<?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-6138022755742875554</id><updated>2011-11-02T20:31:23.289-05:00</updated><category term='beginning'/><title type='text'>Meaninful Moments by MadreBug</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-2148862977858643164</id><published>2011-11-02T20:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T20:31:23.514-05:00</updated><title type='text'>30 Days of Thankfulness - Day 2</title><content type='html'>I am thankful for a husband who knows how to and enjoys cooking. He puts together the yummiest dinners and desserts from random things in the kitchen. It was SO good tonight. He keeps us well fed. Tonight was a taco pasta salad type thing. I'm really hoping the boys finish it off because it's REALLY yummy and I'd probably eat the whole thing if it's left in my refrigerator.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-2148862977858643164?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/2148862977858643164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=2148862977858643164&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/2148862977858643164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/2148862977858643164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2011/11/30-days-of-thankfulness-day-2.html' title='30 Days of Thankfulness - Day 2'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-8359019795334265967</id><published>2011-11-01T19:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T19:49:00.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>30 Days of Thankfulness - Day 1</title><content type='html'>Today I am thankful for the giggles from the wrestling match in my living room. All four boys are trying to pin Daddy. I love that my husband can enjoy getting on the floor and playing with his boys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-8359019795334265967?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/8359019795334265967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=8359019795334265967&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/8359019795334265967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/8359019795334265967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2011/11/30-days-of-thankfulness-day-1.html' title='30 Days of Thankfulness - Day 1'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-6649686544350296648</id><published>2011-10-27T23:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-27T23:37:11.157-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Here</title><content type='html'>So, it's been a VERY long time since I've posted anything. For a while, I had very little positive to say. So, I kept my crankiness to myself. Then, it had been so long that the thought of posting again seemed overwhelming. Now, I've decided I don't have to have big, important posts and just need to take baby steps to get back into the swing of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that vein, I'm posting about my nails. I love getting my nails done. There's just something calming and centering about my nails looking good. Unfortunately, my budget doesn't love my sculptured nails as much as I do. I decided I would try it myself. Here's my first ever attempt at doing my own sculptured nails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WRVtJMHrIOU/TqowtH9XyOI/AAAAAAAAAK8/IZz1n1K7XQE/s1600/IMG_1227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WRVtJMHrIOU/TqowtH9XyOI/AAAAAAAAAK8/IZz1n1K7XQE/s320/IMG_1227.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;They are by no means perfect but I think it's a good start. I had a lot of fun doing it, too. FYI: I used Finger Paints polishes- Picasso's Puce and Key To My Art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="goog_840453686"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="goog_840453687"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-6649686544350296648?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/6649686544350296648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=6649686544350296648&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/6649686544350296648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/6649686544350296648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2011/10/still-here.html' title='Still Here'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WRVtJMHrIOU/TqowtH9XyOI/AAAAAAAAAK8/IZz1n1K7XQE/s72-c/IMG_1227.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-3589965303457540027</id><published>2009-07-09T09:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T10:08:16.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy birds</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt;, I have no pics for this.  We were too much in shock to think of a camera at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was an INSANE day.  Luckily, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ginney&lt;/span&gt; was here to help with stuff.  Kelvin went out to check the mail.  He felt something hit his head.  He thought it was weird but just got the mail.  As he was coming back in, he tried to figure out what it could have been.  Then, he remember that we have a bird nest over our entryway.  He looked on the porch for any signs, to no avail.  He opened the door and there was an adolescent bird sitting in front of the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I hear, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Uhm&lt;/span&gt;, we have a problem.  There's a bird."  My initial reaction was, "Duh."  We keep getting rid of the nest and it keeps coming back.  Then, he says, "...in the house."  It was so surreal.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ginney&lt;/span&gt; and I kinda looked at each other and the only thing either of us could say was, "What?"  There was no flapping or anything and it took a while to process it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, the bird was in the corner behind the door and apparently stunned.  It wasn't moving at all.  Some of you know that I have an aversion to birds.  They're dirty and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;unpredictable&lt;/span&gt;.  They can peck your eyes out with their little beaks or claw you.  (I didn't say it was reasonable.)  Apparently, Gin has the same issues.  So, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ginney&lt;/span&gt;, Kelvin and I are all standing at least 10 feet from this little bird.  I tried to walk toward it to assess the situation.  I got about 3 steps closer and had to back up.  It was really pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ginney&lt;/span&gt; has the idea that since it's still stunned, we can use the broom to get it on the dust pan to take it back out.  Brilliant idea but not one of us could get close enough to execute it.  So, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Ginney&lt;/span&gt; suggest we call animal control because there is a wild animal in the house.  Not prepared to look like a complete idiot in front of a stranger, I call Daddy.  Mom answered the phone.  In not so many words, she agrees that we're all pathetic.  She finally asks if maybe Sammy can handle.  I ask him.  He walks to the front door, looks down at the little bird, looks at me with a raised eyebrow, shakes his head and goes to the other room.  Mom finally says, "You're &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;interrupting&lt;/span&gt; his movie but Dad's on his way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we're waiting for Daddy, we keep the door open just enough so if he so decides, the bird can get out.  Then the bird &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;flaps&lt;/span&gt; his wings and Kelvin squeaks.  We all give a nervous laugh.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Ginney&lt;/span&gt; grabs my That's-A-Bowl (my favorite mixing bowl) and says to give it to Kelvin.  Kelvin can get closer than we can.  My initial reaction was, "NO &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;FREAKIN&lt;/span&gt;' WAY!"  She calmly asked if I would prefer a bird flying around my house.  I reluctantly handed it to Kelvin with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;instructions&lt;/span&gt; to just put it over the bird in an emergency situation.  So, now Kelvin is standing with the broom in his right hand and the giant bowl in his left- quite the image.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, Daddy only lives about 4 blocks away and got here quickly.  He brought a net with him and came in caught the bird and took it out.  The whole process took him about 30 seconds.  We thanked him and he went home.  I'm so glad that my parents live so close and are willing to come over and help me when I'm being neurotic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next time you see Kelvin, you'll have to ask him for the re-enactment.  He's quite funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-3589965303457540027?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/3589965303457540027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=3589965303457540027&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/3589965303457540027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/3589965303457540027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2009/07/crazy-birds.html' title='Crazy birds'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-1077034197327255851</id><published>2009-06-21T12:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T16:05:21.351-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Father's Day &amp; candy &amp; Rion</title><content type='html'>For Father's Day, the boys took all their pennies and $2.50 worth of "silver coins" to Coinstar.  They ended up with about $35.  They got a large card- $10.  Then, they got dinner at McDonald's and Panda Express.  Daddy won't eat McD's and the two youngest don't eat Panda.  It was difficult for William to sit back and let his boys pay for dinner.  But, he was very gracious about it.  They were quite proud of themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We gave him his cards this morning and two of his favorite types of candy- circus peanuts and Sour Patch Kids.  We kept trying to explain to Rion that these were Daddy's special candy.  I've been trying to explain to him since last night that since it's a present, Daddy doesn't have to share.  Daddy always ends up sharing anyway though.  Rion kept asking for some of Daddy's candy.  So, Kelvin thought he would be nice and offer an alternative candy- a Warhead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the video of Rion's first Warhead:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tMZBRATUj_4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tMZBRATUj_4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after this, we each had one and Rion decided that he wanted to try a yellow instead.  Here's the result:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Gd08qxjqI9o&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Gd08qxjqI9o&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, he has decided that he prefers Daddy to start it out and then he'll finish it.  Then, William gave him one of his circus peanuts.  Rion was very happy.  Then, 2 hours later, he asked for another yellow one.  I told him he could try another one later this week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-1077034197327255851?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/1077034197327255851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=1077034197327255851&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/1077034197327255851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/1077034197327255851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2009/06/fathers-day-candy-rion.html' title='Father&apos;s Day &amp; candy &amp; Rion'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-8705047743896849155</id><published>2009-06-08T22:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T23:08:24.377-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer's here</title><content type='html'>Today was fun.  Rion started Ballet Basics.  That's basically a 2 week ballet camp for the little ones.  He's been counting down for the last week.  I had to convince him that he needed to shower and eat before we left.  He really enjoyed it.  Usually, when he goes to ballet with us, he just sits in the lobby or office with mommy.  He's been trying to convince everyone for the last 2 years that he's old enough to take ballet.  So, finally being "big" enough to take a class was HUGE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came home, ate lunch and dropped Ian off at church to go to twilight (day) camp w/Scouts.  It was William's first full day of summer.  So, he got to join us on a trip to Grandma and Papa's.  I taught Daddy how to attach photos with his email. (Bethany, make sure Grandma Trudie shows you your pictures.)  Then, we spent the afternoon hanging out- much of which was on the porch.  It was very enjoyable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ian had a great time at camp. He came home hot and tired and happy. It was very interesting comparing today with his first day of camp last year.  Last year, he wanted me to wait with him until it was time to go.  Today, he jumped out the back door and said, "Goodbye" as he ran to his friends.  It makes a momma proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna try to get a couple of pictures tomorrow to share.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-8705047743896849155?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/8705047743896849155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=8705047743896849155&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/8705047743896849155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/8705047743896849155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2009/06/summers-here.html' title='Summer&apos;s here'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-4453778835667926934</id><published>2009-04-12T22:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T22:12:55.485-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thankful</title><content type='html'>So, I haven't posted since Christmas.  I decided that as I try to get back in the habit, I'd start with a list of some things for which I'm grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The gospel&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My Heavenly Father's and Savior's love&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Gift of Atonement&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The power of the priesthood in my home&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Priesthood blessings&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A father, husband and son who are worthy priesthood holders&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The gift of the Holy Ghost&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The peace that the Holy Ghost can bring even when it feels like everything is falling apart around us.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A wonderful, loving, supporting family&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Loving, intelligent, (mostly) well-behaved children&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Being able to raise my family with the help of my Heavenly Father&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;There's so much more but I'll leave it at that for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-4453778835667926934?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/4453778835667926934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=4453778835667926934&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/4453778835667926934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/4453778835667926934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2009/04/thankful.html' title='Thankful'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-8162278249764814679</id><published>2008-12-25T19:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T19:51:12.046-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Contentment</title><content type='html'>I received the best Christmas gift ever this year-- contentment.  We just got home from my parents' house.  We had such a great day and enjoyed visiting with family.  I'll post later with pics and possibly even video.  Right now, I just want to share my appreciation for a wonderful afternoon/evening.  I haven't felt this content in a very long time.  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;MERRY CHRISTMAS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-8162278249764814679?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/8162278249764814679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=8162278249764814679&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/8162278249764814679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/8162278249764814679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2008/12/contentment.html' title='Contentment'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-7933499242194582596</id><published>2008-12-24T19:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T20:16:41.056-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h3 class="post-title entry-title"&gt; &lt;a href="http://theturkeyfarm.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-tag.html"&gt;Christmas Tag&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/h3&gt;   &lt;div align="left"&gt;From GinGin:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Usually, paper for Christmas.  Especially, if it's really odd shape. William loves the challenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;2. Real tree or Artificial? Artificial, as with so many things, I'm VERY allergic to real Christmas trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.         When do you put up the tree? Thanksgiving weekend.  That's not to say we get the ornaments on it then.  In fact, this year, we just decorated w/Christmas cards.  Turned out pretty cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.         When do you take the tree down? We try to do it on New Year's Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.         Do you like eggnog? EEWWWWWWW!  YUCK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.         Favorite gift received as a child? Probably my stereo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.         Hardest person to buy for? Kelvin-what he wants changes constantly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.         Easiest person to buy for? Rion.  As long as he gets to rip paper off something, he's happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.         Do you have a nativity scene? Yep. I collect them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Mail or email Christmas cards? I always intend to mail Christmas cards.  I've only done it a couple of times.  Maybe next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? accounting software from my husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;12.       Favorite Christmas Movie? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Twas the Night Before Christmas.&lt;/span&gt;  I love those mice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Whenever I can. If I buy things too early, I'll give them and have to buy something else by Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;14.       Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Probably, but I can't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;15.       Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Summer sausage, cheese and crackers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;16. Lights on the tree? Yes.  I really like our green ones this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;17.       Favorite Christmas song? Anyone that knows me, knows this is just a silly question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Both. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;19.       Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's? Yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20.       Angel on the tree top or a star? This year, neither.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Both. We open one gift Christmas Eve and the rest Christmas morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;22.       Most annoying thing about this time of the year? Dallas traffic, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Favorite ornament theme or color? I really like red and silver. (GinGin is totally welcome to  bum some purple one's off me next year. Wouldn't hurt my feelings if you somehow misplaced them.) ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24.       Favorite for Christmas dinner? Mama's chili.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25.       What do you want for Christmas this year? a completely unscheduled day w/all of my boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;26.       Who is most likely to respond to this? Maybe Devon or Mandy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-7933499242194582596?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/7933499242194582596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=7933499242194582596&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/7933499242194582596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/7933499242194582596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-tag-from-gingin-1.html' title=''/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-231237083334985297</id><published>2008-12-06T13:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T21:09:59.606-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stitches</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/STrQGbt1WNI/AAAAAAAAAFE/DtDKLWZl-74/s1600-h/DSC01277.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/STrQGbt1WNI/AAAAAAAAAFE/DtDKLWZl-74/s400/DSC01277.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;With 4 boys, the oldest of which is 13, I felt pretty accomplished- no broken bones or stitches. I'm sure those of you that know what monkeys our boys are would agree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Wednesday, that ended. The boys were playing while I was working on the computer. Then, Ian says, "Mom, you need to look at this." Since it's typical for him to freak out over every little scrape, I kept typing and asked what was wrong this time. Rion came around the couch with blood spreading across the left side of his face. I quickly aborted my work, picked Rion up and went to the bathroom. Luckily, after this many years of motherhood I've come to know that head/face wounds bleed A LOT. Add to that a 3 year old that keeps trying to wipe it away and I decided to get him cleaned up before I totally freaked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rion was crying but his brothers were in hysterics. Ian was the worst because he was the one that came around the corner too fast, running into the glider Rion was hiding behind. While cleaning the little guy, I tried to convince Ian that accidents happen and Sammy that Rion was really going to be ok. Rion, trying to be a big boy, even started to tell his brother's, "I a'right. It's just an owie." I got him mostly cleaned up and the bleeding down to more of a slow ooze than flow. I called the doctor to make sure this was an ER worthy injury. They said to take him right in. I made a couple of calls to make arrangements for the other two. Then I called William. I realized after I got to the hospital that all I said to him was, "Can you cancel your UIL practice after school and meet me at Cook's ER?" He said he could and I said, "OK, good." I then hung up the phone and walked out the door. He had no idea what was going on until he got to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rion was such a big guy in the ER. He was happy and friendly to everyone. He tried to make the sad girl behind us in the waiting room smile. The wound tech. and child life person were great. Rion never cried while there. He whimpered a little when they were numbing his eyelid/brow. But he used his words and told the tech to slow down. He ended up with 6 "string bandaids". I called them stitches once while there and got one heck of a dirty look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a close up without the bandaid.  In true little boy fashion, he's very proud of the fact that he's the first of his brothers to get "string bandaids."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/STrQGusvWsI/AAAAAAAAAFM/QBpBSfhSWe4/s1600-h/DSC01279.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/STrQGusvWsI/AAAAAAAAAFM/QBpBSfhSWe4/s400/DSC01279.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Jodi for getting Ian where he needed to be, Mom &amp;amp; Dad for watching Sammy and Ginney for helping me refocus (as usual) and being the photographer.&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/6138022755742875554-231237083334985297?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/231237083334985297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=231237083334985297&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/231237083334985297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/231237083334985297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2008/12/with-4-boys-oldest-of-which-is-13-i.html' title='Stitches'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/STrQGbt1WNI/AAAAAAAAAFE/DtDKLWZl-74/s72-c/DSC01277.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-5682205211473331489</id><published>2008-11-26T01:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T01:22:14.405-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Oven Timer (guest author)</title><content type='html'>The old western dinner bell holds no coal to our oven timer. Our boys are more attuned to the simple beeping sound than most musicians are their instrument. Pavlov would be excited to see reaction of the boys at even a single beep as I get to the oven a second late. "Dinner?" Rion calls down the hall as he drops everything he's doing. Sammy meets him at the kitchen entrance eyeing the stove top looking for pots and pans. Then he scans the countertops looking for any potential ingredients to help clue-in his brothers. Ian takes a more direct approach and guesses two or three of the dishes he thinks he might smell as he makes a more fashionably late entrance. "You just had lunch," I tell them as I continue to work. "No, I didn't," Sammy retorts with his stomach once again winning out over his memory. I remind him what lunch was today and explain to all of them that I'm baking for holiday parties. "We'll eat again soon."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have great little helpers. Rion from a year and a half old, has let me know that the timer is going off in the kitchen. He does this even if I am standing at the stove, reaching for the timer... and he is on the other side of the house. The others will more quietly find reason to hover around the kitchen after hearing the beeping of the timer. Their movements resemble vultures or a small pack of hungry dogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ramen?"&lt;br /&gt;"I just put water on to boil guys," I let them know again.&lt;br /&gt;"Pizza?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, I just turned on the oven."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-W&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-5682205211473331489?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/5682205211473331489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=5682205211473331489&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/5682205211473331489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/5682205211473331489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2008/11/our-oven-timer-guest-author.html' title='Our Oven Timer (guest author)'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-778427997631055188</id><published>2008-11-21T13:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T13:40:49.658-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess I'm a fangirl</title><content type='html'>I went with a group of girlfriends to see the midnight showing of Twilight.  It was SO much fun!  I'll try to get pics up here, soon.  First of all, I haven't had a girls night out in FOREVER.  So, just getting out with the girls was fun.  I got new clothes for the first time in a long time, also.  I was have fun before even getting to the theater.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really  enjoyed the movie.  I mean really enjoyed the movie.  Parts of it bugged me and it seemed rushed.  But all in all, it was pretty good.  I ended up screaming, squealing, ooohing and aahing with the rest of them.  My friend, Angelyn (Ian's ballet teacher) was a last minute addition to the group.  One of the girls had sick family and couldn't come.  So, we lifted the "only if you've read the book" rule and invited Angelyn.  Even though, she clearly wasn't fully prepared for the experience of a midnight showing full of rabid fans, I think she enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm definitely going to have to see it again before I decide if Ian gets to see it.  I need to see it in a little less...uhm...hormonal atmosphere.  So, I guess I'm just forced to see it at least 3 times.  Life's rough. LOL  I'm not sure if I it will be as enjoyable for those that aren't fans of the book.  I hope so.  I'm now off in search of a screen shot of Emmett on the truck for my new wallpaper.  Forget Edward and Jacob.  I'm totally Team Emmett!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for New Moon in 2010!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-778427997631055188?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/778427997631055188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=778427997631055188&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/778427997631055188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/778427997631055188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2008/11/guess-im-fangirl.html' title='Guess I&apos;m a fangirl'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-2567885713961225678</id><published>2008-11-18T21:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T00:20:17.848-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am blessed.</title><content type='html'>I love my boys.  I have been very overwhelmed, lately- contemplating the possible positives of some species eating their young.  It's been a stressful few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents had another obligation, tonight.  So, I had to take Sammy and Rion to ballet with us.  William would normally pick them up and leave as soon as he got off work.  Tonight, he waited around to try to help us with a fried computer in the office.  So, the boys hung out for almost four hours at the ballet school while I worked and Ian had rehearsal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were incredibly civilized.  They didn't fuss at all, only asked for snacks a couple of times and didn't whine when I told them no.  They weren't running around or being the least bit noisy.   Rion even made it to the bathroom every single time!  There were parents from both Ft. Worth and Dallas campuses due to rehearsal.  The boys were very polite and friendly to everyone.  I received many complements on how cute and well behaved my children were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, it hit me... I've got really good kids.  Sure, they annoy me at times.  They fight with each other and tease each other.  They don't listen all too often.  The littlest one is currently obsessed with poop art.  But, when it all boils down, they're great, loving, polite little boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had really been dreading, tonight.  I was bracing myself for a horrible night.  It was a good night.  When all was said and done, I was given the much needed reminder of how blessed I really am.  My boys are great and my husband supports and assists me every chance he gets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Life is good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-2567885713961225678?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/2567885713961225678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=2567885713961225678&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/2567885713961225678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/2567885713961225678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-am-blessed.html' title='I am blessed.'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-3441334108892242609</id><published>2008-11-13T11:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T12:22:15.446-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged</title><content type='html'>Apparently, Ginney tagged me.  So, here I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rules: Answer the questions using only one word. Then tag others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Where is your cell phone? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;oblivion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Your significant other? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;smart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Your hair? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Your mother? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;caregiver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Your father? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;teasing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Your favorite thing? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;snuggles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Your dream last night? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;bizarre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Your favorite drink? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Dr. Pepper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Your dream/goal? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;happiness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The room your in?  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;cluttered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Your hobby? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;reading&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Worst fear? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;achluophobia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Where do you want to be in 6yrs? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. What you're not? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Supermom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Muffins? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Poppy-seed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. One of your wish list items? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;laptop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Where did you grow up? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Saginaw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. The last thing you did? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;school&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. What are you wearing? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;pjs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Favorite Gadget? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;PSP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Your pets? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;dead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Your computer? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;indispensable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Your mood? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;appreciative&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Missing someone? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Kelvin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Your car? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;running&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Something your not wearing? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;shoes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Favorite store? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;books&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Like someone? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;sure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. Your favorite color? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;green&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. When is the last time you laughed? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. When is the last time you cried? &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;yesterday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;Now, I tag Jeff and Kathy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-3441334108892242609?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/3441334108892242609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=3441334108892242609&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/3441334108892242609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/3441334108892242609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2008/11/tagged.html' title='Tagged'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-8161317744537626304</id><published>2008-11-10T15:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T15:45:12.873-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New level of motherhood</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;We went to the park with friends, today.  Rion- in all his burgeoning indepence- insisted on choosing his outfit.&lt;br /&gt;This is what he picked out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SRirZLxBCJI/AAAAAAAAADU/BOuD-jx77v4/s1600-h/front+cropped+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SRirZLxBCJI/AAAAAAAAADU/BOuD-jx77v4/s320/front+cropped+copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;His shirt is actually full body pajamas- the ones that are almost footy pjs. &lt;br /&gt;His pants are thermal pajama pants over the bottom of the first pjs.&lt;br /&gt;Topping off his ensemble are his Harley-Davidson boots.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SRirZncfxvI/AAAAAAAAADc/FNFdvFDTvYo/s1600-h/back+cropped.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SRirZncfxvI/AAAAAAAAADc/FNFdvFDTvYo/s320/back+cropped.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Note that his pants are on backwards. &lt;br /&gt;Isn't everyone wearing buttons up the middle of their backsides this season?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SRirZzKOvrI/AAAAAAAAADk/Y7u0NSKIy9g/s1600-h/boots.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SRirZzKOvrI/AAAAAAAAADk/Y7u0NSKIy9g/s320/boots.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;These are Rion's FAVORITE shoes.  They are at least 2 sizes too big.&lt;br /&gt;He would wear them to church if I let him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I feel I've reached a new level of motherhood.  I went out in public with my child dressed like this.  Some battles are simple not worth it.  Who's he going to hurt?  NOBODY!  Just going with it made him ecstatic and my day much smoother.  When the other boys started picking their own clothes, I gave them a couple of outfits to choose from.  They got to make decisions while still looking like normal human beings.  You know what?  The earth didn't fall apart when I let him do it all himself.  Interesting.&lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-8161317744537626304?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/8161317744537626304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=8161317744537626304&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/8161317744537626304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/8161317744537626304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-level-of-motherhood.html' title='New level of motherhood'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SRirZLxBCJI/AAAAAAAAADU/BOuD-jx77v4/s72-c/front+cropped+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6138022755742875554.post-3592315005893982938</id><published>2008-07-27T08:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T09:03:51.555-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beginning'/><title type='text'>Blogging 101?</title><content type='html'>Everyone seems to be blogging.  It seems like a great way to keep up with everyone's goings-on.  So, I'm going to try it.  My goal is to blog at least every Sunday.  I figure if I'm enjoying getting snippets of my friends' and family's lives, I should return the favor.  Wish me luck and any tips would be appreciated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6138022755742875554-3592315005893982938?l=madrebug.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/feeds/3592315005893982938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6138022755742875554&amp;postID=3592315005893982938&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/3592315005893982938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6138022755742875554/posts/default/3592315005893982938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://madrebug.blogspot.com/2008/07/blogging-101.html' title='Blogging 101?'/><author><name>MadreBug</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16777310660482949401</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6me-cvQRfao/SS7bkUZBVRI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8WUzB_j650Y/S220/fall+sweater+bust.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
