and 40 minutes sweeping up and picking up every single sequin that he accidentally scattered all over the kitchen floor.<br /><br />***************<br />I think that’s enough randomness for one day…Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-52591209489907902882009-04-21T08:40:00.006-04:002009-04-21T08:43:44.192-04:00Proof of Life<div><div><div>The baby addict is alive and well! Maybe I'll have something amusing to share soon, but in the meantime, enjoy these photos.</div><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327124400455135986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7tT6KdXNrVuBDh2svzwulujkYK-xYDYqew5-p4uHrG4QjhyNv2VM04l5gkTvZZYYOJa91TCJwIVcBcIRdcrfgPLaIZdse4YF_RKBChcQoI_65EtAPqcQQPlOT-7CB3kToQ6GVRYR5gE/s400/IMG_0154.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327124229083430066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77DQeHyfnkkEgkB5YQgsHtg2ulnpYYdIBOW3OsTdZxHhoXOyQ5igvnTMrC3YmF7lLVNYEhSxo5fTYUCwz7fmbes2mIJUgQv-PPYESFDUnTV4QDc2uEk2L4p44i_TjVnjjMvWyhCJ1Buk/s400/IMG_0156.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327124105129320498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOrHfatUNN-GElv0olEF92ap1mb6U_fhcIMIahmW3267U2XPBAskTG-aT-6LtkrPGseZ1O3B30yhFu_L_XLVqR3d_QxRrx0aMJzq0Idb8ufTQJ5WqpgOFudMAiXs2sfF2zDaTZG3ldQY/s400/IMG_0164.JPG" border="0" /> </div></div>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-28750811698519474872009-03-19T12:44:00.004-04:002009-03-19T12:47:13.037-04:00Diversions<div>There’s lots of fun stuff going on in the blog-o-sphere today. If you’re bored and just trying to kill some time at work, check out these fun blogs:<br /><br /><a href="http://notadiylife.blogspot.com/2009/03/professor-gifted-knight.html">Heather at Not A DIY</a> Life posted a link to a website that will turn you into a hero. (Or heroine, if you prefer). This is me in spandex (which is purely hypothetical because I would never be brave enough to wear spandex in real life). </div><div><br /> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314940929670932930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 298px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjGMMn8rxAeed3DBGzoeMLiz2lWaTf-CMsZdAS8Sr11WO68M0GW89IJOF-dLoQgOJzRJykESZNntos3ncBCswVW39wygMW6TX_Pz1suFnKPgHEXDPOUQUez7ZSS6BfvhZzKbIceqqiwI/s400/MyHero.jpg" border="0" /><br />If you have even more time to kill, check out Lynette’s pronunciation survey at <a href="http://thebestthingsinlifeare3.blogspot.com/2009/03/proper-pronunciation.html">The Best Things In Life Are Three.<br /></a><br />Have fun!Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-55742288804751433412009-03-18T12:35:00.003-04:002009-03-18T12:36:38.430-04:00Terrible<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtCI5W4R-ZQulL9RcEc6VwzGEosZevTzTUvC8ZatmuZl0Cm6ivCdqLp2kPkgM3YD1cFHo6iy8qWLtE2KvSYoPsqmEK3A_SDAZEpAlwDsm19MDOD73M8UxqAR3eTMzhgpOv1rtHahdW4wM/s1600-h/IMG_0085.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314567510804118802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtCI5W4R-ZQulL9RcEc6VwzGEosZevTzTUvC8ZatmuZl0Cm6ivCdqLp2kPkgM3YD1cFHo6iy8qWLtE2KvSYoPsqmEK3A_SDAZEpAlwDsm19MDOD73M8UxqAR3eTMzhgpOv1rtHahdW4wM/s320/IMG_0085.JPG" border="0" /></a> Its been a long time since I’ve shared a post on my blog simply because its difficult to admit to the world that I’m knee-deep in the terrible twos and I wish I could start drinking each day at noon.<br /><br />Every single moment of every single day is an opportunity for conflict with this kid. He doesn’t want to eat, he doesn’t want to get dressed, he doesn’t want to brush his teeth, he doesn’t want to wear a coat, he doesn’t want to get in the carseat, he doesn’t want to stop jumping on my bed, he doesn’t want to clean up, and he definitely does not want to take a nap.<br /><br />So, what does this kid actually <strong>WANT</strong> to do?<br /><br /><em>Jump on my bed while eating ice cream in the nude approximately one hour past bedtime.</em><br /><br />It hasn’t actually gotten that bad yet, but the scenario I just described would probably be the perfect ending to David’s dream day.<br /><br />Now, where did Mommy leave her flask...?Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-59617785958912710712009-03-09T09:27:00.009-04:002009-03-09T09:33:24.192-04:00The AftermathI’m still trying to recuperate from our exhausting weekend at <a href="http://www.kalahariresorts.com/oh/">Kalahari Indoor Waterpark </a>and the<a href="http://www.boston.com/news/nation/articles/2009/03/06/daylight_saving_time_begins_sunday/?p1=Well_MostPop_Emailed3"> time change </a>that you forgot to warn me about!<br /><br />In the meantime, enjoy these photos of David’s birthday celebration.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311180352480288130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MC6uruDaadHB0gM5EQUxbylsYXstrEhnuEd0wUin4S2XyOhzGnIegYFDywWhoR2ulCKKsgjvGR_FreD6Gvd2bmOrfc72c8sLmPKQZFaIbhabvPEyfG2VWpfcuF1B-OVcTizTuexHpzM/s320/IMG_0097.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311180160622460994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQpPb6sxlV3FeNqBkbn34xZ_jLSBlA1Ua94boK5SwLzCgQXMRnG2QB3ON2gR0qBVJy3DJcbFYoTAdScc1S-tIiXcGFFiyN7hxSEHyILO9X92L0G-cMmOH-OKAsBO128vdGkXivWYAVvU/s320/IMG_0098.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311179969622222978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46Wi2XGyUTXwaYuhL5p1iideenfC79Ka58YQ_oJy4y9lrszDEH1pvcdu5FNW4Bpg4_4tl4CCb4jIiv5gU54Jnmwoir3QPqhtMJr6ZyMsSdJ_XHgMQQjcNQbNE_UTlb8YWxtyKbruYYNw/s320/IMG_0102.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311179755913423570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFR3lHuvI4LOwPHCkicLKFOvG-RpYE5iub7KeTa000s2lvpgnWHrng13OP4QWzh0fzJAq1c7CDXWxtmlk_jjzWf1U5DnsO9blVc7u7-lkjb00HcucRBZ6sYZGqe-jyjO8n_8JezwxQQC4/s320/IMG_0085.JPG" border="0" />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-6549253717167774892009-03-05T06:00:00.002-05:002009-03-05T06:00:00.773-05:00Happy Birthday, David!<div align="center">Walk with Mommy down memory lane...<br /><br /></div><div style="VISIBILITY: visible" align="center"><embed style="WIDTH: 460px; HEIGHT: 350px" name="photo_peel" align="middle" src="http://flash.picturetrail.com/pflicks/3/spflick.swf" width="460" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" flashvars="ql=2&src1=http://pic20.picturetrail.com/VOL1472/12180283/flicks/1/6749900" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#000000" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain"></embed> </div><div style="VISIBILITY: visible"><p style="MARGIN-TOP: 10px; HEIGHT: 24px; whitespace: no-wrap"><a href="http://www.picturetrail.com/misc/counter.fcgi?link=%2FphotoFlick%2Fsamples%2Fpflicks.shtml&cID=924"><img src="http://pics.picturetrail.com/res/pflicks/pt.gif" align="left" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.picturetrail.com/misc/counter.fcgi?link=%2FphotoFlick%2Fsamples%2Fpflicks.shtml&cID=925"><img style="MARGIN-LEFT: 5px" src="http://pics.picturetrail.com/static/images/pt2.gif" align="left" border="0" /></a></p></div>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-56405653912802754362009-03-05T05:30:00.001-05:002009-03-05T05:30:00.691-05:00Two Years Ago...Two years ago, we met David for the first time.<br /><br />Enjoy his <a href="http://motherofamiracle.blogspot.com/2007/08/davi.html">birth story</a>.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309415742350519666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0j8KGYVS2BzLdR5HbX4wc5h7E_-bpcdCpkGF7v5Yhk1oe2bwQsgEbN1pf7DRtkit8RnRCSKTWpdPxgdjs0v6nuyCCcpkAkMMBmNEwRLakh-Od1GtsTcw6_wpM7FPz2KTIJj_5Mu2hkU/s320/Baby+Belly.jpg" border="0" />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-51158846554667526412009-03-04T10:37:00.007-05:002009-03-04T10:43:02.972-05:00Works For Me Wednesday: Gift Wrap<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIESuCdJEY6aWya3tWMKyU4Om7ErWC_ihOLjaFBQGK_XSly-FczCQ8Z5p8otxomW85Dy6pdUGUjhUI_t0ptvwqx0Brb0kSHhTwrM5HvmU4UZnnBzWZ-DrABHZ7vO4jFoCLUEV_QTtaG0/s1600-h/Gift.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309358220940099426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 166px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIESuCdJEY6aWya3tWMKyU4Om7ErWC_ihOLjaFBQGK_XSly-FczCQ8Z5p8otxomW85Dy6pdUGUjhUI_t0ptvwqx0Brb0kSHhTwrM5HvmU4UZnnBzWZ-DrABHZ7vO4jFoCLUEV_QTtaG0/s200/Gift.jpg" border="0" /></a> Today is the last day in my son’s life that he will only be one year old. To divert myself from being ridiculously sentimental about it, I’m going to devote a few minutes of my time today to a <a href="http://www.wearethatfamily.com/2009/02/wfmw-meal-planning-helpers.html">Works for Me Wednesday </a>post.<br /><br />Anyone with a small child knows that any gift-receiving special occasion involves an excited child tearing the wrapping paper off of an incredibly awesome toy that they intend to play with immediately.<br /><br />The joy fades when the child realizes that the awesome toy is impossible to remove from its packaging without adult assistance. The unlucky adult then realizes that the tools necessary to remove the packaging includes a pair of scissors to cut the tape off the box, dexterous fingers to remove the tiny metal twist ties, and inevitably, a tiny screwdriver to remove the tiny screws preventing the toy’s escape from the box. It’s also inevitable that no one will have a tiny screwdriver in their pocket at this moment and the child will be reduced to tears. If you are incredibly unlucky, the toy will also require batteries and fate always ensures that you don’t have the correct size batteries lying around in a drawer when you need them to be.<br /><br />Last night I was wrapping birthday gifts for David and had a brilliant idea. Actually, it’s a suggestion that I got from another parent a long time ago and it happened to pop into my brain at an opportune moment.<br /><br />If you are wrapping a gift for a young child, remove the packaging FIRST. Yes, the box is pretty and confirms that the toy inside is brand new. Yes, the gift wrap will look hideous without a box inside. Yes, the wrapped gift will look like it fell out of Santa’s sleigh and got run over by a school bus.<br /><br />BUT<br /><br />The child will unwrap the gift, shriek with joy, and then play with that awesome toy right away. No tantrums and no tiny screwdrivers necessary.<br /><br />Hurray!<br /><br />I think I’m almost ready for David’s 2nd birthday. Now, all I need is a Prozac…<br /><br />That’s what <a href="http://www.wearethatfamily.com/2009/02/wfmw-meal-planning-helpers.html">Works for Me!</a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309358106215170754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxVq44DEMQSZW99aFw87PUTNFYml1QsONQWxlaRZX9QQ1YVXQIdL2F-48jtItR2Ng38C5sq_Ae8gRKMNEXDOo3wrWUnfEQlhZEHlCVFLVgw18765n6p1ABkyxUMOuaKrWYh2R_Gk4koxU/s200/WFMWImproved.jpg" border="0" />Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-73952808142920333412009-03-03T14:07:00.004-05:002009-03-03T14:10:03.486-05:00The Agony Continues<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuFEFwyVcy_u81yrw_IoPoE-6u3o4QzjVBUpi3-0jBnxILpp3Hk3WvGRDRz7pINPgqNWrcZUok-HKactoycDz_NHReTcKq7CBfulc5dZHa-zkeqxa0NiSZFmeSYdu_DmZInYD-6GjDts/s1600-h/Giant+Birthday+Cake.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309040679471173602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 143px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuFEFwyVcy_u81yrw_IoPoE-6u3o4QzjVBUpi3-0jBnxILpp3Hk3WvGRDRz7pINPgqNWrcZUok-HKactoycDz_NHReTcKq7CBfulc5dZHa-zkeqxa0NiSZFmeSYdu_DmZInYD-6GjDts/s200/Giant+Birthday+Cake.jpg" border="0" /></a> I just spent my entire lunch hour at <a href="http://www.gianteagle.com/article.aspx?cntid=176803">Giant Eagle </a>agonizing over which birthday cake to buy for David to take to daycare for his class to share on Thursday.<br /><br />On an ordinary day, the decision would be simple. $10 cake or $28 cake? Obviously, the $10 cake!<br /><br />Today, the decision was much more difficult.<br /><br />What does the guilty mother that will be working on her child’s second birthday buy for his birthday celebration that he will have with his friends while his guilty mother is working?<br /><br />Does she buy the expensive, professionally decorated Elmo cake that he will be thrilled to have and forget an hour later?<br /><br />Or does she buy the inexpensive, simple white cake with sprinkles and write his name on it with decorating gel?<br /><br />Or does she buy the mid-range, elegantly decorated cookie-cake with icing balloons on it to impress him?<br /><br />Or does she agonize over this decision for an hour, then call Daddy at work for his advice?<br /><br />She calls Daddy and he tells her to buy the $10 cake and write his name on it. He calmly reminds her that his friends will be wearing more cake than they will be eating, so it doesn’t make sense to spend $28 on a cake that will only be used to frustrate many mothers that are responsible for washing the laundry for the children wearing this cake.<br /><br />Mommy relents and buys the cheap cake.<br /><br />She’ll make up for it by going to Babies R Us tomorrow during lunch and buying the Birthday Boy shirt for him to wear.Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-8998157281924756972009-03-02T12:40:00.004-05:002009-03-02T12:47:58.605-05:00Birthday Blues<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjax4IZ9wOgVy-NQRAjE3II7L8I53cI7qpgt57yy021gUFazFxGxAK3i0IbO4DgfeXYFXmvTdTjso1PfNvhfeGsH_mn03HU8NSnQH5MeIT72VjRQaXaMFrqgX1zHRBknGNR1qpvKu07Qg0/s1600-h/Birthday+cake+candles.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308647325034073874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjax4IZ9wOgVy-NQRAjE3II7L8I53cI7qpgt57yy021gUFazFxGxAK3i0IbO4DgfeXYFXmvTdTjso1PfNvhfeGsH_mn03HU8NSnQH5MeIT72VjRQaXaMFrqgX1zHRBknGNR1qpvKu07Qg0/s200/Birthday+cake+candles.jpg" border="0" /></a> I think its only fair to warn you that I’m going to be sentimental this week. David’s second birthday is on Thursday. Where has the time gone??<br /><br />Rather than have a party at our house this year infested with relatives that just won’t leave, we decided to take the kids to <a href="http://www.kalahariresorts.com/oh/">Kalahari Indoor Waterpark </a>for the weekend. I gotta tell you that I have never been to an indoor waterpark, but just the thought of putting on my bathing suit in public in the dead of winter is absolutely thrilling to me. But I knew David would love it, so how could I deny him this? I can’t wait to see his face when he sees the pool!<br /><br />For his birthday on Thursday, Mommy and Daddy will be taking him to the indoor playground at <a href="http://www.chick-fil-a.com/#">Chick-Fil-A</a>. We’ll pretend that we expect him to eat his chicken nuggets before he climbs out of the high chair to play. After dinner, we’ll do cake and candles at home and David will un-wrap his gifts. Daddy was cool enough to do the gift shopping this year and his choices of a <a href="http://www.hasbro.com/playdoh/default.cfm?page=products&product_id=12818">Play-Doh Duffel Bag </a>and the <a href="http://www.hasbro.com/playdoh/default.cfm?page=products&product_id=8994">Play-Doh Fun Factory </a>are going to be a hit!<br /><br />I hope I don’t cry this year…Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-14450664428327204792009-02-19T13:36:00.005-05:002009-02-19T13:40:15.171-05:00Can You See Me Now?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyHxBDAV9m_OSfo2M9BD0U1hG_QSJ06HGrB8npkR1JtEhCi0Tg4BR-Jm06jBlMbwAdxpXx-cvHtapsw-k3CmB9cUKQ62-4KqxQbPDi88s8Surav3pYzx0n7pmVCdvSpDol-KhSsw-sHO0/s1600-h/Webcam.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304579464158424098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyHxBDAV9m_OSfo2M9BD0U1hG_QSJ06HGrB8npkR1JtEhCi0Tg4BR-Jm06jBlMbwAdxpXx-cvHtapsw-k3CmB9cUKQ62-4KqxQbPDi88s8Surav3pYzx0n7pmVCdvSpDol-KhSsw-sHO0/s200/Webcam.jpg" border="0" /></a> My dad and I both have cellular phone service with <a href="http://www22.verizon.com/">Verizon</a>, and its not uncommon to hear either one of us invoke their slogan, “Can you hear me now?,” whenever my Dad tries to use his phone from home. He has cell phone coverage everywhere on God’s green earth except for in his house. You would think he lives out in Uni-bomber country, but he doesn’t. He lives in Florida in a metropolis best known as a port for Cruise ships. (I’d tell you exactly where that is, but I don’t know for sure that you’re not an internet stalker, do I?)<br /><br />I’ve tried on quite a few occasions to let David talk to Papa on my cell phone, but that little experiment usually has catastrophic consequences. He either closes the phone, effectively disconnecting the call, or he accidentally texts or calls people that I have been avoiding. Needless to say, it just wasn’t working.<br /><br />My Dad is a fairly smart guy, so he bought us a webcam and had it delivered right to the house. I was thrilled with this idea because David would get to know his grandparents and actually know what they look like, too. Its much cheaper than plane tickets.<br /><br />A couple months went by and I still wasn’t able to convince hubby to install the webcam for me. It’s mostly my fault because I really try not to nag, and its really hard to say, “When are you going to install that webcam for me?” without sounding like you are nagging. So I cut him some slack.<br /><br />Now that it’s been more than 5 months since the webcam has been sitting in the closet, I gave myself permission to install the webcam on the computer by myself. Although Dad reassured me that it would only take 15 minutes to download the software, it actually took an entire hour. The programs kept freezing up and I had to reboot my computer umpteen times. Of course, Dad has explained to me umpteen times that this is exactly why <a href="http://www.linux.org/">Linux</a> is better than <a href="http://www.microsoft.com/WINDOWS/">Windows</a>, but I’m a glutton for punishment.<br /><br />We tried our first webcam video chat last night and it wasn’t great, but it could have been worse. We both had picture, but the video wasn’t moving. We both had audio, but it was really difficult to understand. My Dad sounded like the guy behind the curtain in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wizard_of_Oz_(1939_film)">Wizard of Oz</a>.<br /><br />So, do any of you computer geeks reading my blog know what we’re doing wrong?Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-60271961879107729552009-02-17T08:05:00.000-05:002009-02-17T08:05:00.071-05:00Best BuddiesSkywalker is one of David's favorite people on the entire planet. He adores her, probably because she is the coolest big sister anybody could ever have.<br /><br /><div><div>She even lets him listen to her Ipod with her. How cool is that?<br /></div><br /><div></div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303496078645260050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCYDGH36TNoptrpgUvgu-YBpJ9YDzT7it894Nwe5WEhyphenhyphenGBZpAR-6c0PvPsh2lrpIlMdCNw5YoxcrSkTcOxlFjIbI-E7Om2CP0H_9XG5h2to7TKLi2ac_i9LqUF0NTcB5ab7av1xhOZc2Q/s400/IMG_0075.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303495891045616290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijvUhhch4HQS8V4qEHLA-IUOS9-ca97v4G7kW9BS-2ot0uGY_9l4lxuPya6QB9eB_eyO9hEkmH_q_K04ZXNxObjKd_Nz87if8O8LZ4vVWKKPPjgSGAoMeVEC1LcG1VDLd1i8K4hRUqhHY/s400/IMG_0077.JPG" border="0" /> </div>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-38311031784789255952009-02-16T14:17:00.017-05:002009-02-16T15:29:25.785-05:00Big Helper<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4l2sMMBpTIV0B5O8xzqRonZV06x5_4igXGtQ1ntXVVFRol2akqNu8sAw7fKBinTjRf5I3xVvx6OkSFwYqHzXM3-BLclTv-xLD7gTbBj9n91a-gVWNuu_Vt3jEDCPkr_grDoEfZjN9v0/s1600-h/IMG_0053.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303494578707261634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4l2sMMBpTIV0B5O8xzqRonZV06x5_4igXGtQ1ntXVVFRol2akqNu8sAw7fKBinTjRf5I3xVvx6OkSFwYqHzXM3-BLclTv-xLD7gTbBj9n91a-gVWNuu_Vt3jEDCPkr_grDoEfZjN9v0/s200/IMG_0053.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><div><div><div><div><div>I made the mistake of trying to pack away David’s baby clothes this weekend while he was awake. I decided it was time to put another round of clothing into storage when I opened a dresser drawer the other day while I was looking for nail clippers and I encountered an entire drawer devoted to baby bibs.<br /><br />While I was packing up his baby bibs, tiny socks, and unbelievably adorable tiny outfits, he was doing some unpacking of his own.<br /><br />He tried on his Halloween costume again… </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303494372138857490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQVNaFwqmRrAOJ42nUJKTRe4f2KvLI5Tw-DJ_uVBZGzITdRHIAJRYxuhE7zQWW9udakjky0Z_fMf1DlrqO2m3iovNnhG0a4CVEdPdkRU-L7oMn7V0EJyhqhhhIvUx5-5QD2z1f28c8yE/s400/IMG_0049.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303493955319082674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3XuWqEDHy3pRtx2bJzlw5B3IPqVKoh58g-5PedWg3R0VpJ3wqWeLM-JJcW-aExFhAjTBSvBlC8g1hjqwDpPkDS-xM5zCRTzdVy5w75kRyyzonamRy-bAA3Xm0Jc5oDf1oLsG1mhtRbLI/s400/IMG_0054.JPG" border="0" /><br />Then he had a fit because I wouldn’t let him play with Mommy’s new <a href="http://www.usa.canon.com/consumer/controller?act=ModelInfoAct&fcategoryid=144&modelid=17630">Canon Powershot SX10</a>… </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303493835149480514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAWK0WJyDeUogCXq-29RbZD_bhtUXD-v0hJFQs8IP1xgWq10-3iO2rUJaxL8NL0d9mXSibIrE0Nvc9PEyXpTbVMfSciEoZDGlcapooiNoVTd5yYXQtjjUNvwyHA9-ZN0h26Q-O2kOj5CI/s400/IMG_0059.JPG" border="0" /><br />Then he demanded to wear a tiny bib and sit in his baby carrier… </div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303493479769882866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIc2XUtmst5y16zuWxO82LaaW9HFrpVimas_9wxOWpcHea7LuBerhjQCL6njp4wYVNS7ev9lAew3LhXWmEFwg6uvc-Ac-AtI2zpIVtJswc46o2kfDNNNjSexgVjjBtgyoUWIvWyV4QPs/s400/IMG_0072.JPG" border="0" /><br />No way Mommy’s putting that on her back with you in it, big boy!!<br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303493187866333010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCB_m8QdTHBhOOSAQJopIy79aBJBRdlnQDlX7zQtrwXdHoo3juupTW3e1zy7kcpf1h9EajZMp88vBZmU2uONfByY492LhmepLLbtxnMjHjy9o1e53H9SOo8Z5cKuOqFrw_xTNhfzuZTY/s400/IMG_0068.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-80086714565517114112009-02-14T08:44:00.001-05:002009-02-14T08:44:01.046-05:00Happy Valentine's Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8WLEGG6TLuSAPZhjrGxRFUJ0v6bzgR09som4cG3AE786WDVx8eUclW2e8T0YkMzWxHKTlWLM9ZvQlRSuIEGF0_FZck-mlD4ba5naALoe25K0SQYHcfwW536r6R0YaAlPq6PlVkR2O-Y/s1600-h/Mom+Hold+Hands2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301164565818927554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8WLEGG6TLuSAPZhjrGxRFUJ0v6bzgR09som4cG3AE786WDVx8eUclW2e8T0YkMzWxHKTlWLM9ZvQlRSuIEGF0_FZck-mlD4ba5naALoe25K0SQYHcfwW536r6R0YaAlPq6PlVkR2O-Y/s400/Mom+Hold+Hands2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>A mother holds her children’s hands for a while, their hearts forever.</em></span></div>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-87233006353918782392009-02-11T10:10:00.005-05:002009-02-11T10:16:11.085-05:00Works for Me Wednesday: Potty Training<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVGNrx4myn_JTYjdzcFT0TSNalYNeAQL7HFFMgbVc4Z0ONtL8EKFDL5qEkTGIeeQ90tWkRUeLYiA-egKqPnEIftPfqAiQqFKImcjDzMdZhp4O54Etu_sUw28RtKPJWhcxAUa0U1bT5dM/s1600-h/Baby+on+Toilet2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301558069921228274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 149px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVGNrx4myn_JTYjdzcFT0TSNalYNeAQL7HFFMgbVc4Z0ONtL8EKFDL5qEkTGIeeQ90tWkRUeLYiA-egKqPnEIftPfqAiQqFKImcjDzMdZhp4O54Etu_sUw28RtKPJWhcxAUa0U1bT5dM/s200/Baby+on+Toilet2.jpg" border="0" /></a> It’s been ages since I participated in a <a href="http://rocksinmydryer.typepad.com/shannon/2009/02/works-for-me-canker-sores.html">Works for Me Wednesday</a>, but I received some awesome potty training advice the other day, tried it for myself, and I am just aching to share this brilliant idea with you.<br /><br />Little King David recently began attending a new daycare center. The center’s policy is that any child over the age of 2 years old wears <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Huggies-Pull-Ups-Training-Learning-training/dp/B000096OKM/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=baby-products&qid=1234365236&sr=8-1">Pull-Ups </a>at school rather than diapers because they begin potty training after each child’s second birthday. David is 23 months at the moment, so his potty training adventure will begin very soon.<br /><br />He seems to be very interested in all things related to the potty. He “helps” Mommy and Daddy go potty and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sesame-Street-Elmos-Potty-Time/dp/B000G0O5F0">Elmo’s Potty Time </a>is his favorite movie at the moment. He asks for a diaper change immediately upon soiling it and he is always happy to tell me when he is going to poop.<br /><br />The other day, a friend advised that every time he has a bowel movement, I should dump his poop into the potty and tell him that is where poop belongs. That sounds so disgusting that I knew he would love it.<br /><br />Last night, he told me he was pooping, so we changed his diaper and I told him the big news. Poop goes in the potty. He looked stunned! I let him look at it in the diaper first. Although he said, “Ewww! Gross!” He really looked more curious and impressed with himself, but I pretended that he was grossed out.<br /><br />We dumped the poop into the potty and David flushed, while waving “Bye Bye, poop!” Then, we washed his hands in the sink, just like we will do after he uses the toilet.<br /><br />He loved it!<br /><br />It was one of the grossest mom things I’ve had the pleasure of doing in the past two years, (or at least in recent memory), but I think David is looking forward to his next bowel movement!<br /><br />I’ll keep you posted on the potty training progress. In the meantime, this is working for me!<br /><br />To read more interesting and useful tips like this, visit <a href="http://rocksinmydryer.typepad.com/shannon/2009/02/works-for-me-canker-sores.html">Works For Me Wednesday</a>.<a href="http://rocksinmydryer.typepad.com/shannon/2009/02/works-for-me-canker-sores.html"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301557844498591010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2OY6TMHE6IMLBXN0AT5RiLYF7uL4RwWVzixW3If-bybdZdn1FEG1NGFj1L9IsZj8z7_90NSjRDumbZEgRkTLJ4MKAm-dxUETgU_UYXd-rwqERUrxVs5HVq8tq7tuUxA8yabgiodNaNVo/s200/WFMWImproved.jpg" border="0" /></a>Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8401405654415204876.post-34004314580364677672009-02-11T09:49:00.002-05:002009-02-11T09:52:15.444-05:00Did I Blink?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXAK4K2sxg4u0zsRNiC_LpC0G0oGrKL7y4dcLTw-nMse-nX4uy26ZdiBOEAAZ8JxSOivczqWEmYOcvmEWxSOm8_iz9C3Aj4JdNWMazQvoEQPbMYGStGK-tH5x3vh7OYluOjbrIxz6J38/s1600-h/Sprouting+Seed.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301552433697613778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 165px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXAK4K2sxg4u0zsRNiC_LpC0G0oGrKL7y4dcLTw-nMse-nX4uy26ZdiBOEAAZ8JxSOivczqWEmYOcvmEWxSOm8_iz9C3Aj4JdNWMazQvoEQPbMYGStGK-tH5x3vh7OYluOjbrIxz6J38/s200/Sprouting+Seed.jpg" border="0" /></a> Since when is my little baby such a big boy? It seems like just yesterday he needed me for everything and his most impressive response to any question was “Yes.”<br /><br />Now, he eats cereal in a bowl with milk and a spoon, he drinks from a cup without a lid, he opens the refrigerator by himself, finds the blueberries that I have hidden in the butter compartment, opens them and pours them into his snack cup. He brushes his teeth by himself, can turn on the water in the sink to wash his hands, and pretends to do bicep curls with my resistance band. He has a painfully accurate aim when throwing any ball (he’s a lefty, too!). He puts away his dirty laundry, tosses his dirty dishes into the kitchen sink, and loves to vacuum.<br /><br />He suddenly speaks a zillion words and he likes to throw them out all at once. Last week, he could say “Yes.” This week, he says, “C’,mon, Mama. Get up and come here. I want this, please.” He also loves to say, “I do it! I big boy.”<br /><br />How did this happen so quickly?<br /><br />Who is this little man living in my house?<br /><br />And where is my baby?Dawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14550075439690442119noreply@blogger.com1