<?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-1808987536437178991</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:48:08.501-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shades of Motherhood</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-8453865698905452569</id><published>2009-04-02T18:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T19:16:13.284-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colorful Comments</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SdVxFUpsNCI/AAAAAAAAAHY/TCt3V4TBBso/s1600-h/IMG_4597.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SdVxFUpsNCI/AAAAAAAAAHY/TCt3V4TBBso/s200/IMG_4597.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320282871064966178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the title I am sure that you would think I might swear.  But that is not really what I mean.  As some may and may not know, three days a week I watch two other young boys besides my own two.  Starting with my daughter down to the youngest, each child is about 16 months or so apart.  Now, just staying home with these children can quite often be chaotic.  I personally prefer to be VERY active those days to make the time go quickly for everyone involved.  So we usually go out at least two of those three days, most the time we leave all three days.  We go to the zoo, to an indoor playground and gymnasium, Toddler Tuesday at the MOA, and other such adventures.  We have a great time and it is always worth the effort to leave the house in my personal opinion.  Every now and then I get a comment at how well behaved the kids all are.  The real purpose of my post is this...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mostly everyone that sees me out and about cannot contain themselves and blurt out things like, "Are these children ALL yours", or "You must be very busy", or "My, aren't they CLOSE together" I could go on and on, but you get the drift.  I realize that at 30 years old I MAY look too young for that many, but alas it is possible.  I realize that in this day and age people aren't having this many children that close together, but alas there are SOME out there doing it.  I also realize that at times caring for four young children with ages such as these can be really difficult, but alas it still has to be done.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then there are those that just stare.  They can't tear their eyes away from our situation.  They look to the kids, then me, then the kids, then me...you get the drift.  Or like today at McDonald's, yes we ALL went to McDonald's, there was a mother and daughter that looked at us and then whispered between themselves.  I could not hear what they were saying, but since they felt the need to whisper I am sure it wasn't exactly edifying in any way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It makes a person feel ashamed for what they have, what they have chosen.  It makes a person feel the need to explain, when really there is NO need.  Why do I always feel the need to tell whomever it is that asks that they are not all mine?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All this to say, I really only have two small kids.  So, from here on out I am vowing to tell every mother that is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;schlepping&lt;/span&gt; around the city with her brood that she has a beautiful family.  Maybe I will tell her that she is doing a great job.  I might even say, "I wish I had that many children."  Just to make her feel proud of all she is doing and all she has. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cause really, if you have four or more kiddos every day...you deserve an award and some praise...and probably a vacation!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-8453865698905452569?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/8453865698905452569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=8453865698905452569' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/8453865698905452569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/8453865698905452569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2009/04/colorful-comments.html' title='Colorful Comments'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SdVxFUpsNCI/AAAAAAAAAHY/TCt3V4TBBso/s72-c/IMG_4597.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-2971782120212540398</id><published>2009-03-24T17:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T17:39:48.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Praying for Stellan.</title><content type='html'>Plain and Simple...I am praying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-2971782120212540398?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/2971782120212540398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=2971782120212540398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/2971782120212540398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/2971782120212540398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2009/03/praying-for-stellan.html' title='Praying for Stellan.'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-2832787252877950063</id><published>2009-02-09T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T11:04:20.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Since I no longer have babies...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SZB-BUQNg6I/AAAAAAAAAGA/I4X4ukNbIJ0/s1600-h/IMG_5192.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SZB-BUQNg6I/AAAAAAAAAGA/I4X4ukNbIJ0/s200/IMG_5192.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300875322496746402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SZB-BgbWy7I/AAAAAAAAAGI/J1ACfTgrFT0/s200/IMG_5255.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300875325764717490" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SZB-B1-gRVI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/OrOB77cHXEc/s200/IMG_5210.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300875331549283666" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some pics of my youngest coming out of babyhood/toddlerhood, and into boyhood.  I was thinking when Wyatt turned three a few weeks ago that I really don't have a baby anymore.  Eric and I aren't really planning on having any more kids of our own.  We like our two and the freedom that comes along with not having a baby now.  We are seriously considering adoption in the future, of maybe a sibling group that needs a forever home.  I have wanted to adopt for quite some time, and I have been more passionate about it since college.  We will see what the future holds.  I do often have these yearnings to have a baby when I am around one...but I also care for a young babe, and although he is sweet to the gills and I really love the little guy, I have to say he helps me remember the difficulties of babyhood.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That being said I mourn the loss of doing something that you get to do when you have a child; name it.  I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE thinking of baby names.  I like to read baby name books, I love to hear what people have chosen, I even look forward to the day when we get a dog or a cat so I can help name the creature.  What is that?  Why do we think those things?  Who knows, maybe I am the only one. And really, what a lousy thing to mourn.  I should be mourning many other more sentimental things, but I don't.  I am sad to never nurse a baby again, and I am sad to not ever name one again.  Weird.  So I decided I would like to re-enter the world of blogging with a list of names I would like to name my child in dream world.  I have lots to choose from, and you can borrow them if you like, I would be so proud to contribute.  I am sure you agree from the pure beauty of the names I should have another...but I think it is a little selfish to have a child just to name it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Charlotte Katherine(after Eric's g-ma)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Delaney Lavonne(after my g-ma, and Delaney is an Irish surname like Matigan)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lily Kait&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sawyer James&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Amos Emanuel(my maiden name with a "son" attached&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;That is all for now.  If I think of any others that I really love I will share later.  I really do always hope to keep up on this better, but I seem to find other things to do.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-2832787252877950063?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/2832787252877950063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=2832787252877950063' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/2832787252877950063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/2832787252877950063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2009/02/since-i-no-longer-have-babies.html' title='Since I no longer have babies...'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SZB-BUQNg6I/AAAAAAAAAGA/I4X4ukNbIJ0/s72-c/IMG_5192.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-4856809132098952617</id><published>2008-11-26T06:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T07:42:45.492-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch-Up</title><content type='html'>Here I am again with so much time in between posts.  I have been harassed so I am going to post again and try this one more time...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even though it may not seem important to everyone, a lot has been going on in my house.  My husband has taken the GRE and "we" are applying to schools so Eric can complete his doctorate.  We are shooting for the stars and he is applying to some pretty prestigious schools to try and guarantee a good teaching position when he is done.  As of right now we are applying to Marquette, Vanderbilt(first choice), Yale and Boston U.  It is hard to believe that my sweet husband is within the reach of those schools, but by their requirements he really is.  I am not sure what to pray for in this area, as I feel like my prayers are selfish.  I am just trying to trust that like every other time we have moved, I will bloom where I am planted.  I am proud of the nightly studying my husband has completed, he is so diligent!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The kids have been growing lie weeds it seems.  Mattie just turned four and I can't believe she is that old.  I remember looking at other children who were four and not having any concept of what she would be like at that age.  Mattie continues to be full of drama, and especially loves Barbie's.  She wants to choose her clothes everyday for everything and I hate to tell you that I am a party pooper in this area.  I am probably stifling her creativity.  I let her choose if we are going to be around the house, but otherwise I have to butt in.  She especially wants to wear a leopard skirt and a tie-dye t-shirt.  Together.  In November.  In Minnesota.  Or maybe it is the shirt with the hello kitty on it that is really supposed to be pajamas.  Summer pajamas.  So I guess you can call me a stinker in that area.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am told over and over again that Wyatt is a real "boy".  Maybe it is the name that we gave him?  He wants to wrestle, loves to ask questions over and over and to great length,  likes tractors and trucks and machinery.  What most people don't see that I get to see is that every once in a while he does like to do what his sister does and he will come out with a dress on.  He is a little sweetheart, and never fails to make me feel good about myself.  He has been known to tell me I am the best, that I smell good, that I look like I should go out on a date, etc.  He is a guy's guy, but he is just so sweet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am leading a Bible Study here at the Seminary.  We are studying Beth Moore's Living Beyond Yourself.  It is the third time I have done the study, and because the content is so heavy, I feel like it could almost be my first time too.  I have LOVED this study, and the group of ladies that come are simply lovely.  One of the gleaming, shiny new things laid out on my heart is from this study.   After all the trials that Job goes through, he is talking about God's judgement...and he says in Job 23...that basically no matter where Job looks he cannot see God.  Not in all the hardship, but that he takes comfort because even when he cannot see God, God can see him.  And that after all that testing he will come forth as gold.   I took some liberties to paraphrase here, but the meaning is the same.  That simple idea that I have maybe known in the back of my heart and mind is so clear to me these days.  I am not sure if that is because of where I came from or where I am going.  Either way he knows where I am.  He knows where you are too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there is the update and maybe from here on out I can try to keep up on this silly space.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-4856809132098952617?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/4856809132098952617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=4856809132098952617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/4856809132098952617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/4856809132098952617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2008/11/catch-up.html' title='Catch-Up'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-1643714242645058404</id><published>2008-08-04T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:49:48.351-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheering for Daddy</title><content type='html'>Eric has been training for his second marathon and we like to be his very best fans.  Although it is hard some mornings when he goes for 2 hour runs, because I would love to sleep in!!!  We still get excited for him and support him the best way we know how, because he sure supports each of us in some major ways!!  So here are some pictures to share from that event.  We cheered him on, tried out their craft fair(lame), and then went through Dairy Queen on the way home.  As you can see, it was a slight &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SJiWWCm-w4I/AAAAAAAAAE0/r5YOTIU2BXM/s1600-h/IMG_4089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SJiWWCm-w4I/AAAAAAAAAE0/r5YOTIU2BXM/s200/IMG_4089.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231096272592487298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;disaster, but instead of grumbling we all laughed hard and took some pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SJiWXawCV3I/AAAAAAAAAFM/5ggiOQvZRPg/s1600-h/IMG_4110.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SJiWXawCV3I/AAAAAAAAAFM/5ggiOQvZRPg/s200/IMG_4110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231096296252790642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SJiWWncD-uI/AAAAAAAAAE8/GsV-Uphrwrk/s1600-h/IMG_4096.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SJiWWncD-uI/AAAAAAAAAE8/GsV-Uphrwrk/s200/IMG_4096.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231096282478803682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SJiWXJMk1CI/AAAAAAAAAFE/nkHBrINySRI/s1600-h/IMG_4109.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SJiWXJMk1CI/AAAAAAAAAFE/nkHBrINySRI/s200/IMG_4109.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231096291540653090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I took no pictures I thought I would tell you another funny thing that happened yesterday.  I sat down at a full length mirror to quickly do my make-up before church.  I left it there when we ran out the door in a hurry.  When we came home the kids took to playing very nicely, Mattie with her doll house and Wyatt back in their room.  When they do that, you never want to interrupt because then they will forget that they were playing nice without you.  But I sort of got the sense that maybe Wyatt was too quiet and so Eric walked down the hallway and busted the little man.  There he was in front of the mirror, with mascara smeared all over his eyes, cheeks, hands...There was also a significant amount of bronzer everywhere.  I think there may have been a little lip gloss as well.  It was one of those situations where Eric was trying to be firm, but we both had to race into the family room to avoid laughing out loud right on front of Wyatt.  He looked hilarious and I am pretty sure he said something along the lines of getting pretty for church, which is what I am sure I told him before we left.  It was a hoot, it made me love my kids so much!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-1643714242645058404?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/1643714242645058404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=1643714242645058404' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/1643714242645058404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/1643714242645058404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2008/08/cheering-for-daddy.html' title='Cheering for Daddy'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SJiWWCm-w4I/AAAAAAAAAE0/r5YOTIU2BXM/s72-c/IMG_4089.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-6368818916430461432</id><published>2008-07-23T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:49:49.202-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Way over due...but here's the potty party results.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SIfY4vJaMAI/AAAAAAAAAD8/hhZ6yMsgkG0/s1600-h/IMG_3908.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SIfY4vJaMAI/AAAAAAAAAD8/hhZ6yMsgkG0/s200/IMG_3908.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226384361826955266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is precisely why I never wanted to start a blog.  People expect you to keep it up!  I am not so good at that.  I was looking back at pictures and I did not even know where to begin to keep up my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My baby, my son...just became a big boy.  We went through the "How to Potty Train Your Child in One Day" book by Terri &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SIfY5a3VWWI/AAAAAAAAAEU/T3ZN0Xk__Lk/s1600-h/IMG_3937.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SIfY5a3VWWI/AAAAAAAAAEU/T3ZN0Xk__Lk/s200/IMG_3937.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226384373562300770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Crane.  It worked great for my daughter, so we thought why fix something that is not broken.  My very, VERY wonderful husband had the guts to go through the first day home alone with Wyatt as they were of the same gender.  You know I just can't fake those parts.  So they stayed home and taught the doll how to go in the toilet in the morning and then Wyatt worked on it himself in the afternoon.  It really went well, and although there was some confusion on his part the first couple of days he is going in the toilet(or bushes if we are outside, boys are so lucky) like a champ.  He particularly enjoyed peeing off the dock at my grandparent's cabin this last weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here are some pictures for you.  It is hard to know that my son is not really a &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SIfY5PN_NjI/AAAAAAAAAEM/4ctiVr0z4_M/s1600-h/IMG_3876.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SIfY5PN_NjI/AAAAAAAAAEM/4ctiVr0z4_M/s200/IMG_3876.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226384370436093490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SIfY4zJs8eI/AAAAAAAAAEE/vezim4_1_C0/s1600-h/IMG_3858.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SIfY4zJs8eI/AAAAAAAAAEE/vezim4_1_C0/s200/IMG_3858.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226384362901926370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;baby anymore!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-6368818916430461432?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/6368818916430461432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=6368818916430461432' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/6368818916430461432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/6368818916430461432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2008/07/way-over-duebut-heres-potty-party.html' title='Way over due...but here&apos;s the potty party results.'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SIfY4vJaMAI/AAAAAAAAAD8/hhZ6yMsgkG0/s72-c/IMG_3908.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-4929185540441905613</id><published>2008-07-09T13:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:49:49.765-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The anti-color Black</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SHUnqBtW5yI/AAAAAAAAADk/f8wG6rWeAe8/s1600-h/IMG_3835.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SHUnqBtW5yI/AAAAAAAAADk/f8wG6rWeAe8/s200/IMG_3835.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221122945972627234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SHUnqUr9weI/AAAAAAAAADs/1uc8sGEVDd4/s1600-h/IMG_3836.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SHUnqUr9weI/AAAAAAAAADs/1uc8sGEVDd4/s200/IMG_3836.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221122951067058658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SHUnrK7yZmI/AAAAAAAAAD0/YWarw4RM6ts/s1600-h/IMG_3833.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SHUnrK7yZmI/AAAAAAAAAD0/YWarw4RM6ts/s200/IMG_3833.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221122965628937826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much to my dismay, I tried to dye my own hair.  As you can see by the pictures, I was very successful in choosing a dark BLACK tone.  What I was not successful in doing was choosing a nice solid dark brown.  Well, I am stuck with it for now.  I am too poor to go to some fancy salon to fix it, so I will do my best using shampoo and sun to bleach it out.  My sweet daughter keeps telling me it is beautiful.  So I guess when I am in a moment of near tears over the matter I will look to her for some solace.  I told my husband I did not want to leave the house because it was so bad, and he said "It's not that bad."  Which to me says, "I need you to leave the house with me right now, but yes, it looks pretty weird."  So I will not seek the approval from him.  Good thing he loves me!  Enjoy my most embarrassing pictures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-4929185540441905613?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/4929185540441905613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=4929185540441905613' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/4929185540441905613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/4929185540441905613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2008/07/anti-color-black.html' title='The anti-color Black'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SHUnqBtW5yI/AAAAAAAAADk/f8wG6rWeAe8/s72-c/IMG_3835.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-7942605279202754093</id><published>2008-07-02T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:49:50.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweat and Strawberries</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGup7Zqu62I/AAAAAAAAADU/5UFcqmjeLIM/s1600-h/IMG_3650.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGup7Zqu62I/AAAAAAAAADU/5UFcqmjeLIM/s200/IMG_3650.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218451431206349666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love strawberries.  It was an extremely hot pickin time...but I still enjoyed our time together.  I am not sure if you have ever picked strawberries, but it is addicting.  Once you start finding all these bea&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGup6ww1scI/AAAAAAAAADM/NQKKt28D5qI/s1600-h/IMG_3646.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGup6ww1scI/AAAAAAAAADM/NQKKt28D5qI/s200/IMG_3646.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218451420226105794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;utiful berries, you just can't stop.  Even&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGup6c4bhHI/AAAAAAAAADE/8zifGBHs4VQ/s1600-h/IMG_3654.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGup6c4bhHI/AAAAAAAAADE/8zifGBHs4VQ/s200/IMG_3654.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218451414889235570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; when you have sweat dripping off of you, your kids are complaining about the heat, and the box is full...you just want to keep going.  As you walk out of the berry field you look down and you see all these red beauties poking out and you start getting the urge to stoop down and pick them.  I may be alone in this feeling, but it is a rewarding job.  The hard part is getting home and deciding what in the world you are going to do with 13 pounds of strawberries that will go bad in a matter of a few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids enjoyed themselves for the most part.  Mattie complained a whole lot about being hot.  She reminded me a lot of myself when I was younger.  Not wanting to do any hard work.  Wyatt went nuts eating every berry he could.  He ate them all, green, white, pinkish, red.  Didn't matter how ripe it was coming off the vine and going in his mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you enjoy the pictures.  If you would like to pick some strawberries, we went to a nice place in Afton.  It was not a bad drive at all from Roseville.  The place is called Afton Apple Orchard and they have a website that you can visit for information.  What&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGup78upfhI/AAAAAAAAADc/33WR7F2MIGw/s1600-h/IMG_3658.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGup78upfhI/AAAAAAAAADc/33WR7F2MIGw/s200/IMG_3658.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218451440618012178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; they don't tell you online is that it is only $1.75 a pound to pick.  Cheap!!  We stopped at the new Sonic in St. Paul for Route 44 Cherry Limeades.  I suggest that part as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-7942605279202754093?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/7942605279202754093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=7942605279202754093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/7942605279202754093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/7942605279202754093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2008/07/sweat-and-strawberries.html' title='Sweat and Strawberries'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGup7Zqu62I/AAAAAAAAADU/5UFcqmjeLIM/s72-c/IMG_3650.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-3941960807372547704</id><published>2008-06-28T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:49:51.611-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Since we are speaking of color...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGZ2NbOaMtI/AAAAAAAAAAo/tlmJWh92eLY/s1600-h/IMG_3636.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGZ2NbOaMtI/AAAAAAAAAAo/tlmJWh92eLY/s320/IMG_3636.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216987191373869778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGZ2NsFlFeI/AAAAAAAAAAw/7WPEsPna7kI/s1600-h/IMG_3637.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGZ2NsFlFeI/AAAAAAAAAAw/7WPEsPna7kI/s320/IMG_3637.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216987195900237282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGZ2NzQT0BI/AAAAAAAAAA4/rS7y2P93zBs/s1600-h/IMG_3638.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGZ2NzQT0BI/AAAAAAAAAA4/rS7y2P93zBs/s320/IMG_3638.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216987197824290834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGZ2OO9OeUI/AAAAAAAAABA/QRd0I7QVVrE/s1600-h/IMG_3640.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGZ2OO9OeUI/AAAAAAAAABA/QRd0I7QVVrE/s320/IMG_3640.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216987205260441922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister-in-law Kendra took the kids to the Como Zoo here in Saint Paul yesterday.  They have normal zoo animals, and then they have a little "fair" area where you can ride on rides and other such things.  Mattie saw face painting and hair painting and I am guessing she fell in love.  So, sweet Kendra fulfilled her every wish and did both!!!  So here are some pictures for you to enjoy of my daughter.  Wyatt did not want to be painted:(  Not even a tiger.  Sad for him.  I will tell you that the combing out process of this involved Mattie and I both in the shower, lots of conditioner, and lots of tears.  Enough tears, that at the end of a long two weeks of mostly being alone with the kids I am forced ot go out alone tonight.  I don't know what I will do, or where I will go, but it will be alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-3941960807372547704?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/3941960807372547704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=3941960807372547704' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/3941960807372547704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/3941960807372547704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2008/06/since-we-are-speaking-of-color.html' title='Since we are speaking of color...'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SGZ2NbOaMtI/AAAAAAAAAAo/tlmJWh92eLY/s72-c/IMG_3636.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1808987536437178991.post-6937230353377936739</id><published>2008-06-18T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T09:28:37.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'>At your request...</title><content type='html'>It has been requested of me to start a blog, and after reading some beautiful ones, I decided "why not?"  I can't promise writings everyday, and I can't promise that it will be interesting to anyone but myself.  What I can promise is that you will see what is going on in my life as a mother and more.  You should also be able to keep up with us, as we are a busy little gang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love being a mom and, I find that there are not usually enough opportunities to brag about what my life is like, so I will place those thoughts and feelings here, and that way I can feel like I have told someone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we go.  My life right before your very eyes...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1808987536437178991-6937230353377936739?l=shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/feeds/6937230353377936739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1808987536437178991&amp;postID=6937230353377936739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/6937230353377936739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1808987536437178991/posts/default/6937230353377936739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shadesofmotherhood.blogspot.com/2008/06/at-your-request.html' title='At your request...'/><author><name>Nikki</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15641568401317995531</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_DcX6eUJs2MQ/SFk4GMZaL_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/hUUKr7gif94/S220/IMG_3133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
