tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59832321765676827012024-03-12T21:43:36.060-07:00Chaos and MotheringUncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-80136497117451887052011-03-25T08:24:00.000-07:002011-03-25T08:34:19.062-07:00Andrea's Hair<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Andrea's pretty hair...<br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE2iEbcXwh86iEjmLKHa3l1Yx_VFi4dVjhLBBPDtiS8tfNrpVtYdUM0t-obqzyQzj4LHnFUP5eoTpbkY7ELyCRioeybWoOwkAuG65W3Rl49O6pxn5XbYiq1V_hnig5zJcuEYBXbmyzYFQ/s1600/DSCN0418.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE2iEbcXwh86iEjmLKHa3l1Yx_VFi4dVjhLBBPDtiS8tfNrpVtYdUM0t-obqzyQzj4LHnFUP5eoTpbkY7ELyCRioeybWoOwkAuG65W3Rl49O6pxn5XbYiq1V_hnig5zJcuEYBXbmyzYFQ/s400/DSCN0418.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588039453227509058" border="0" /></a><br />Andrea let me use a curling iron on her hair to create this feathery look. Finally I can reap the rewards of having a little girl. When I was a little girl I loved playing with dolls and it has been really hard not to play with her too much and let her choose her own clothes. Luckily, right now she is really into <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">PINK</span>! She is just the sweetest little thing.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-23380850679092583622011-01-09T16:27:00.000-08:002011-01-09T17:07:55.139-08:00Andi's Big Day<div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWXMl84W57HqPs9qY93Uu_V-ag8TAspVrsmDV8rto9yFt85AYvG6EpF1kXmQSJn4cL-NYzTKebK7OccjiW0dLB3SYtMefgVMZJDxVKT4cOQyzR_SvAuP_N6Xys8s_lx8M7AUZeqkCGOwQ/s1600/DSCN0315%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWXMl84W57HqPs9qY93Uu_V-ag8TAspVrsmDV8rto9yFt85AYvG6EpF1kXmQSJn4cL-NYzTKebK7OccjiW0dLB3SYtMefgVMZJDxVKT4cOQyzR_SvAuP_N6Xys8s_lx8M7AUZeqkCGOwQ/s320/DSCN0315%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560351309628827554" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2V23PHiPxQkuMPoKPAA2Nu4xzpA5v7qClBirSnA5bP1KQh2PoV-pBOSK0RMHGVd7WulioLQD7rULFbJmCnhjQeH0ONiNPCC2kWDtOZQvNxiQF9uRGA85bksUgtvlV9ITM1Z3XC2C02o/s1600/DSCN0331%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2V23PHiPxQkuMPoKPAA2Nu4xzpA5v7qClBirSnA5bP1KQh2PoV-pBOSK0RMHGVd7WulioLQD7rULFbJmCnhjQeH0ONiNPCC2kWDtOZQvNxiQF9uRGA85bksUgtvlV9ITM1Z3XC2C02o/s320/DSCN0331%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560351307408051826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdMm7jO2hW2G_o97Lf585m8qA4L8iSJK-lkqtXM4lyFlpsNIkltVfyAUClHQai3NFU-w7eG6sUNkWuShz9VC9PWwQV1Lc2q4ehgwXn3M5Y9DCq7XxI53l_uDpjRiC60DUkgoiNk7i4jvE/s1600/DSCN0300%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdMm7jO2hW2G_o97Lf585m8qA4L8iSJK-lkqtXM4lyFlpsNIkltVfyAUClHQai3NFU-w7eG6sUNkWuShz9VC9PWwQV1Lc2q4ehgwXn3M5Y9DCq7XxI53l_uDpjRiC60DUkgoiNk7i4jvE/s320/DSCN0300%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560351299856496754" border="0" /></a><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyxTV4Kf28hBT-u0utDIr4zutebHwIZ4WZeLW5MQ1obze0hOgmXK_xQPjC_V71DNF6ov_d0CD9K67lNsb9XPg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);">Andrea got to celebrate her Birthday at her Grandparent's house. There was a big fancy cake, a Birthday Dora doll, one crazed brother/guest, and it began to snow. What more could my tender two year old Princess ask for?<br /><br /></span></span></span></span>Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-5082463060533564462011-01-09T16:09:00.000-08:002011-01-09T16:16:39.378-08:00Freedom!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzN9h2rGIkIHirJREpD66EPxqhC6qmgVYg8TURYKaPR-votNaXOP5ggOdFVq6QyZU47DB667Vjz45RC-wQ9GhZwMlCGpi-MJ2uFb1C7eqNQY6ZDklxpJGr6IZdXgl9oXcagjjGbecTn_w/s1600/DSCN0263%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzN9h2rGIkIHirJREpD66EPxqhC6qmgVYg8TURYKaPR-votNaXOP5ggOdFVq6QyZU47DB667Vjz45RC-wQ9GhZwMlCGpi-MJ2uFb1C7eqNQY6ZDklxpJGr6IZdXgl9oXcagjjGbecTn_w/s400/DSCN0263%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560343382906923202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Nick and I got to enjoy a four day vacation to Denver and Winter Park. The kids went on Vacation to see their uncle with Grandma and Grandpa. We got to enjoy adult life without Burger King Playplace. We ate at some great restaurants (pictured is Duffy's Cherry Cricket as featured on Man vs. Food). Nick did some skiing and I did some falling. We enjoyed a wonderful New Years Eve in front of the fireplace in our hotel room. (Thank you very much Hampton Inn.) It was a wonderful much needed break.</span></span></span>Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-16266173644193125362011-01-09T15:49:00.000-08:002011-01-09T16:09:46.408-08:00Christmas Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljXkxFuQ_A9N-q3Jo1CfK7wpSe71esXtmss-5iRfhFjdW_Ay9URvk_cRq9dQjShyuaf1cS-fNhHOVfi_tnYy52QAvxQJfqjqwY7UOmLfVeeMhArxeW3oAo_jdToOoC65XrciFKGKEIqE/s1600/DSCN0039%255B2%255D"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljXkxFuQ_A9N-q3Jo1CfK7wpSe71esXtmss-5iRfhFjdW_Ay9URvk_cRq9dQjShyuaf1cS-fNhHOVfi_tnYy52QAvxQJfqjqwY7UOmLfVeeMhArxeW3oAo_jdToOoC65XrciFKGKEIqE/s200/DSCN0039%255B2%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560341139054028834" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMe32y3ixn0oNz7U0FSp2gYFns4QZT8ru61OupGqhXCfJIA8t_XxdH5oq8YfblX_gkPGxm6J9Tvroup-e7Y40JerQ7s-vOQgHrQxW_lAgMJwFkkgDuQfnK6D5E3M9D0SU823Y2sYnJIlQ/s1600/DSCN0114%255B1%255D"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMe32y3ixn0oNz7U0FSp2gYFns4QZT8ru61OupGqhXCfJIA8t_XxdH5oq8YfblX_gkPGxm6J9Tvroup-e7Y40JerQ7s-vOQgHrQxW_lAgMJwFkkgDuQfnK6D5E3M9D0SU823Y2sYnJIlQ/s200/DSCN0114%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560341137456533154" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOdiMiWwlWqvxHeyZXXFzhLV2SCDV1ohjYGtZ2Jl0E2Avqs7DIwa_2Sisu_vr1Yd4N4IuCHFRu0SXwqdcpYX6owH-AebT1em9ivSwRaiLeYuJykHUtAgUFQjbBa6DaWC7nFLqUb8bHGQ/s1600/DSCN0046%255B1%255D"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOdiMiWwlWqvxHeyZXXFzhLV2SCDV1ohjYGtZ2Jl0E2Avqs7DIwa_2Sisu_vr1Yd4N4IuCHFRu0SXwqdcpYX6owH-AebT1em9ivSwRaiLeYuJykHUtAgUFQjbBa6DaWC7nFLqUb8bHGQ/s200/DSCN0046%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560341130401528898" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BtflRZg8JXgA0DJj9ZzyMKLXjwqWMCIVU7lbUGsd3Q15gf4of-Cka6pUXStUKuHcqrB1lOQZ5SOFNg4op1Z5R1RgtSvg5UTSnp0IEH6v6BYmC-DO6whTTou69JeTAbiY4dRLTb3MtHg/s1600/DSCN0023%255B2%255D"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BtflRZg8JXgA0DJj9ZzyMKLXjwqWMCIVU7lbUGsd3Q15gf4of-Cka6pUXStUKuHcqrB1lOQZ5SOFNg4op1Z5R1RgtSvg5UTSnp0IEH6v6BYmC-DO6whTTou69JeTAbiY4dRLTb3MtHg/s200/DSCN0023%255B2%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560341128809382322" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZ_3mkjfzTUO427bRQWInBrGs6h_I9KMH89QuzTPQKrt1hh57N48hf1U2A5dFK8DyF7cDDdetBmD1mNxnFHq9imX6KQJ36_Upz-xgJvcVd7ePZHmsBPYflGK97IxMGHbioGaK0vWyZPQ/s1600/DSCN0114%255B1%255D"><br /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Christmas was a busy day. Andrea opened her present with her mouth. She dropped her pants in the middle of unwrapping her gifts from Santa. Wyatt was making trouble picking on his cousins and got a time out while everyone else opened their gifts and had to open his after everyone was done. <br /><br />I got the best gift a mommy could ever have... a brand new camera. Maybe I will do a better job of documenting their childhood, (maybe). <br /></span></span>Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-81656832113954142712010-12-28T10:38:00.000-08:002010-12-28T10:47:55.766-08:00Mewy Titi Yiyts (Merry Christmas)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4b9zYZLAUDHgvmfEB7jCL9gv64_UqfurMB5Z8PQLKRczZkBsl1fei1JKrcyTWiZY4z24mTj31B57Y4JGqSjWkI7fSoDMQ3bOI3noVsjbA4SjSsqS8ptJOJcqPcAxUc_GBlrEXMHUNaU/s1600/DSCN0116.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4b9zYZLAUDHgvmfEB7jCL9gv64_UqfurMB5Z8PQLKRczZkBsl1fei1JKrcyTWiZY4z24mTj31B57Y4JGqSjWkI7fSoDMQ3bOI3noVsjbA4SjSsqS8ptJOJcqPcAxUc_GBlrEXMHUNaU/s320/DSCN0116.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555805845301501250" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD5ZOOnfgkO4uLbJi5VH967yGaMiHy1mcD6ZhZShiAiQhyYIkjEgroKpm_wmVeK1lyMA-87r2b-qVM6in2P7FepCB-XeJA2LvvkX85Jc8RZLslEqtoe9o4N8wFxrIDTG1sZdE8tBFhxys/s1600/DSCN0097.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD5ZOOnfgkO4uLbJi5VH967yGaMiHy1mcD6ZhZShiAiQhyYIkjEgroKpm_wmVeK1lyMA-87r2b-qVM6in2P7FepCB-XeJA2LvvkX85Jc8RZLslEqtoe9o4N8wFxrIDTG1sZdE8tBFhxys/s320/DSCN0097.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555805839246179730" border="0" /></a>Christmas is a great time to appreciate your family. The kids are right at the perfect age where they open gifts and are excited about what is in the packages. I'll try to post more later on.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-50482393487909875582010-11-19T06:57:00.001-08:002010-11-19T07:05:36.320-08:00Time Out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTjM383NAcG0N-JiaaSxAit8ZmJiV_d9WFMca9llxnxIRiPqthM0qbHTBTqrK7vKaOed795SZ4L_LwzWHQpyVWM6HdpJvCeo0jW-yVr3voGGMlvLoPfcC_MaGxIOSOcjjgKkgi4uxIM4/s1600/100_1042.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTjM383NAcG0N-JiaaSxAit8ZmJiV_d9WFMca9llxnxIRiPqthM0qbHTBTqrK7vKaOed795SZ4L_LwzWHQpyVWM6HdpJvCeo0jW-yVr3voGGMlvLoPfcC_MaGxIOSOcjjgKkgi4uxIM4/s320/100_1042.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541275433260187906" border="0" /></a><br />So my sweet little girl has been a whirlwind of activity today. I wake up to her dumping her potty seat deposit into the toilet bank. (So a Big yea to her using the potty independently.) Then she decides she must dress herself, which means a strange amalgamation of shirts and diapers, but no pants or skirts.<br /><br />Her birthday is in January, but the twos have begun. Along with all of the exciting milestones there are incredible frustrations (on her part and mine.) Hopefully I will get through this with my sanity intact.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-90670512374000918442010-11-17T13:01:00.000-08:002010-11-17T13:02:59.039-08:00New nameI renamed my blog. Mainly because it has been used, and thus was difficult for me to Google it and find it. We'll see. It seems appropriate for now.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-69471628078741816842010-11-17T12:54:00.000-08:002010-11-17T12:58:57.318-08:00Halloween<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4gWAy-O4fbLY3LZVa-3WP-eFdbyIvmXqkollPl73WX8wqPI-jTyZRqiSNCws-TIJZxXDrFq-izwIFyzNtw4TKDevnLlY9ybG2UG3eEafmakX53hGzZuDcTELT2ufE4IFDk02mP2xyT4/s1600/100_1028.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4gWAy-O4fbLY3LZVa-3WP-eFdbyIvmXqkollPl73WX8wqPI-jTyZRqiSNCws-TIJZxXDrFq-izwIFyzNtw4TKDevnLlY9ybG2UG3eEafmakX53hGzZuDcTELT2ufE4IFDk02mP2xyT4/s200/100_1028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540625355516252034" border="0" /></a>Halloween at our house. My son is not only dressed as Spiderman, but actually believes he is Spiderman.<br />My girly girl was an adorable little duck, and got several ooohs and aaahs for her costume.<br />Lots of candy for all, (mainly Mom and Dad who eat most of it when kids aren't watching), and a great time dressing up.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-48621378415606572822010-11-17T12:36:00.000-08:002010-11-17T12:40:53.160-08:00What is that?<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">You may look at this picture and wonder... What is that? It is Nick's insurance card inside of our toaster. We don't know how long it has been there, but the heat has made it curl at the edges. I had to do quite a bit to get it out of there. It involved a phillips head screw driver, tweezers, and a pocket knife.</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5Ufk4HcITL_O95TSBvmf08jzw2YdWmiY_4OwHd7a8gEN6djxF_X3_2NDIFzHaqDY8aiLwYUj810qo-ARwxKTYjts34wt_4A4kuYQxVeUFj7fm979mFLgoxgU1Y-r49WyOrm_dOTKkkc/s1600/100_1040.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5Ufk4HcITL_O95TSBvmf08jzw2YdWmiY_4OwHd7a8gEN6djxF_X3_2NDIFzHaqDY8aiLwYUj810qo-ARwxKTYjts34wt_4A4kuYQxVeUFj7fm979mFLgoxgU1Y-r49WyOrm_dOTKkkc/s200/100_1040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540620578898616594" border="0" /></a>Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-54037654783344763682010-11-17T12:26:00.000-08:002010-11-17T12:35:18.361-08:00What Happened to My Mascara?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTH8zI-Nex287YFmk4gftROHReeXLmc2mP-ckcoMpAfEUOlEehjNYMjliWdW5v7esQiVn27Bd_X6H6rrypXjA-qY_FWRRJlQIcIKRjAyj4QJdzNOWfE1fP-FiXptMw3g1zyirpX8CLiLI/s1600/100_1015.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTH8zI-Nex287YFmk4gftROHReeXLmc2mP-ckcoMpAfEUOlEehjNYMjliWdW5v7esQiVn27Bd_X6H6rrypXjA-qY_FWRRJlQIcIKRjAyj4QJdzNOWfE1fP-FiXptMw3g1zyirpX8CLiLI/s200/100_1015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540618494241028866" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio8MMWfSKfgz9DtDY-O0EfHjTcXpOR_V0cuX0s69d4YISlZ_xTiMKAib7gb3XvgcqscVRjIp8j60BUsP8L96U1pl6IGsvSmRr1rdfK0ZaQM5ZI_rXobRTFwJrBJJVfJoSiUG5XsIYSzTw/s1600/100_1012.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio8MMWfSKfgz9DtDY-O0EfHjTcXpOR_V0cuX0s69d4YISlZ_xTiMKAib7gb3XvgcqscVRjIp8j60BUsP8L96U1pl6IGsvSmRr1rdfK0ZaQM5ZI_rXobRTFwJrBJJVfJoSiUG5XsIYSzTw/s200/100_1012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540618480795519666" border="0" /></a>Sometimes I ask myself, "When can I have my life back." When will I be able to put on my clothes without kids walking in to gaze at my unclothed body. When will I be able to wear something without a two year old wiping her nose on it. When will I be able to know that my make up is safe when I put it away in it's case four feet from the floor. <br /><br />This is the point when the experienced mothers snicker and think to them selves. "Silly girl, what did you think would happen when you had kids." <br /><br />Well my beloved, princess decided to put on some mascara just like Mommy. Yes, my dear, this is very similar to what mommy looks like with mascara on. INTO THE BATH SHE GOES!Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-46683456199678479852010-08-17T11:49:00.001-07:002010-11-17T12:48:29.248-08:00Things to remember When my kids grow up.So I'm driving down Grand street (one of the four main streets in Haysville) and I see a teen aged girl walking on the sidewalk wearing a hooters t-shirt. The plain white tee with the orange logo. I think to myself. "No way am I letting Andi do that junk when she gets older." So I think to myself about this list of things I say "No way" to now and what I'll do when I get to that point.<br />I have decided to write out my "No way" list.<br /><br />1. No boyfriends/girlfriends staying the night at our house. (I'll pay for a motel if I have to.)<br />2. No staying the night at the boyfriends/girlfriends house. (Believe that I will be there to get my kid.)<br />3. No degrading clothing. (Playboy bunnies, shorts that don't cover the bottom, rude logos, or cleavage tops)<br />4. No disrespecting adults. (rude comments, or snide remarks.)<br />5. No cussing.<br />6. No staying out late with other kids unless with an adult in a safe environment.<br />7. No fighting. (Physical or Verbal)<br />8. No bullying.<br /><br />I'm on my way to being the uncool mom who's children whine to about what their peers get to do, but I want to raise my children to be good people with morals and self respect. Not because I want to control them, but because I love them and want them to be extraordinary.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-37226324819004890232010-08-11T11:08:00.000-07:002010-08-11T11:17:07.512-07:00Wild ChildAndrea has made the decision that she must be free from her diaper. My beloved mother thinks that this means Andrea is ready to potty train. One hitch, she doesn't want the diaper and she doesn't understand the potty. She is constantly disrobing and running about naked and getting into everything. Oh, if only I had a nanny. <br />She will leave on her cloth dipes longer than Nick's disposables he bought the other week. This means 5 minutes to half and hour. <br />Wish I had a picture to post, unfortunately Nick has put the camera away again and this means I won't find it for weeks. Well you can imagine, onesie open at the bottom and baby lady parts exposed.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-38251655247659450512010-07-28T21:23:00.000-07:002010-11-17T12:53:01.605-08:00Whatever You Do Don't SneezeAs a mother you take some things for granted. The occasional horrendous stain on your shirt from Lord knows what. The pile of dishes that can reach the ceiling. Leaving laundry in a basket for over a week. But I never anticipated throwing my back out.<br /><br />The first time I did it I knew why. Picked up the baby at a bad angle and strained my back. It was the second time that threw me for a loop.<br /><br />I am walking into my local video store with Andrea on my hip. I enter the store and sneeze...<br />I feel a snap in my lower back and pain shoots through my spinal cord. I put Andrea down and lower myself to my hands and knees. I manage to get into as sitting position as my children run amok among the aisles. I pull myself together and hobble out of the store, despite very serious considerations of having the staff call an ambulance. <br /><br />I barely made it home, and had to take some pretty serious meds to get back to normal.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-56941285708978388692010-07-15T12:18:00.000-07:002010-07-15T12:34:30.490-07:00Offspring (An Introduction)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrZ6BnP2Dje1ZPMim4AExygIdpOCYcScXU1agUP6uk1HJBS8URl3xBxTpdG4A9BIZh791ujuXno92y7ojRibjJPB8zzyYqAeiMVpWcwGZqsFtKETlAa6bPCQTy6Yb41ZZt6gDizDABuM/s1600/100_0700.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrZ6BnP2Dje1ZPMim4AExygIdpOCYcScXU1agUP6uk1HJBS8URl3xBxTpdG4A9BIZh791ujuXno92y7ojRibjJPB8zzyYqAeiMVpWcwGZqsFtKETlAa6bPCQTy6Yb41ZZt6gDizDABuM/s320/100_0700.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494215574069192754" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWh5WmVbhFk3BaF0R8xRxtrG6No9uJ0LeelGa7ZsMVWukUGRzHelDSGHFxnbfbYYiYjvNRmgWbqpJ32ybEJhr-0oqFvE1LRVqjM5wB5TJTDQivCl-nOY85CnEHrPJBPSqr491SJT_3joM/s1600/100_0681.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWh5WmVbhFk3BaF0R8xRxtrG6No9uJ0LeelGa7ZsMVWukUGRzHelDSGHFxnbfbYYiYjvNRmgWbqpJ32ybEJhr-0oqFvE1LRVqjM5wB5TJTDQivCl-nOY85CnEHrPJBPSqr491SJT_3joM/s320/100_0681.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494215568773058082" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Here are my children. When I was younger in school I thought that I was uncool. I hung out with friends and participated in school activities that I thought were "uncool". Then I graduated and went to college. I was in several activities and I was a pretty good student. Then I got married and we had friends over and hosted parties. The entire time I considered myself less than popular. But having kids changes everything. Going out to parties, conversation, purchasing clothing all become child-centric. No longer do you drop everything to go out with your friends for dinner. Now you have kids, it definitely ups the ante on your uncoolness.<br />Now I spend my time watching cartoons and eating peanut butter and jelly. At times you miss wearing clothing you have purchased in the last year and styling your hair. Though I have to say I love being a mom.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5983232176567682701.post-68045269199366360582010-07-14T09:41:00.000-07:002010-07-14T09:51:00.691-07:00Starting a BlogSo I decided to start a blog, mainly because my mother has and this makes her cooler than me. Thus this adds to the list of many ways that I am uncool. So I embrace the it, and acknowledge the aspects of my nature that make me perpetually uncool. <br />So here it begins, my blog. Don't worry it's not going to be cool.Uncool Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425364060532006551noreply@blogger.com1