<?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-51662657147420546</id><updated>2012-02-14T18:12:48.728-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chatty &amp; The Beast</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>40</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-6610029551419314243</id><published>2012-02-14T17:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-14T18:12:48.740-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disney on Ice</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CGMqpYDKoUw/TzsUTGBpvrI/AAAAAAAAADI/CzXrEiiddKY/s1600/100_0105.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CGMqpYDKoUw/TzsUTGBpvrI/AAAAAAAAADI/CzXrEiiddKY/s320/100_0105.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709179270889848498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took Chatty to see Disney on Ice on 2/11/2012. Her father came with to drive (lets just say I was reminded why I left him) The show was great. It started with lunch from McDonalds.  At the show the first thing you walk in and see was all this great Disney stuff to buy. I was shocked at first when Chatty told me she didnt want anything. Of course that did not last long. She first picked Rapunzel hair. She got the hair and since my Beast was left at home, he was bought a sword to play with. Of course half way through the show she wanted a light up wand. I agreed since her dad was buying :)  The show included Princess Tiana, Cinderella, and Rapunzel. Of course Chatty's favorite was Rapunzel. I completely agreed since she was spinning in the air from her hair. She had a good time at the show and so did I. I love taking her to see stuff like this. She loves it and I do too :)&lt;br /&gt;We ended the night at Cracker Barrel one of her favorite places to go. I know why :) she loves to look at the shop. Of course she wants tons more stuff. But she already got enough so home we went.&lt;br /&gt;I do hope that next time Disney on Ice comes around we can go, maybe by then my Beast can come with us. Of course we will leave their father at home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-6610029551419314243?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/6610029551419314243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=6610029551419314243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6610029551419314243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6610029551419314243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2012/02/disney-on-ice.html' title='Disney on Ice'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CGMqpYDKoUw/TzsUTGBpvrI/AAAAAAAAADI/CzXrEiiddKY/s72-c/100_0105.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-7876399855404846000</id><published>2012-02-07T12:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-07T12:51:46.244-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bed Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It is a struggle each night to put my kids to bed. The Beast needs a guy and some water and his special comforter. Chatty needs water and me to lay with her and then to tell me 800 things. Last night was no exception the 6th sense my children were blessed with to behave badly when I am trying to sneak out of the house after they are tucked into bed. Last night my Beast of course didn’t want to go to bed, his back hurt so he wanted to sleep on the floor, his floor had stuff on it so he had to find his slippers and of course the best one of the night from my Beast was he had to finish his homework so he could not go to bed. And what kind of mother would I be putting my kid to bed without letting him finish his homework??? The kind of mother who knows her 2 ½ year old does not have homework.&lt;br /&gt;As the homework thing got worked out for the time being, my daughter was plotting ways we can chat more and in return getting her to stay up later. I do love my daughters imagination. But when she got up to ask me to become her teacher at school so we can be together more. I find it so sweet thinking of ways for us to be together but its bedtime so no I cant be you teacher all day and then put you to bed each night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-7876399855404846000?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/7876399855404846000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=7876399855404846000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7876399855404846000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7876399855404846000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2012/02/bed-time.html' title='Bed Time'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-1887714279622547562</id><published>2011-12-06T13:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T13:55:58.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My kid's Dad for a week</title><content type='html'>Why I want to be my kid’s Dad for a week:&lt;br /&gt;I want to be my kid’s dad just for a week, so he can really see how things are: working full time and being a full-time mother to 2 kids. And so I can do want I want:&lt;br /&gt;I want to stay up late and hang out with my friends&lt;br /&gt;I want to sleep in late on the weekends and not have anyone wake me up. Or lay in bed all day and watch TV&lt;br /&gt;I want to lie on the couch and watch TV on a big screen and watch whatever I want. No Scooby Doo or Victorious.&lt;br /&gt;I want to eat whatever I want, whenever I want: to go out for Chinese food&lt;br /&gt;I want to call people to bring me food&lt;br /&gt;I want do whatever I want to do, with no one else to worry about.&lt;br /&gt;I can then call my kids at random times and want to talk.&lt;br /&gt;I want to do fun stuff with my kids and not care how late they stay up&lt;br /&gt;I want to by the fun parent and not discipline my kids, and not get phone calls in regards to their behavior.&lt;br /&gt;I want to not have to get up extra early to get them both ready just so I can go to work&lt;br /&gt;I want to go shopping alone&lt;br /&gt;I want to just hop in my car and run a quick errands – whenever&lt;br /&gt;I want to go the bathroom alone. Take a hot bath and not have anyone knock on the door.&lt;br /&gt;I want to just worry about my self&lt;br /&gt;Just for a week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-1887714279622547562?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/1887714279622547562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=1887714279622547562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1887714279622547562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1887714279622547562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/12/my-kids-dad-for-week.html' title='My kid&apos;s Dad for a week'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-7544814637245609428</id><published>2011-07-12T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T09:45:52.192-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The ER</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;On Sunday night I was getting the Beast out of his bath and was drying him off. I got the comb ready and the q-tips because for some reason his ears are always gross. While I worked on cleaning out 1 ear ear, he was helping by sticking the end of my pointed comb in his ear. YIKES!!!! After crying for about 5 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt; he was fine. I still called the Dr's after hours and was told go the ER. It was the quickest ER trip ever, I was in and out in about 20 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt;. He has a scratched ear canal and is fine. Thank God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-7544814637245609428?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/7544814637245609428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=7544814637245609428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7544814637245609428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7544814637245609428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/07/er.html' title='The ER'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-7935416573560953280</id><published>2011-06-13T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T09:17:18.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Summer Bucket List</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;So, since my sister decided to make a blog about summer bucket lists, I decided I needed to do one also. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Have lots of picnics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Go to new parks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Lots of water play or swimming&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Go to a water park with Chatty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Tons of Zoo visits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Get caught up on Scrapbooking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Start my doll house project. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;(Or just find someone who will do it for me, I will pay)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Start organizing all my kids Baby stuff (and get rid of some stuff)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-7935416573560953280?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/7935416573560953280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=7935416573560953280' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7935416573560953280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7935416573560953280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-summer-bucket-list.html' title='My Summer Bucket List'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-4962804184988939241</id><published>2011-06-10T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T12:44:18.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Giving Thanks</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Not many times do I sit down and write what I am thankful for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Which I think that needs to change.&lt;br /&gt;So today I am very thankful for:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;1. Chatty is not sick anymore&lt;br /&gt;2. The Beast’s mouth sores are gone&lt;br /&gt;3. My sister who is done with her biopsy.&lt;br /&gt;4. My new bags from 31 bags (which I cant wait to get)&lt;br /&gt;5. My new purse organizer (which I cant wait to put in my new bags)&lt;br /&gt;6. My tuition assistant that came through&lt;br /&gt;7. I paid off my car insurance so I don’t have to pay till October 2012&lt;br /&gt;8. My new rain boots that kept my feet dry in the flood yesterday (a great b-day present from my kids)&lt;br /&gt;9. My niece who says “Hi Aunt Ann” in the sweetest little voice&lt;br /&gt;10. My 3 new bins I bought. How I love to organize :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-4962804184988939241?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/4962804184988939241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=4962804184988939241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/4962804184988939241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/4962804184988939241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/06/giving-thanks.html' title='Giving Thanks'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-615945727333124570</id><published>2011-05-10T06:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T06:43:47.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Joke</title><content type='html'>I dont really think my daughter is that funny but sometimes you cant help but laugh. Our coversation goes:&lt;br /&gt;Me: come on booger lets go&lt;br /&gt;Chatty: If I am a booger, than you are a nose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now why I cracked up at that is beyond me. Maybe it was the fact that I had a fantastic Mother's Day weekend with my children. I woke up with both my kids crawling into my bed. Chatty brought me the envelope she made at school with a pin inside with her picture in it. And then she helped the Beast make me a card, before he could even get out of bed. (he also made me one at daycare w/handprints) Plus I got a jewelry holder from the kids (which my mom did an awesome job picking out) Between the swim lessons, the play and cookout I could not have asked for a better weeked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-615945727333124570?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/615945727333124570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=615945727333124570' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/615945727333124570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/615945727333124570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/05/joke.html' title='The Joke'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-6042780104663446935</id><published>2011-03-28T12:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T12:11:42.504-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Glitter</title><content type='html'>Sunday afternoon during the Beast's nap time. I spent it doing stuff with Chatty. Apparently me reading my book was out of the question. I opened up her makeup she recieved from her little boyfriend at school (so cute) so then I got my makeup out and i put it on her while she helped me put mine on. I put glitter on my eyes. After the whole day of being together I wipe hers off before bed and wipe mine off. Here is our conversation: Chatty: you look pretty with glitter Me: thank you Chatty: you should wear that everyday I bet boys will like it and you can get a boyfriend and we can get a house of our own. Me: okay (not even knowing what else to say)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-6042780104663446935?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/6042780104663446935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=6042780104663446935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6042780104663446935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6042780104663446935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/03/glitter.html' title='Glitter'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-3903521488615878322</id><published>2011-03-20T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T18:44:43.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bouna Beef Part 2</title><content type='html'>Chatty's school had another fundraiser at Buona Beef this time around I made sure she would NOT have to wear her uniform (again). I leave work, grab the Beast and off we go. So happy we can eat at a restaurant with no melt down. Thinking my daughter would be in jeans and shirt. I wait for my parents and they pull up, I go help to get Chatty out and WTF????? Seriously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aeKs3jGtqd8/TYatb5dwbxI/AAAAAAAAAC0/XCo4hhJY1W4/s1600/STA63168%2B-%2BCopy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aeKs3jGtqd8/TYatb5dwbxI/AAAAAAAAAC0/XCo4hhJY1W4/s320/STA63168%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586343082593382162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J_FPI1w8QoI/TYasOSDsB1I/AAAAAAAAACs/zzf9WRmYWfU/s1600/STA63168.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-3903521488615878322?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/3903521488615878322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=3903521488615878322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/3903521488615878322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/3903521488615878322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/03/bouna-beef-part-2.html' title='Bouna Beef Part 2'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aeKs3jGtqd8/TYatb5dwbxI/AAAAAAAAAC0/XCo4hhJY1W4/s72-c/STA63168%2B-%2BCopy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-4746042126229348873</id><published>2011-02-24T08:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T08:46:12.202-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Vampire Bite</title><content type='html'>Most children bite, its when they are angry, frustrated, over tired, and many more reasons. I sent the Beast to daycare on Monday, I get a call at 10:30am. I need to go and pick him up. He bite 3 kids today and made one bleed. Oh, shit. I go and get him: he is happy as can be. Tuesday: another phone call: 2:10pm. He needs to be picked up again. This time he bite another kid while on top on her, holding her down. Well, now double shit. Wednesday: NO phone call :) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;YAY&lt;/span&gt;!!!!!! Thursday: he stayed home with my mom. 4 days down, one more to go. Lets pray I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; get another phone call on Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-4746042126229348873?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/4746042126229348873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=4746042126229348873' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/4746042126229348873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/4746042126229348873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/02/bite.html' title='The Vampire Bite'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-6831633393964955459</id><published>2011-02-15T07:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T07:48:06.331-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentines Day</title><content type='html'>I come home from work with a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;surprise&lt;/span&gt; waiting for me. My daughter has planned a surprise for me. The kitchen table is moved into the family room w/a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bouquet&lt;/span&gt; of flowers (which are not for me) a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;valentines&lt;/span&gt; table cloth and plates. Chatty tell me she is putting on a fashion show while the rest of us eat. After moving the table again, getting the Beast down off the same chair 5 times we finally sit down to eat. Chatty puts on her first dress: a pink sundress; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;second&lt;/span&gt; dress: Snow White; third dress: a red Christmas one (which is too short); fourth dress: a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;black&lt;/span&gt; witch and fifth and final dress: Belle. We all applaud and say what a wonderful job she did and vote which one was our favorite. Then she decides to play a game with her dresses. She lays them on the floor and then we close our eyes and she takes one away. We open our eyes and the pink one is missing. I call it out and my Dad goes: what pink one? So we have to play again and then again. Finally we let Reid loose and the game and fashion show ends. I think it was the best Valentine's Day &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;surprise&lt;/span&gt; I ever got.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-6831633393964955459?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/6831633393964955459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=6831633393964955459' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6831633393964955459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6831633393964955459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentines Day'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-6315037611239831522</id><published>2011-02-14T09:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T09:17:24.311-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Own Room</title><content type='html'>I live in a 3 bedroom house. 1 bedroom is my parents and me and my kids get divided into 2 rooms. Which actually doesn't work evenly. Here is why: #1) Chatty had her own room and me and Beast shared. #2) Chatty then realized she was ALONE (just in the next room) and she can't be alone #3) She started sleeping in the Beast's room and I got to sleep in her room, yet I would wake up and she would be will be since she still didn't want to completely sleep alone (yes, she would leave Beast to come in the bed w/me)  makes no sense to me. Now this past weekend she has decided to hang up posters and sleep in her own room. Which now leaves me on the couch since the Beast will wake up to my alarm and I don't need him up at 530am. So last night I sleep on the couch again which is killing my back (But, I'm doing this so my kids have their own room) and I wake up TWICE and both times guess who is on the couch w/me. Seriously? WTF? Now 2 beds are empty and I get to sleep on the couch. This is just ridiculous. I need a bed to sleep in ALONE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-6315037611239831522?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/6315037611239831522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=6315037611239831522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6315037611239831522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6315037611239831522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-own-room.html' title='My Own Room'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-6681155475565149054</id><published>2011-01-26T14:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T14:32:45.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Daycare</title><content type='html'>Its 4:24pm. I leave work at 5, most people are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;frickin&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ecstatic&lt;/span&gt; to leave this place they call work and go home. I on the other hand I  am afraid to leave. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;afraid&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; I have to go pick up my son from daycare. Where I have been talked to about 5 or more times about his behavior. He bites and he hits and he scratches. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not exactly sure what they now mean by saying they are going to monitor him. Could they make him leave? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not sure and the "person in charge" did not answer my questions of what can happen. I like to know what can happen in advance so I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; walk in to daycare and they say: "bye, please &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; bring him back" So now I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; even want to get him just because I am tired of being talked to. I can not talk to him about his issues since he is 18 months and usually agrees with what I say.... me: were you a good boy? the beast: "uh-huh. Which I now know is just a lie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-6681155475565149054?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/6681155475565149054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=6681155475565149054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6681155475565149054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6681155475565149054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/01/daycare.html' title='Daycare'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-7845813354163731822</id><published>2011-01-18T10:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T10:42:34.406-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Corey Feldman</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cigY_anTvpQ/TTXecBK-B1I/AAAAAAAAACc/GJfu89i9wYE/s1600/corey3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563597487618262866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cigY_anTvpQ/TTXecBK-B1I/AAAAAAAAACc/GJfu89i9wYE/s320/corey3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563597140521310514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cigY_anTvpQ/TTXeH0Im2TI/AAAAAAAAACU/8ICmVISU4Hs/s320/me%2526tim.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Me and my awesome sister&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This past weekend, Corey Feldman was only a drive away, hosting various movies that he had been in during the eighties. I just HAD to go. My sister bought us tickets to see The Lost Boys. It was the first vampire movie I ever saw, and one of my favorite movies of all time. After he signed autographs, he came into the theater showing the movie and talked a little bit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To be honest, I always loved Corey Haim more than Corey Feldman, but I still loved Corey F. He was pretty cute in person and seemed very nice. I only wish I had saved a Teen Beat magazine - it would have been nice to have him sign a poster that I had had up on my wall when I was younger. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-7845813354163731822?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/7845813354163731822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=7845813354163731822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7845813354163731822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7845813354163731822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/01/corey-felman.html' title='Corey Feldman'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cigY_anTvpQ/TTXecBK-B1I/AAAAAAAAACc/GJfu89i9wYE/s72-c/corey3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-1798327517262144806</id><published>2011-01-18T10:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T10:32:17.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fall</title><content type='html'>When you have kids and they fall you automatiacally go to them and make sure they are ok. Every time The Beast falls off the couch. I do go to him and make sure he is ok. Chatty is HIGHLY overdramatic about her falls and I usually end up carring her while she is sobbing. Yet on this freezing cold January morning, my daughter falls walking up to school. (you think they could buy salt on the amount of money I pay for her) I go to jump out of the car not even carring that the Beast would be left alone in my car ( i bet he wouldnt be kidnapped for long) yet she picks herself up and goes inside. Deep down I know I should go and check on her, but knowing my daughter she would have been mortified. So against my better judgement I didnt go inside school. I waited all day to hear if she was okay, I almost called the school. But I didnt want them to wonder why I didnt go in and check on her right away. Just to hear my baby tell me she didnt want me to go inside school anyway. So I actually did the right thing for my kid :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-1798327517262144806?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/1798327517262144806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=1798327517262144806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1798327517262144806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1798327517262144806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/01/fall.html' title='The Fall'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-86836842281850921</id><published>2011-01-11T09:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T10:04:40.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Buona Beef</title><content type='html'>I send my daughter to a private Catholic school. They sent home a flyer that 15% of the sales Buona Beef recieves will my donated to my daughters school. I think its great - maybe I will have to fork out less money in the near future. I have a nice idea to eat there. I pick up the Beast from daycare (where he was highly emotional and cried all the way to the resturant) and meet my parents and they have Chatty. Yet as Im waiting at the door for the family I notice my daughter is NOT getting out of the car. I make my way to the car wondering what the hell now? and she is crying, horribly sobbing say she cant go inside and eat....why? Cuz she has her school uniform on (that I paid lots of money for too) I hand the Beast off and grab Chatty by the coat and out of the car she comes. She is still crying and now she is beyond reasoning with. Take her inside and she wont budge from the door still crying about the uniform that she cant be seen in....yet she wears every day to school. She wont eat, just wants to stand by the door and cry which in my opinion makes her look way more dorky than the uniform. The Beast is now is high gear trying to walk around the resturant and he wants to eat! No amount of me yelling quietly will make her go and sit down. I give up! The end result: I order my salad and take the kids home&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-86836842281850921?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/86836842281850921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=86836842281850921' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/86836842281850921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/86836842281850921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2011/01/buona-beef.html' title='Buona Beef'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-1079295298986913982</id><published>2009-09-29T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T13:44:08.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>9/28/2009</title><content type='html'>I got home last night at 8pm. With one kid who coughs in your face is hungry and tired and dirty from wiping her face all day long. Touching me and her brother with her sticky hands. Then my little crabby baby, who just got 3 shots in his legs and is tired and hungry also. Yet after picking up the medication they need to stop being sick and crabby. I realize its 8pm, the bowl of cereal I grabbed at my parents isn’t holding me over, I have no clean bottles and there is still a huge pile of dust bunnies on my living room carpet. I ignore the bunnies since they have been there since Saturday when I certain some one thought it was dumb to vacuum since he convinced himself and me he would vacuum after installing our new window. I change into pajamas since I of course have spit up on my work shirt, and make a bowl of cereal: this of course temps Alexis. Now she wants one, fine no big deal until it ends up on my floor with her standing in it: And the best part: her shirt didn’t get wet. Not like I really care at that point since her pants and socks are covered in milk and frosted flakes. Jake strolls into the kitchen and of course yells at Alexis: I’m just grateful it’s not on my carpet with the bunnies. The dogs licking it, Jake is yelling and Lexi’s telling everyone her shirt isn’t wet. I leave and go into the living room and eat alone. I finish my cereal and go back to the kitchen to clean the mess that I know Jake didn’t, and Lexi is happily eating her new bowl of cereal. As I start to do the dishes since Reid is screaming, like he was getting the shots all over again, I have now realized Jake has decided to go to bed, since I have been yelling at him since I walked in the door to HELP!!!!!! If he actually was sleeping I would have been tempted to smother him with a pill instead I yell some more for him to get up and help. Now he can’t get Reid since he made it clear: Reid is NOT his responsibility. So now at that point I just want to pack up and leave, yet I can’t since that would require more work than I already have to do. So I get Lexi ready for bed, put her bed, ignore her demands of things she needs to sleep and try to calm Reid down, which is so dumb on my part since I do not have food in my hands, he could care less that I’m trying to calm him down so his face goes back to a normal color instead of a reddish/purple. So I leave him in the swing and start making bottles. Jake at this point must have gotten tired of the screaming since he finally picked up Reid, which in reality means; he has been screaming non-stop for at least a half an hour. I make bottles for him and put his pajamas on: I try to give him Tylenol thinking that might help, well of course the lid is stuck and then Jake decides to get involved and opens it. I end up dripping it on his pajamas and have to change him. Feed him a bottle which takes at least 45 mins since I don’t think he is actually hungry he just wants the bottle to drip formula into his mouth while he sleeps. Finally at 9:50 pm, he is done for the night. I still have dished to do, a kitchen to mop and bunnies that I know are looking at me while I feed Reid. So I do finish the dishes, mop the floor so there is no milk left on the ground, do a load of laundry, and make it in to bed at 1030. Only to wake at 500 am w/a hungry baby, a kid who is in my bed coughing, Jake snoring and an 80lb dog at the foot of my bed. . Reid then proceeds to fall back asleep while I heat up his bottle. So I wake him up, since he woke me up in the first place, feed him, get ready for work, make more bottles, get Lexi up and leave for another day at work. Make it through half the day, call and check on my kids only to hear what I already now: Reid is crabby and screaming (again) and Lexi is still coughing. But the topper? My mom asks where the diapers are since she has been telling me for a week she needs them.  I forgot was the reply, and she asked me how I forgot them. I really don’t know, but something has to change&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-1079295298986913982?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/1079295298986913982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=1079295298986913982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1079295298986913982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1079295298986913982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2009/09/9282009.html' title='9/28/2009'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-4713668435858594323</id><published>2009-09-23T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:27:12.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reid</title><content type='html'>So, once again I’m delayed on writing here. Reid Anthony was born July 19, 2009 at 7:45am, at 8lbs 8oz. I can’t believe now he is 2 months old and a thumb sucker. Other than trying to adjust to work a baby and my 4 year old, I’m just plain tired. And I don’t see it getting any better, yet on the 29th of September, maybe I'll get a break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-4713668435858594323?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/4713668435858594323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=4713668435858594323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/4713668435858594323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/4713668435858594323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2009/09/reid.html' title='Reid'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-5526103416737905863</id><published>2009-06-13T15:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T15:16:49.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forever ago</title><content type='html'>It has been forever since I posted and so much has changed. Im pregnant due July 23 w/a little boy who still doesnt have a name. My baby is a 4 year old w/an attitude. I changed jobs, which Im thankful that I still have one :) and I moved....AGAIN! I have a feeling that I wil be moving again, which comes to me as no big shock any more. Im just not happy with my living situation and only I can change it and make it better for myself and my kids... I'll be posting more soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-5526103416737905863?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/5526103416737905863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=5526103416737905863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5526103416737905863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5526103416737905863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2009/06/forever-ago.html' title='Forever ago'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-878891807520747332</id><published>2009-02-17T09:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T09:42:32.579-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Devil</title><content type='html'>I have decided the devil makes this little candy eggs called: "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;cadbury&lt;/span&gt; mini eggs" the reason the devil has to make is  the fact that they are so damn good. They only come out at Easter time and have a habit of always being bought and ate by me. Now the white are my favorite no reason since all those eggs taste the same. Its not like I need to eat these damn candies. In fact I should STOP buying them. But I cant and I wont: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; addicted&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-878891807520747332?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/878891807520747332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=878891807520747332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/878891807520747332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/878891807520747332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2009/02/devil.html' title='The Devil'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-4592488683150423190</id><published>2009-02-16T13:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T13:29:53.205-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its been a long time</title><content type='html'>It has been forever since I blogged. Not like anyone cares or reads it but I think for my own mental health I should. Im at a stand still in my life. Im not happy were Im at in my life. but have realized. I cant completely change it right now. I hate were I live and have decided I want MY OWN HOUSE!!! to live in. Just me and Lexi. Thats what I need in my life. I have never lived alone and I think I should. I thinkeveryone should be out on their own at one point in there life. According to some I would be able to handle it. But the damn truth is I dont make enough money. I never made alot of money and of course being in debt doesnt help. But its okay. something has to change soon. Right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-4592488683150423190?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/4592488683150423190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=4592488683150423190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/4592488683150423190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/4592488683150423190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2009/02/its-been-long-time.html' title='Its been a long time'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-8731741899094484997</id><published>2008-11-17T07:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T07:28:02.567-08:00</updated><title type='text'>37 Days</title><content type='html'>37 Days till Christmas and the Holiday season is out of control. I think the day after Halloween is a little extreme to start decorating your house. Just my personal &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;opinion&lt;/span&gt;. I did actually start my Christmas shopping and now Im done w/Alexis who once again got way more money spent on her than she should. But thats okay, she is spoiled and I know it. I have noticed that no one has seem to notice that Thanksgiving is only 11 days away. I think some how they have forgotten that. Forgotten to give thanks for the things in life they do have, not to look under the tree and see the things you dont need. I think people are truelly forgetting about what Christmas really means. And the meaning might be different for everyone but it shouldnt be about gifts. So I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving and is giving thanks for the things in life they have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-8731741899094484997?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/8731741899094484997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=8731741899094484997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/8731741899094484997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/8731741899094484997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/11/37-days.html' title='37 Days'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-8325495272160169765</id><published>2008-10-22T08:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T09:04:41.688-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10 years</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cigY_anTvpQ/SP9OdPWMLWI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NUPocLhVsag/s1600-h/shoes-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260009154034806114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cigY_anTvpQ/SP9OdPWMLWI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NUPocLhVsag/s320/shoes-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its been 10 years since I have graduated High School. Some days I feel that old and other days I still feel 18. Yet now that it had been that long I have come to realize that people &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; change from h&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;igh&lt;/span&gt; School. They still gossip and discuss you behind your back and make it seem they have never been in your shoes. Well, maybe you should step out of your shoes and try on a pair of mine. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; tell me you have never felt the way I have. D&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;on't&lt;/span&gt; tell me you have never wanted something out of your grasp. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; tell me you wont do things to make your self happy. Besides learning this again after 10 years. I have learned something even better. Make your self happy you only have one life to live and why spend it miserable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-8325495272160169765?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/8325495272160169765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=8325495272160169765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/8325495272160169765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/8325495272160169765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/10/10-years.html' title='10 years'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cigY_anTvpQ/SP9OdPWMLWI/AAAAAAAAAAY/NUPocLhVsag/s72-c/shoes-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-5057833232935045973</id><published>2008-10-16T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T07:19:51.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>$1.81</title><content type='html'>$1.81 x 5 days a week = $9.05 a week x 52 weeks a year = $470.60&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is how much money I spend a year on buying myself a large coke at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;McDonald's&lt;/span&gt; every day before I go to work. Do you know what I could seriously do w/that money. Besides putting it in savings. I could get a pedicure every month and still not spend as much. I could buy a new pair of jeans every month. The amount of stuff I could buy. But to be honest I know where my extra money would go.....right to Alexis' toy pile :) So starting tomorrow 10/17/08 No more large cokes in the morning....plus &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; sure my weight would love once less pop a day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-5057833232935045973?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/5057833232935045973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=5057833232935045973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5057833232935045973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5057833232935045973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/10/181.html' title='$1.81'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-2267668249286651398</id><published>2008-10-15T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T08:57:58.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lexi-ism</title><content type='html'>My daughter can come up w/the most amusing things to say. Last night @ dinner my mom and I were discussing Lexi's First Field trip to the pumpkin patch. She thinks she should go w/Lexi. And then my daughter told me: "Im 3 years old, I can go by myself." She wont even go to the bathroom alone yet she will go to a pumpkin patch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I make my daily phone call to my parents to find out what Lexi is up too. Then we have to have a whole conversation. Today it was a short one, it lasted about 7 mins. She asked is we were going some place special today, which we are not, but she wants to go to the mall. Then she informed me I need to borrow money from my work and take her to the mall so she can play. She is so smart she said we need free money and alot of it. Must be nice to have free money:) and alot of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus she told me we need Santa to come over to our house so she can show him this ice cream thing she wants. She saw it on TV, I told her to go watch a movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-2267668249286651398?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/2267668249286651398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=2267668249286651398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2267668249286651398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2267668249286651398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/10/lexi-ism.html' title='Lexi-ism'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-6067291695281080074</id><published>2008-09-09T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T08:59:54.299-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of School</title><content type='html'>Lexi's first day of school was September 2, 2008. She did so great. She wanted to play with the caslte they have there. She loves it. She really didnt seem to care that I left and when I went to pick her up she said she had fun and wanted to go back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s151.photobucket.com/albums/s125/lexismomo-07/?action=view&amp;amp;current=STA61685-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i151.photobucket.com/albums/s125/lexismomo-07/STA61685-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-6067291695281080074?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/6067291695281080074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=6067291695281080074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6067291695281080074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6067291695281080074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/09/first-day-of-school_09.html' title='First Day of School'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-5219344588991046929</id><published>2008-07-30T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T12:14:30.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty training</title><content type='html'>When I left to go to work on Monday Jul 28. I had a daughter who would get hysterical when I would ask her to sit on the toilet. the one day I put a diaper on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; I thought she was going to have a anxiety attack. I received the call at about 930 am, asking my to come get her. She was w/her father and she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; seem to like him anymore. I found out why. He ran out of diapers. I choose not to leave work early and bring her diapers. I figured he could deal w/it. Its was about time he took her anyway. Then the phone call come in around 10am. w/ a little voice saying; "i went pee" I sat at my desk in tears. I was so happy. My little girl went on the toilet. Not just once either. So when I went to pick her up after work I had a little girl w/no diapers and a big smile.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; happy that she has learned the toilet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; bad and she can actually sit on it. It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; a perfect system yet, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; okay. Im just actually thankful for her father for once.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-5219344588991046929?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/5219344588991046929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=5219344588991046929' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5219344588991046929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5219344588991046929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/07/potty-training.html' title='Potty training'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-2674214095011262730</id><published>2008-07-16T12:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T12:27:23.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FAT A$$</title><content type='html'>Its &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;official&lt;/span&gt;. I am fat. Yep, I tried to deny if for so long and it wont go away. I have been ignoring this problem for over 3 years. And I guess its time to stand up too it. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not even sure how to go about it. I know I drink too much pop, eat too much food. Yet, I have no control over any of this. Its like I go crazy and need more. In reality I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; need more food, I need less food and way less pop.&lt;br /&gt;Its terrible I found out I gain 10 lbs since Christmas and now barely any of my clothes fit. I hope they dont catch on at work that I wear the same clothes, week after week. Its so damn depressing. I sit here on my bum all day at work w/no exercise and then I have to go home do everything and still find time to exercise...WHERE???? I really just want to sit here and cry, but I think people would notice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-2674214095011262730?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/2674214095011262730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=2674214095011262730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2674214095011262730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2674214095011262730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/07/fat.html' title='FAT A$$'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-5634231295379643563</id><published>2008-06-04T08:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T12:34:34.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Great Dress Debate</title><content type='html'>Im so happy I had a girl, she loves my old Barbie dolls. We always have to change there clothes. So its no wonder she wears about 3-4 dresses a day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-5634231295379643563?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/5634231295379643563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=5634231295379643563' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5634231295379643563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5634231295379643563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/06/great-dress-debate.html' title='The Great Dress Debate'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-1831223924746390274</id><published>2008-05-28T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T09:40:39.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ballerina Girl</title><content type='html'>We went to my sisters for a cook out and the girl from next door was hanging over the fence talking to Lexi the conversation goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Girl&lt;/span&gt;: whats your name?&lt;br /&gt;Lexi: Alexis the ballerina girl&lt;br /&gt;Girl: I like your shoes&lt;br /&gt;Lexi: Thanks there ballerina shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lexi: would you like to see my ballerina dance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she proceeds to start dance around the backyard. No, ideas where she comes up w/this stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-1831223924746390274?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/1831223924746390274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=1831223924746390274' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1831223924746390274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1831223924746390274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/05/ballerina-girl.html' title='The Ballerina Girl'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-9004205939340173874</id><published>2008-05-16T13:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T13:57:52.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DUH!!</title><content type='html'>I  completely hate when I was going to write something and the thought slips right out of my head!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-9004205939340173874?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/9004205939340173874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=9004205939340173874' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/9004205939340173874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/9004205939340173874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/05/duh.html' title='DUH!!'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-8232237773331158205</id><published>2008-04-07T10:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T10:09:52.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>STUPID</title><content type='html'>I seriously have to be the most stupidest person in the world. Why did I honestly think he was going to change and have things be different. He was such a frickin ass this weekend. WHy?? Becuz of a hat, yep a stupid hat that I shouldnt have to pick up. But otherwise it will sit there till the end of time. So he can shove the hat right on up his ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should of listened to my gut and never went back. Cut my losses and stayed at my parents. Well, now I have had it. Im not a maid service to anyone especially people who cant pick up a flippin hat. So the way I see it, is that he made it clear he doesnt want to be w/me. So this time I will be packing up all my stuff and leaving for good. Im not going to do another damn thing for him. Screw him and his way of talking so I always look like the idiot. Fuck him and her. Im out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-8232237773331158205?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/8232237773331158205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=8232237773331158205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/8232237773331158205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/8232237773331158205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/04/stupid.html' title='STUPID'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-6240250278947038998</id><published>2008-03-20T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T12:51:17.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March Madness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Well, its the first day of Spring and they are talking about 9 inches of snow. I want to plant these tulips I saw in some ones front yard, not shovel my driveway. Lexi had a fabulous birthday and a wonderful birthday party. Why?? Cuz she deserves it. She also went and did awesome at the Dr's for her 3 year check up. Hopefully she will be that good when I take her to Childrens on April 1st. But, Im not holding my breath. I'm still in limbo over my life and its disgusting and I hate my life. I just dont know what to do, I think I do but I already know I wont do. I think Im going to give myself till April 1, 2008. Im not telling anyone thats how long they have to change or Im going to see a lawyer. That is just how it will be. But I really have to start sticking to it. I think that it should be: J should have Lexi's room done or almost done by April 1st. That should be enough time for a big dent into that room. At least if we got her room done I could clear out some shit in the basement. Maybe thats what I'll start doing on Saturday if J is actually working in the bedroom. DESTROY THE BASEMENT. I think that would be fun. Its just like a dog chasing her tail, thats how I feel. Run, Run, Run and you never catch anything.&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/51662657147420546-6240250278947038998?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/6240250278947038998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=6240250278947038998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6240250278947038998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6240250278947038998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/03/march-madness.html' title='March Madness'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-7760985752078658307</id><published>2008-01-25T14:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T12:35:23.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Reminder</title><content type='html'>If you love someone please tell them before its too late. And if you stop loving them, let them know also. It will be much appreciated in the long run. Thanks alot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-7760985752078658307?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/7760985752078658307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=7760985752078658307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7760985752078658307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/7760985752078658307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/01/reminder_25.html' title='A Reminder'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-2794155672144923515</id><published>2008-01-22T08:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T09:01:47.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Laziness</title><content type='html'>I have come to realize how lazy I am. Not the fact that I sit on the couch all day, the fact that I'm to lazy to change my life around. And make myself happy. Now instead of complaining about how life is unfair and I hate my life, you would think I would start to change it. Nope, not I. That's why I am LAZY. And its starting to disgust myself. I keep saying this is my year, just like the past 15 years, yet nothings changes. I live to be miserable I guess. Why do I put myself thru this. No one can change me, I need to change myself. I have made yet another list to get to the root of why I am unhappy and yet most of it is because Im to lazy to change. I have good intentions, I just dont follow thru. Yet I always give good advice to people on how to change their lifes. Yet instead of taking my own advice, I do nothing but be miserable. Why do I do this, I ask myself. I dont know why I dont change, its not like I need to do alot to change, just small things. Like working out and quit drinking so much damn pop. Do I stop drinking the pop and exercise. No, Im too depressed to get out of bed in the morning and exercise. How sad has my life become. Ok, enough complain....Im off to change :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-2794155672144923515?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/2794155672144923515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=2794155672144923515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2794155672144923515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2794155672144923515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/01/laziness.html' title='Laziness'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-2860093156016529526</id><published>2008-01-02T09:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T09:15:54.924-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2008</title><content type='html'>Happy New Year. I cant believe its 2008, what happened to 2007. Well this has to be my year. I had a horrible New Years Day and I am refusing to spend 2008 miserable and fat. Things have to change and no one can do that for me, but myself. So I started my New Year on 01/02, I havent done anything special or anything Im just trying not to be so miserable and depressed. I should be grateful and I am about certain things. Im just tired of living the way I do. Its to complicated to explain how f-ed up my life is. So Im not going to complain any more Im just going to change it. And if hes not on the ride then I guess he will be left behind. And that is that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-2860093156016529526?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/2860093156016529526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=2860093156016529526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2860093156016529526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2860093156016529526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2008/01/2008.html' title='2008'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-6806673936267841857</id><published>2007-12-18T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T12:08:45.149-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Spirit</title><content type='html'>Where did my Christmas spirit go? I seem to have it w/Lexi and as long as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; away from home, its there. Yet as soon as I walk &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; that door. I lose it..mostly because he enjoys making my life miserable. He is just  a miserable person and chooses to help me get out of the Christmas spirit. Its all a big fight and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; sick of him and this going no where non existence relationship. I should of never bought that house w/him. I always end up making the most stupidest mistakes. And Im sick of it and Im sick of him and Im sick of having a crappy Christmas season, because of him. Im sick of it all, nothing ever changes w/us and I know he will never change. So I guess its up to me to change and if I change that much...I will have to leave him. Im sure he really doesnt care either way. He is not good for me, why could I see this before..I think I always knew, I was tired of being alone and I wanted someone...Someone like my Dad and my BIL, who help out around the house, who cooks and cleans and doesnt expect something in return. He does one thing around our house, he expects a damn reward. WTF???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes just wish Christmas was over, how sad is that. Its my most favorite time of the year. It just feels ruined this year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-6806673936267841857?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/6806673936267841857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=6806673936267841857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6806673936267841857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/6806673936267841857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-spirit.html' title='Christmas Spirit'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-1438999684208060038</id><published>2007-12-03T09:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T10:01:37.861-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December</title><content type='html'>Its Christmas time again and Im not really in the Holiday spirit. Which is no surprise. Yesterday morning before I left for church I was sitting on the floor waiting for Lexi's Monster movie to rewind. She came up behind me and Said: dont worry, its okay. And for the first time I believed everything was going to be okay. I have been praying that things change for the better and I feel them coming. Althou, nothing will ever be perfect. I have to find a way to see beyond the imperfections and accept the good things in my life. Lexi is getting so big and you never know what will come out of her mouth. Its just one thing after another and I love it. Maybe I am starting to get into the Holiday spirit. I need some good cheer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-1438999684208060038?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/1438999684208060038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=1438999684208060038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1438999684208060038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/1438999684208060038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2007/12/december.html' title='December'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-5740973600926651698</id><published>2007-09-14T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T08:46:19.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Flies</title><content type='html'>Did you ever sit back and think the world is passing you by..while you are waiting for something to happen. I woke up today and realized the summer was over and I was bummed. I wanted to play outside w/Lexi some more, I wanted to swim in the pool some more, I wanted to do many things and I feel I have done nothing. Its just upsets me since I felt so busy and rushed all summer long, and really in the end nothing was accomplished. We are moving now and thats just more stress on me. More things to rush, less time w/Lexi. It always seems to be something. One thing or another that keeps making me feel like Im stuck w/no where to go. I just hope after moving everything starts to work out for me and Lexi. So we can play outside some more, go for walk do all the things I wanted to do w/her this summer. I'm tired of rushing I just want to enjoy my life but it keeps flying by. Some one made a comment about how I cant wait for Lexi to grow up and thats not true I would love to keep my little baby. I would love to do it all over again. And not make the mistakes I did. Spend more time holding her instead of cleaning and just spend more time w/her and forget the rest.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-5740973600926651698?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/5740973600926651698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=5740973600926651698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5740973600926651698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/5740973600926651698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2007/09/time-flies.html' title='Time Flies'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51662657147420546.post-2525328538371182780</id><published>2007-09-06T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T14:04:27.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A HOUSE</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Well, we finally got a house. Jake and I bought it together, our closing date isn't untill Sept 28, but that gives us plenty of time to pack. Its 3 bedrooms upstairs so Lexi-girl gets a playroom to stuff all her toys in. And in the basement there is another bedroom that is going to be my office. Im so excited finally a place all to myself to scrapbook and work on all my other projects. Lexi is excited she wants to go to the new-new house already. The one night she told me to go get her shoes and I said "why" and she said "go new-new house" I think she will be happy there w/a big back yard to run around in. Its about time she will have a nice backyard. And a garage w/an electric opener so we can get her toys out anytime we want. There is sidewalks to, so we can start going for walks after dinner. There is even a school w/a huge playground for her to play on. I cant wait. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/51662657147420546-2525328538371182780?l=ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/feeds/2525328538371182780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=51662657147420546&amp;postID=2525328538371182780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2525328538371182780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/51662657147420546/posts/default/2525328538371182780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ann-itsallaboutus.blogspot.com/2007/09/house.html' title='A HOUSE'/><author><name>Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05560360192155526497</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
