tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73334473144405167522024-02-18T23:05:34.633-05:00Bad Word Mama!Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.comBlogger165125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-22227955135590578922021-05-30T11:18:00.000-04:002021-05-30T11:18:40.800-04:00Leash Free<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">It happened slowly, I barely noticed the change. The love that was given so freely before was now set by rules and boundaries. If the boundaries were crossed the leash was pulled, not hard at first but I felt the squeeze. </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-16093354-7fff-eb95-7e47-661bb21cbfd0"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Over time, I learned where the boundaries laid and I was careful not to cross them, it wasn’t worth the restraint of my leash. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everyday was a new day, I hope for the best. Excited to see my person at the end of the day.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When night fell so did my hope and silent tears wet my trusting soul.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I adapted to my role and what was expected of me. I stopped hoping for love and acceptance from my original master. I still obeyed the rules but I did so with bitterness. I complied with the rules for the little ones.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After many years of what felt like being strangled by his leash, I realized that I was not the animal he could control.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even though I was never at ease with him or myself there, I was scared. Scared to find out who I really was. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Questions I asked myself everyday..</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Will I always shy away like a beaten dog whenever true compassion is shown toward me?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Will a new person just try to put their leash on me?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Are my scars visible? </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Am I worthy of true judgement-free love? </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Was I the problem? </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why am I terrified to express my feelings and emotions? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These are questions that I look within myself for the answers. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I then remembered these aren’t real questions, they are statements that I heard more times I care to count from who was supposed to love me unconditionally.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, I rely on myself alone to make sure I never have to endure these feelings ever again!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Statements I live by are new and loving..</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am worthy of everything I deserve</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can love like no other</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I will not be used, or hidden behind a veil of secrecy.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My life is full and complete </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t want a relationship, I want a partnership.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everyday is perfect, exactly the way it is supposed to be… Leash free</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-4932250002539312702020-11-07T22:27:00.000-05:002020-11-07T22:27:01.576-05:00Letter to Past Self<p> July 20, 2019, is a day you will never forget! </p><p>You thought it was just going to be a normal day.</p><p>The kids were gone for a whole week and we were finally going to pick them up. I know you're so excited to see them. You missed them so much! </p><p>He screamed at you while you cried for mercy, just a little empathy is all you wanted. Stuck in the car for two hours with either yelling, degrading, or numbing silence. </p><p>This was the last straw, your mind was made up although so terrified... How? That was the question you kept asking yourself, how can you do it? How will I survive?</p><p>I don't need to go into detail about everything you felt, what you withstood those years. Those memories live within both of us forever. </p><p>But the question you need an answer to right now is, HOW?</p><p>This is how...</p><p>You made a plan, first on the list was money. You turned your part-time job into a full-time job. You thought of the little details like bank accounts and cell phones and your 2 best friends and family helped in every way they could. </p><p>5 long months later you did it, you told him. You told him that you could no longer live your life like this any longer. You wanted better for your kids and for the rest of your life. </p><p>You thought of mom a lot during this time. She was close, she raised you to be a strong woman, she prepared you for this. A mom always wants better for their child and you were going to prove her right!</p><p>So, it's been one year and four months from that dreadful day of July 20, 2019. I want to show you everything you accomplished since then. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bvAFG9dpkw3UdCRBPPIR_G8MaVmY2HikcLp8uHHC1hvUS_ze9zV9fap1nEZn4n0zMy1fwADJqUIu01Jw9K9COk9EILeQfnXeBJ49n6iTpDKHq485dQNr6dcv-O_qVmnMwOP4a91eUPX7/s1501/IMG_3293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1501" data-original-width="1242" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bvAFG9dpkw3UdCRBPPIR_G8MaVmY2HikcLp8uHHC1hvUS_ze9zV9fap1nEZn4n0zMy1fwADJqUIu01Jw9K9COk9EILeQfnXeBJ49n6iTpDKHq485dQNr6dcv-O_qVmnMwOP4a91eUPX7/w123-h149/IMG_3293.jpg" width="123" /></a></div><p><br /></p>The things you were afraid you couldn't do you are doing and you're doing amazing.<p></p><p>The cutest apartment</p><p>New Car</p><p>Bills paid</p><p>Money in Savings</p><p>You didn't know this then, but those 4 things are minor compared to what you didn't realize you were going to have to do.</p><p>The most important thing is learning to love yourself! </p><p>You're still working on it, you work hard every single day. Yes, you still have bad days, and that's okay. The bad days you have now are so much better than the bad days you had a year ago. </p><p>Oh, and another thing, you have your freedom, you have the freedom to come and go as you please. </p><p>You don't have to answer to anyone! Not a single soul. That feeling is unreal. </p><p>You have the freedom to eat cereal for dinner if you want, or not wash the damn dishes if you don't feel like it. </p><p>YOU SLEEP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BED!!!!</p><p>You smile so much more now. You don't have to fake that smile anymore. </p><p>The kids are doing amazingly well. They are happier, so much happier. Everyone gets along and has so much fun. Laughing, playing games. There's no more fighting! No more raised voices or crying.</p><p>They smile a lot too!</p><p>You did it.. you're doing it! Every single day is better than the day before.</p><p><br /></p><p>Love,</p><p>Future Ellen</p><p><br /></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANvEoJyXg8ipEyB78i3DJh1AYF7yjxlg16CgCH9m6WcRH3x52YVdsAaxDSlgoNzRWjsgtWSousF2-PYhYPpZNy2_lAQ_UfYt-0-SCyXiMSBvUgtx1B06XSrnFjPvYP_JlBOfYBRmF8Pea/s1670/IMG_3291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1670" data-original-width="1242" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANvEoJyXg8ipEyB78i3DJh1AYF7yjxlg16CgCH9m6WcRH3x52YVdsAaxDSlgoNzRWjsgtWSousF2-PYhYPpZNy2_lAQ_UfYt-0-SCyXiMSBvUgtx1B06XSrnFjPvYP_JlBOfYBRmF8Pea/s320/IMG_3291.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 20, 2019<br />After we picked up the kids. <br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p>Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-15874023801513719982018-06-29T20:19:00.000-04:002018-06-29T20:19:20.869-04:00All screwed up..... Literally!Do you remember when you brought home your new born baby? I have recently experienced something similar. Although, my new baby is my 14 year old daughter. <br />
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If you know the saying; "Bent but not broken" then you will know what I'm talking about.<br />
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If not, then let me fill you in, scoliosis is what I'm referring to. My daughter Emilie was diagnosed with "Idiopathic Adolescent Scoliosis" in 2016. Her curve was already at 33 degrees when confirmed with her orthopedic. So, from there she was fitted with a brace that she was supposed to wear 23 hours a day! She cried, I cried, we fought, I pleaded for her to wear that blasted brace! "Baby, please! It will help you. If you don't wear it you will have to have surgery!" Guess what?? She didn't wear it like she should have worn it. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Da5nEiSkfUVotDUxRdWQ-KyVEmg5v4-6gYH_-k3lkUzBBznucnd_SV0ILtSNiMNsVgdy1JpT-lKjuKKpRKGrYD_Zp9dszqVdDix6u4nnr2ca4dLfbONKn0lzEg0FXSc7J3OorH8vZdnc/s1600/IMG_3111+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Da5nEiSkfUVotDUxRdWQ-KyVEmg5v4-6gYH_-k3lkUzBBznucnd_SV0ILtSNiMNsVgdy1JpT-lKjuKKpRKGrYD_Zp9dszqVdDix6u4nnr2ca4dLfbONKn0lzEg0FXSc7J3OorH8vZdnc/s320/IMG_3111+%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Fast forward to May 2018, there was no sense putting off the inevitable we needed to go see a surgeon.</div>
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First, yet another xray of my "curvy girl." The x ray shown, isn't that great. She has 2 major curves; thoracic was measured at 78 degrees, and her lumbar was measured at 45 degrees. Mind you, when found 2 years ago, she only had one curve. She grew and curved very quickly. And, wasn't wearing her brace. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6p49WXNSmwtuBUkevDsuu-O1JujbwoziWtNUBRnkG01ZBCE4Zne7CKrIx0dGdAwzHl9-nD2pVQ_ZhrZVrfv1Yx17WBrxlqkpE1n4xE4TAW2QjhqBa1k3Irx-ylC0JWm9-6FzyZieUiQs5/s1600/IMG_4075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6p49WXNSmwtuBUkevDsuu-O1JujbwoziWtNUBRnkG01ZBCE4Zne7CKrIx0dGdAwzHl9-nD2pVQ_ZhrZVrfv1Yx17WBrxlqkpE1n4xE4TAW2QjhqBa1k3Irx-ylC0JWm9-6FzyZieUiQs5/s320/IMG_4075.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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So, we met with Dr. Lovejoy with Nemours Children's hospital and after a few more tests, she was scheduled for spinal fusion. Surgery date: June 21, 2018. I was a nervous wreck every single day! </div>
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Of course I needed before and after pics! These were taken only a couple days before surgery.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSQ8Gm7-l0QLBX-60ng8nIyHCsFI1BbIbRMf_GWydMuSLV-8WSxgbNktKdZ-DC1ke598T2815WYpLb99xH14MRYq1bHRUyjXVjWbtRwtNN-qtjdTeZr0nPlt5SHydVyWlx_sEkZjjlORj/s1600/IMG_4838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSQ8Gm7-l0QLBX-60ng8nIyHCsFI1BbIbRMf_GWydMuSLV-8WSxgbNktKdZ-DC1ke598T2815WYpLb99xH14MRYq1bHRUyjXVjWbtRwtNN-qtjdTeZr0nPlt5SHydVyWlx_sEkZjjlORj/s320/IMG_4838.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_WSiak1YXGVb8pa1pdjzpy2K2BaY-g5tgaeOxR2ythlAi4d-NrAQ5EHs5wlDd18j1r8XBCnvNa2NEXzGYCDF8ho6IgQPxDabfX7zVYtYFFY_4AD20xbAD6giwYaeOicCRFZzZO2ZzKmp/s1600/IMG_4839+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_WSiak1YXGVb8pa1pdjzpy2K2BaY-g5tgaeOxR2ythlAi4d-NrAQ5EHs5wlDd18j1r8XBCnvNa2NEXzGYCDF8ho6IgQPxDabfX7zVYtYFFY_4AD20xbAD6giwYaeOicCRFZzZO2ZzKmp/s320/IMG_4839+%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hump on the right is her ribs, her spine was also twisted</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_41Ag_Pd1T8BysdTeIyPX1VCcpQkL5WiPg7fZW8yNwn11nXllwWGvIBipv21YHY34x_UR1yfOY_TIRUO-gd1FqcKqpJQUqwC6YCmB3OIh_kkfm-hmylc6w1qtkcmarTdgPRXJc5mIFs2Q/s1600/IMG_4840+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_41Ag_Pd1T8BysdTeIyPX1VCcpQkL5WiPg7fZW8yNwn11nXllwWGvIBipv21YHY34x_UR1yfOY_TIRUO-gd1FqcKqpJQUqwC6YCmB3OIh_kkfm-hmylc6w1qtkcmarTdgPRXJc5mIFs2Q/s320/IMG_4840+%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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The day of surgery arrived and off we went to Orlando (only an hour from where we live) fasting as well. I fasted too, I felt it was unfair that the family could eat but she couldn't. I made Chris and Andrew eat in private, because we didn't have to be there until 11:30 am. I wasn't hungry anyway, I was a ball of nerves!!</div>
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Back we went, and found out surgery time was 1:47 pm. They gave her an IV and filled it with happy meds a few minutes before they took her back to surgery.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvTB4pfdlWvz7OWXB-5Q8mPbkwsT147qEFs-lvabo3W20VxNwdrNFvxGPaZ2jCl9RggVUlgaxp-aLvW_rFVW69_UwonYzcekvvmw3-8_d4iCsMJfzIvwtnmlfYc7XU5OEGMoQHS8AdCZR/s1600/IMG_4889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvTB4pfdlWvz7OWXB-5Q8mPbkwsT147qEFs-lvabo3W20VxNwdrNFvxGPaZ2jCl9RggVUlgaxp-aLvW_rFVW69_UwonYzcekvvmw3-8_d4iCsMJfzIvwtnmlfYc7XU5OEGMoQHS8AdCZR/s320/IMG_4889.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before the "happy meds"</td></tr>
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Thank god for the meds they gave her, she was actually funny, when they wheeled her out.. giggling even. If it weren't for that, I would have cried like a baby! But, I held it together.. for now!</div>
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The hospital had this amazing app called: EASE. Basically a nurse would sit at the computer in surgery and keep me up to date on her surgery. The procedure would last between 3 to 5 hours. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First message I received</td></tr>
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I received a few more during the almost 4 hour procedure. This really, helped me! I was absolutely terrified! <div>
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About 15 minutes after the surgery and she was brought back to recovery, the surgeon came out to tell me how it went. He said, that it went really well and he was able to straighten her as much as he could. I'm keeping in mind, that her spine will NEVER be perfectly straight. </div>
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They had to fuse from T3 to L3.. below is a diagram to understand better..</div>
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I'm still doing good, keeping the tears at bay, but I really want to see my baby, and finally about 30 mins later Chris and I were able to go back! </div>
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I tell you what, nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see! As soon, as I laid eyes on my sweet girl, I lost it. A nurse held my hand and told me that she did amazing and she will be just fine. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0MFuez1NWHPNDehuu6pSTx1Ofp9u-GtJ_CsSoOuXH4Pwl2eWkBdE2T6sbjQcjn-FX_a4Fk4aiF54YxFijMDWm0OSiQoR220v2wCuURtomE1ddLpKPV2GyB5AL6XvLbq7NpYfi4CRa4js/s1600/IMG_4910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0MFuez1NWHPNDehuu6pSTx1Ofp9u-GtJ_CsSoOuXH4Pwl2eWkBdE2T6sbjQcjn-FX_a4Fk4aiF54YxFijMDWm0OSiQoR220v2wCuURtomE1ddLpKPV2GyB5AL6XvLbq7NpYfi4CRa4js/s320/IMG_4910.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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I took this picture right after my breakdown in the recovery room. I knew Emilie would want to see. </div>
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Soon, we were moved to a private room. And there my friends is where the funny parts happened.. At least until the drugs they gave her during surgery wore off. Below are a couple videos she allowed me to share! </div>
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This first video is when my sister and my niece came in to see Emilie right after recovery. Thankfully they came to watch Andrew, as he couldn't go into Pre-Op or recovery.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwj8tFytIPWjaycQj1Uw1h5J2I8z7W2yvTFRiN3oOw_3sEbd3ZZft4HSRQg-3I7277ewISWw0cw9mF6TLEw3g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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This video is of Emilie trying to send a hello video to her really worried BFF. But, she got sidetracked and remembered she missed her boyfriend Cameron</div>
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<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw2wANnlmOpq3uCGVrkZGGNEhNddGBG3HhOTuwpIgud9wb0xjnH0vsFXdF5LEn-whukfZ5Wpe6Z8mNVN_5yuA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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This video is of her explaining why Cameron's hugs are just so good!</div>
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And the last video is her talking to her BFF on speakerphone.</div>
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The next day some one from physical therapy came in and it was time to move! Here's where the brand new baby feeling comes in. I was horrified that she would slip, fall or twist! </div>
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But, she did amazing, we had to learn how to do what they call a "log roll" I really wished we practiced this at home before surgery!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjggpPazjeWD0JdDcID2DhZD-QUygGMSfagVfLfhH-I_9NZH_xjkvwnPFt80ag70Y4xIfGtjdm0GQLppSXhj0v3PkFrC5ASRZ8lpnoI4NywGbwKwp44GFN8ntZT5lrHzRJGQxVGH_C_D2EF/s1600/IMG_4937+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjggpPazjeWD0JdDcID2DhZD-QUygGMSfagVfLfhH-I_9NZH_xjkvwnPFt80ag70Y4xIfGtjdm0GQLppSXhj0v3PkFrC5ASRZ8lpnoI4NywGbwKwp44GFN8ntZT5lrHzRJGQxVGH_C_D2EF/s320/IMG_4937+%25281%2529.JPG" width="180" /></a></div>
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I had planned to stay with Emilie while she was in the hospital. Chris and Andrew would drive home and make sure the dog was okay.</div>
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But, because Chris is such a wonderful dad and would do anything to make his little girl happy, the next day he brought Cameron (the boyfriend) with him! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsgIqmKUIyzpWfl7O2dTBSnMZFOUOs-JoX3n6qdX2Yvkqm8mI6ppfX-E39yaK_pgwJUwSIc_6JddM4q2KpHPO7iAIO9LAMwe88P04w_d-djeaovp7SPM36NcmkRVhvrABfaGbd9bAlYMsY/s1600/IMG_4952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsgIqmKUIyzpWfl7O2dTBSnMZFOUOs-JoX3n6qdX2Yvkqm8mI6ppfX-E39yaK_pgwJUwSIc_6JddM4q2KpHPO7iAIO9LAMwe88P04w_d-djeaovp7SPM36NcmkRVhvrABfaGbd9bAlYMsY/s320/IMG_4952.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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Nighttime was horrible for her with pain, at one point she was crying that she wished she never had the surgery. But I knew it was just the pain talking. I felt horrible, there was really nothing I could do but to sit by her and remind her why she had the surgery and what her life would be like after. I would have done anything to switch places with her so she would never had to feel that kind of pain!</div>
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It was the single most terrifying process I've ever had to witness and I know there are children out there with much more terrible diseases. I can't even begin to imagine what their parents are going through. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLr2jbsSoNAwSmZvUvKCBcfFjHy37UlPTdVXNecEMU_Xp0n6-KRJErOGyEN7X-ZF5b4vAg3a0a-M9EqZ7yV3C68JBA_1oBLynsvPdleYL0kATFOrubUNxr064NVVqnYzhZiLgqp4LUvR2u/s1600/IMG_4935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLr2jbsSoNAwSmZvUvKCBcfFjHy37UlPTdVXNecEMU_Xp0n6-KRJErOGyEN7X-ZF5b4vAg3a0a-M9EqZ7yV3C68JBA_1oBLynsvPdleYL0kATFOrubUNxr064NVVqnYzhZiLgqp4LUvR2u/s320/IMG_4935.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emilie wanted to know what her back looked like. </td></tr>
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She was admitted on Thursday and released on Sunday evening..</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpeSRcf3KtvOcygg5MAYgzlGwmpOhlRjnQr_jn1ulnXpjH8pbc-a9nOEBR5d5h5MxmDRaJKEITY4G8XIRiLFQh9xjFqKYCUAXKGVy2i-NwaXCGSdNcEynzticWWQq6qvnUqXTzza8lMffJ/s1600/IMG_4970+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpeSRcf3KtvOcygg5MAYgzlGwmpOhlRjnQr_jn1ulnXpjH8pbc-a9nOEBR5d5h5MxmDRaJKEITY4G8XIRiLFQh9xjFqKYCUAXKGVy2i-NwaXCGSdNcEynzticWWQq6qvnUqXTzza8lMffJ/s320/IMG_4970+%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I was so scared to bring her home, even though I was so exhausted from being in that hospital for 3 nights. So off we went!</div>
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As of today, June 29th we are 8 days post op! She took her first shower today and her pain is minimizing every day! She is down to one 5mg of percocet a day. </div>
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I've been sleeping in her room with her. I was planning on moving out tonight, but she asked if I could stay one more night. Well, of course I can, how often does a 14 year old girl want their mom sleeping in her room? Almost never! So, I will be taking advantage of this bonding time with my baby!</div>
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Finally, an after picture of her back. I took this today 8 days after surgery! I'm so pleased with her posture, but she isn't! She needs to re-learn how to hold hold her back, it will take some time, but she will be straighter! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJUUycVDfk680yIk5blBq3_12GHh_04Et0x1wailjCBJ88VEXcCMMLHWNtw1cZdExOU7WsYl22c77TwPXpJ2pzzMNanXlNm48YmfrKaecB5xcug9SXaI9yzhY3V66jibxk3orCu6Sxa4mM/s1600/IMG_4982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJUUycVDfk680yIk5blBq3_12GHh_04Et0x1wailjCBJ88VEXcCMMLHWNtw1cZdExOU7WsYl22c77TwPXpJ2pzzMNanXlNm48YmfrKaecB5xcug9SXaI9yzhY3V66jibxk3orCu6Sxa4mM/s320/IMG_4982.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I wanted to share her journey with anyone who may be going through this. If you're at the early stages when your curvy girl has to wear a brace, please show her this! Emilie did finally admit that she should have worn her brace!</div>
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Getting a t-shirt made for her:</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"I conquered spinal fusion and I'm all screwed up!"</span></i></b></div>
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Emilie, I want you to know that you are the bravest young lady I ever met! <br />
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Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-63475713762201508372015-07-17T17:01:00.002-04:002015-07-17T17:01:48.244-04:00I want to be my Tupperware cupboard!!For as long as I can remember, I've been a planner. I'm the person who is always early to where ever it is I need to be. I was the strong one when both of my parents died. <br />
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One trait that I have, that my mom always boasted upon is that I'm dependable and independent.<br />
I would always smile when she would say that to me. <br />
Up until today...<br />
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I don't know if I want to be the dependable, organized and thoughtful person anymore.<br />
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This evening, I was unloading the dishwasher and as I was putting away my silverware (I always HAVE to do that first) I noticed that I was screwing with the forks so they would all lay on top of each other nice and neat. Every tine had to line up perfectly. <br />
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I stopped and thought to myself, why the fuck do I care? Why do I care if they all line up? Who the shit hole cares if every fork isn't placed so very carefully into it's designated slot? <br />
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I decided right then, I don't care if they all line up. Nope! I don't care. <br />
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I slammed the drawer and then opened the cupboard where I keep my Tupperware. I smiled when I noticed that the cupboard is a disgusting, un-organized mess! <br />
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For some crazy ass reason, I like that mess. I like that it doesn't even bother me. <br />
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I wish I could be my Tupperware cupboard, but for some fucked up reason I know that I'm really the plastic thingy we all put in our drawers to keep our silverware organized. <br />
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I know this goes much deeper than my silverware and my tupperware, but I really don't give a shit right now.<br />
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I hope you enjoyed my delusional rant! <br />
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<br />Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-5894642818164213142015-04-01T09:05:00.000-04:002015-04-01T12:43:42.857-04:00Momma Don't you worryI've been asked a few times by authors to read their work and write a review about it. I love to help people and if my little blog here can help someone just a little bit. I'm more than happy to help with someone else's dream.<br />
Hopefully, when I'm finished with my book someone will help me get the word out.<br />
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I was recently asked if I could read and review a children's book.<br />
I read to my son all the time and he's currently learning how to read himself.<br />
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The book is about a little boy who is nearly six years old and he feels he's too old to hold his mother's hand when they are out and about. <br />
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He learns that he's not too cool to hold mom's hand. <br />
<br />
I also, have a little lad who will be six soon and he's been expressing to me that's he may be getting too old hold my hand. <br />
<br />
I read the story and then I read it to my son. <br />
<br />
In the end Andrew agreed that maybe he should still hold my hand. Then we talked about what he should do if he got lost.<br />
<br />
I really enjoyed the lesson of the story and the rhyming was fun. <br />
<br />
You can find this book on Amazon and Barnes and Noble for $1.29.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ss&ref=ss_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=bawoma-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=B00SVE6M6I&asins=B00SVE6M6I&linkId=6S5V6A37CCJMFUA6&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;">
</iframe> </div>
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OR.....</div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/momma-don-t-you-worry?store=allproducts&keyword=momma+don%27t+you+worry" target="_blank">Buy it at Barnes and Noble</a></div>
<br />
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy the book.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBS_FCcADvoq0QterkmXdMhPe4e2kpPGAkXt6Jt8KXSwTurG43boGMQBM9KwW3jJfXEuuL1IhBEmPIYN2rXMS3AgZcQ7Yfq_b4bIsyg3IudVnXe3V1apk2h3FzKc7RhEjsPnMvSEvdma99/s1600/mysignature.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBS_FCcADvoq0QterkmXdMhPe4e2kpPGAkXt6Jt8KXSwTurG43boGMQBM9KwW3jJfXEuuL1IhBEmPIYN2rXMS3AgZcQ7Yfq_b4bIsyg3IudVnXe3V1apk2h3FzKc7RhEjsPnMvSEvdma99/s1600/mysignature.png" /></a></div>
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<br />Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-58896105822911144232015-03-19T13:26:00.002-04:002015-03-19T13:26:43.507-04:00The Grapefruit TechniqueA friend of mine, told me about this video. She didn't tell me what it was about, she just demanded I should watch it. <br />
I guess she knows that I'm a little freaky and thought I might like it.<br />
So, I Googled it and holy son of a bitch! <br />
<br />
What the shit!!!<br />
<br />
If you haven't heard of this technique or watched the video, please DO NOT watch this with any children or prude people around you!!!!<br />
<br />
I don't want to give anything away, here's the video...<br />
I will tell you that at minute 2:52 made me almost pee myself laughing.<br />
<br />
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So, what did you think?<br />
Am I the only one who doesn't make that much noise while I'm hobbing the nob??<br />
<br />
Wow!!!<br />
<br />
I really think I may try this.. I wonder what Chris will think.<br />
Although, I'm not a fan of grapefruit, I'll probably try an orange instead.<br />
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Damn, now I have to back to Walmart. Ugh!<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading.<br />
<br />
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<br />Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-74263528475037764922015-03-09T20:12:00.000-04:002015-03-09T20:26:50.067-04:00If he fails.. I failed!My 5 year old son started Kindergarten this year. (2014)<br />
<br />
He was so excited to go! I was so excited for him to go!!<br />
<br />
Two weeks after school started back in August, the school decided that the kindergarten classes were way too big. <br />
<br />
They hired a new teacher and pulled a total of I think 18 or 20 students total from 4 different classes to make a 5th class.<br />
<br />
My son was one of the students who was chosen to be moved to a new teacher. I wasn't exactly thrilled, but I didn't say anything about it. I thought, he has to learn how to deal with change. So I let him join the new class.<br />
<br />
I met the new teacher a week or so after she started. She was so sweet and nice and she said she had been teacher for around 7 years. I felt confident that he could deal with the change.<br />
<br />
Maybe 2 months, could have been less the teacher quit and had to move back to where ever she came from. I wasn't happy that he was now going to have a 3rd teacher already. But, what could I do? The teacher had personal issues she had to deal with.<br />
<br />
So, in the mean time his class was now being taught by a substitute teacher. Luckily it was the same sub everyday.<br />
<br />
The sub worked in the class for about a month or so before they finally hired another teacher.<br />
<br />
Okay, are you keeping count here? This will be teacher number 4 all before Christmas!!!<br />
<br />
Andrew seemed to be adjusting well. He loved his again new teacher.<br />
I even loved the teacher. She is the only teacher in all of the kindergarten classes at that school who assigns homework. I'm a huge believer in homework. She even gave every student a three ring binder and split it up into sections. Behavior, reading log, homework and a communication sheet for her and the parent to stay in contact. <br />
She is organized!! I love organization.<br />
<br />
It's now March and I had a parent teacher conference with teacher number 2 about two weeks ago.<br />
<br />
I sat down and was asked to sign a paper informing me that Andrew may be held back to repeat kindergarten.<br />
<br />
I was freaking flabbergasted!!!<br />
Huh?<br />
What?<br />
Why is the first I'm hearing this shit?!?<br />
<br />
After she explained to me what is expected of every kindergartner to know before moving to the first grade. <br />
I calmly explained to her, that I'm NOT happy that this is the first time I'm being told this! Why didn't you send home a note on your "communication log" that Andrew was falling behind?<br />
<br />
Also, that you're are his 4th teacher this year! <br />
Don't you think that would cause some issues with these kids?<br />
She agreed. Well of course she did! <br />
Then she proceeded to praise Andrew with this behavior!<br />
What the hell ever! Good behavior gets you out of jail early, but it won't move a kid to the first grade!!!<br />
<br />
So, down to the nitty gritty.<br />
<br />
He needs to know<br />
<ol>
<li>55 sight words.</li>
<li>How to count to 100 by ones, fives and tens.</li>
<li>Various shapes (cones, hexagons, speheres) that I'm not even sure that I know.</li>
<li> How to read on level 2. I have no freaking clue what that means and when I asked her she said she would send something home with Andrew explaining that. (never got it)</li>
<li>How to write his numbers to at least 20.</li>
<li>The sound of each letter</li>
<li>Difference between upper case and lower case. (She said he didn't know)</li>
</ol>
<div>
This is what he does know:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li> 27 sight words (she said he needs to be at 41 right now)</li>
<li>He does know how to write to 20 because I taught him!!!!</li>
<li>I quizzed him 2 different ways on his upper case and lower case and he only missed 2 letters. </li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have been working with Andrew every single day on the 55 sight words he needs to know. He's getting better, but not as fast I would like him too. But, I'm still working hard with him.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I realized tonight when I was listening to him sound out words that he really isn't hearing what he's saying. </div>
<div>
It's like when he sounds out the word by the time he gets to the last letter he forgets the first. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's an example:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Hat</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Andrew:</div>
<div>
H - A - D</div>
<div>
He says it over and over and then he blurts out "HARD" Then he got the damn hiccups from almost hyperventilating sounding out H so many times. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I Googled.. "How to teach a child how to sound out words."</div>
<div>
I found something interesting, come to find out that he is sounding out words using the "choppy" method.</div>
<div>
I read that some kids find it very difficult to figure out what word they are trying to sound out.</div>
<div>
The site and multiple other sites suggested the child try sounding out the word by using the "blending" method.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I realized that when I was working with him, when I would sound it out I was doing the blending method. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What the hell does all this mean? Does it mean I have to start all over again? I have to teach him how to blend? I'm not even sure how to teach that? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I emailed his teacher after I read a few of those sites and I asked her about it. Hopefully, I will hear back from her tomorrow.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I really don't want him to fail kindergarten, but I don't want him to be behind in the first grade either. He is one of the youngest in his class. His birthday is in July. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Until, the final report card comes out, I'm not giving up on him! We will be working toward the goal everyday!!</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Below is a video of Andrew trying to sound out "WORD." </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He had the hiccups from sounding out "HAD"</div>
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I know there are many home school mom's and teachers out there.</div>
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<div>
Can anyone please help me?? Any advise would be GREATLY appreciated.</div>
</div>
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<div>
Thanks for reading,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ellen</div>
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<br />Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-57072923437791983372015-03-06T17:34:00.001-05:002015-03-07T09:15:44.922-05:00"The Talk"Hey all! Sorry, I haven't written in a while.. a long while. <br />
<br />
I wanted to share something with anyone who still might read my blog. Maybe get some advice on how to approach this situation. <br />
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<br />
A few months ago, I had an inkling that my 11 year old daughter might be going through puberty. <br />
These are the signs that made me wonder.<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>She started to wear underwear under her night shorts. (she never used to)</li>
<li>Anytime, anyone walked into the bathroom while she was in the shower she would freak out and act like she's guarding a precious jewel.</li>
<li>Lastly, I noticed little nips poking out from her shirt.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
So, one day I had to know, so I asked her. <br />
<br />
"Emilie, do you have hair on your too-too yet?"<br />
<br />
Emilie turns bright red and answers "I don't know."<br />
<br />
I knew damn well she wasn't going to tell me anything. So I had to take matters into my own hands and find out. <br />
<br />
She was in the shower one night and I went into the bathroom to pretend I was doing something super important. Of course, she stuck her head out of the shower to make sure I wasn't going to steal her precious jewel. I turned the water on in the sink and pretended to clean up the vanity area.<br />
<br />
I very carefully and quietly tip-toed over to the shower (a whole 3 feet) and ripped open the shower curtain. <br />
Of course, she freaked the hell out.. I would have too. <br />
But, damn-it I'm the mom! No secrets from the mom!<br />
She was so startled that she didn't know which part of her body to hide, her above or below. She chose her above. <br />
<br />
Holy, crap on a stick my 11 year old had a bush! <br />
I was in shock, not an 11 year old! That's too young. <br />
<br />
So after that, I decided that we needed to have a talk about a woman's body. <br />
<br />
I tried to explain to her about what happens to a girls body and what changes happen and why.<br />
<br />
She wanted no part of it. She cried the whole time. She said that she was just embarrassed and she didn't want to talk about it. <br />
Oh well, I told her. We have to talk about it. My mom never talked to me about any of it and it really sucked finding out on my own or from my stupid friends who really knew nothing.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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So, I <br />
talked and she cried.<br />
<br />
But, now I just saw a video on Facebook about having the "Birds and Bees" talk with your child. <br />
I only talked to her about a freaking period. How the hell is she going to react when she finds out how a baby is made!! <br />
<br />
I thought this video was hilarious! But, I thought the kids were way too young to talk to them about how babies are born. <br />
<br />
Or, is it just me? What age did you talk to your kids about sex?<br />
<br />
If you haven't seen the video I'll post it at the end of my rambling.<br />
<br />
I think I picked up so good examples from the video on how to talk to her about it. <br />
<br />
Shit, maybe I should have them both in the room. Andrew is 5, maybe he needs to know about it too.<br />
It would also, make it not so weird for me and Emilie to talk about it. Andrew will be very dramatic and I know it will make her laugh. <br />
<br />
So, please share your thoughts with me.<br />
<br />
<br />
Video source: <a href="http://www.upworthy.com/" target="_blank">Upworthy</a><br />
<br />
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Thanks for reading.<br />
<br />
EllenBad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-60405513023038632272014-09-10T10:44:00.000-04:002014-09-10T10:44:36.022-04:00Abreast not A breast!Here is a conversation Chris and I had.<br />
<br />
Well, it wasn't a long conversation. You have to remember that we've been together for like 13 years so I do consider this a conversation, because it didn't involve either one of us grunting at each other.<br />
<br />
Me: Chris what is another word for abreast?<br />
<br />
Chris: Um, knockers, tits and boobs.<br />
<br />
20 seconds of Chris staring at me like an idiot because I'm holding myself trying not to pee from laughing so hard.<br />
<br />
Chris: What's so damn funny? You asked me and I told you. <br />
<br />
Me: I didn't say <b><i>a breast</i></b> I said <b><i>abreast</i></b>.<br />
<br />
Chris: What! I know and I told you. Why the hell are you still laughing?<br />
<br />
Me: Abreast means to like keep up to date on something. <br />
<br />
Chris: Well, that's fucking stupid! And, who ever uses that word is a damn idiot!<br />
<br />
Me: Awe! That's not very nice!<br />
<br />
Chris: Sorry! I really don't think you should use that word though. People are gonna think you're talking about boobies.<br />
<br />
Me: Okay, point taken. Thanks for the tip. <br />
<br />
We had another conversation a few weeks about about the word "placate." That conversation pretty much ended with me running to the bathroom.<br />
<br />
I think I will get him a word of the day calendar for his desk at work.<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading.<br />
<br />
Ellen<br />
<br />
<br />Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-36453725289867516582014-09-06T20:24:00.001-04:002014-09-06T20:24:23.572-04:00Now, this is a real crisis!What the hell am I supposed to do now?<br />
<br />
I was lucky enough to be able to stay home with my newborn baby when he was born. Five years later and here I am. I'm doing what some people would probaly think is the greatest thing on earth. I get six hours of ME time.<br />
<br />
Both of my kids are now in school and I have nothing to do.<br />
<br />
Get a job right?<br />
Well, no shit! I've been looking for the past month. I've sent out more than 20 resumes to companies who are hiring.<br />
<br />
Is the job market that bad? I would like to think so, because what I'm really thinking is much much worse.<br />
<br />
Am I too old? No, they don't know how old I am exactly, although if they look at the dates on my resume, I'm sure they could figure it out.<br />
<br />
Not only does it show that I graduated high school the year the hiring manager was probably born. I also have a 5 year gap. <br />
<br />
I wasn't sure if I should make a note on my resume stating why there is a gap. Just so they don't think I was in rehab mending a broken hip!<br />
<br />
I bitch to Chris about how bad I want a job and he looks at me like I'm crazy and says.<br />
"I wish I could sit home all day and do nothing!" <br />
<br />
Here's a glimpse of what a normal day for me looks like...<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmk53p-fftL-qyGo089F7wJbeiPDFRtJeqaYjIp2l3dusgJCyl7kz_VWvniFgMu2TUPWc55WoD-LFQlQgCU2A1N0OhwM4a2MLcVzGNYhFOojCupzz2CSPpoUQjXc5CwiSHYSxHUYzSXtzi/s1600/tv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmk53p-fftL-qyGo089F7wJbeiPDFRtJeqaYjIp2l3dusgJCyl7kz_VWvniFgMu2TUPWc55WoD-LFQlQgCU2A1N0OhwM4a2MLcVzGNYhFOojCupzz2CSPpoUQjXc5CwiSHYSxHUYzSXtzi/s1600/tv.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes I spice things up.. I watch TV in the bedroom instead of the living room.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMmqaznzb-9LSrC-eZEB8x4tzGDVsely0tBtR7TzzFZ7VW9lF8oUIC_XiX9FKPiyt8AjxI8pcZ_AwglfDggsvnp4j25ZG6BwIZ9M2t871gvkGU0vPNgf8AOk3KueyjsBOKZhsx0qFF8rR/s1600/reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMmqaznzb-9LSrC-eZEB8x4tzGDVsely0tBtR7TzzFZ7VW9lF8oUIC_XiX9FKPiyt8AjxI8pcZ_AwglfDggsvnp4j25ZG6BwIZ9M2t871gvkGU0vPNgf8AOk3KueyjsBOKZhsx0qFF8rR/s1600/reading.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready for my mid-morning nap by reading a little.</td></tr>
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Physical activity is very important! I have to keep my light saber skills fresh and new. </div>
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So there you go, that's my newest bullshit I'm dealing with now. I know boo-hoo for me. People are dying and starving, and I'm bitching about sitting home all day doing nothing. </div>
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Thanks for reading anyway. Missed you guys!!</div>
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Ellen</div>
Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-65102006469740506972014-08-01T10:01:00.000-04:002014-08-01T10:01:48.508-04:00Do all women deal with this, or is it just an Ellen thing?As a 40 year old woman, I've learned that women, girls and gay men will talk about pretty much anything.<br />
Everything, including; beauty, love, relationships, health, cooking and sex.<br />
<br />
I've always been a pretty open person and nothing really embarrasses me. Most of the time I don't feel uncomfortable even listening or talking about personal stuff with friends. Shit, sometimes even strangers that show an interest or brought up the subject. <br />
<br />
Again, over the years I've heard a lot of stories or have been asked advice about problems or situations. Most of them are just "Hey, Ellen wanna hear something gross?" Well, of course I say hell yeah, because someone else's gross problem always makes you feel just a tiny bit better about your own gross stuff.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Friend story </i></b><br />
<i><b>Oh my gosh, I was in the shower the other night because I thought a hot shower would break up the congestion in my chest. I was in the shower and started coughing like crazy and all of a sudden I felt something coming up my throat. So, I spit it out in my hand and it was phlegm as big as a golf ball!</b></i><br />
<br />
<b><i>My response:</i></b><br />
<i><b>Oh wow, bet that made you feel better! But, I have to ask, why the hell did you spit in your hand? You freak the fuck out when you step on a wet noodle with bare feet, but you will spit nasty brown mucus in your hand? What did you do with it after?</b></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b><i>Friend question:</i></b><br />
<i><b>How many times a day do you change your tampon? And, do you change it every time you pee?</b></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b><i>My response:</i></b><br />
<i><b>I don't know how many times I change it, depends on how heavy I'm flowing that particular day. And, no I don't change it every time I pee. Why would I? You don't pee out of your tampon hole.</b></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Come to find out that this friend who was in her mid 30's at the time, thought that you had to change your tampon every time you peed, because she thought that's where her pee came out of. After I finished laughing because I thought she was joking I encouraged her to go home and take a hand mirror to her lady bit and to count the holes. I assured her that there are 3 holes and hopefully she would save a lot more money on tampons from now on.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I had a miscarriage a couple of years ago, I was just at 12 weeks when I miscarried and I was at home.<br />
I called a friend after I knew I passed the fetus. I called her because she had went through a miscarriage before and I hadn't.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Friend question:</i></b><br />
<i><b>Okay, well when you passed it did you pull it out of the toilet and look at it?</b></i><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>My response:</i></b><br />
<i><b>Uh, Hell no! Why the hell would I do that? That is not something I want to see.</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
This particular story I had absolutely no response to, and this is the same story on how I measure grossness. After hearing it, I swear nothing else can beat it and I think I can hear just about anything.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Friend: My husband says my cooter stinks.</i></b><br />
<b><i>Me: Oh well, that's not good.</i></b><br />
<b><i>Friend: I don't just mean, when his nose is down there, he said he can smell it from across the room. </i></b><br />
<b><i>Me: Oh I'm sure he's over reacting.</i></b><br />
<b><i>Friend: Uh no. Well the thing is I can smell myself too. </i></b><br />
<b><i>Me: ** Crickets**</i></b><br />
<b><i>Friend: Ellen you there? </i></b><br />
<b><i>Me: Uh, yeah. I'm really not sure what to say to that. </i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
So when ever I describe a lady's private parts as a 'Hot Pocket', this is the story I'm thinking of. Ooey, gooey cheesy mess drooling out of itself. <br />
<br />
One of the earliest memories I have of girl talk, I must have been about 14 years old. I was at a friends house hanging out and my friend who was the same age decided to show me something funny.<br />
Just so you know, I was pretty naive back then, shit I thought a virgin was a monster when I was 13. And when people would call me that, I would yell, "No, I'm not a virgin!" Then, they would all laugh.<br />
So, at the friends house she took off her pants, but thank god left on her underwear. She rolled herself into a ball on her back and then started to rock back and forth. First thing I thought was, why the hell did she take her shorts off just to excersize. Holy shit I was wrong. After a few rocks back and forth, I heard this noise come from her bottom area that was sticking up in the air. I thought she farted and I thought okay, I can do that without taking off my clothes and I don't even have to rock. But, it does help to lift at least one cheek. Then she explained to me that her butt wasn't farting it was actually her cooter. She explained that it was called a queef. Ugh! I was like what the fuck is that. I had no idea that you could fart out of both holes. For shit's sake what's wrong with the female species. Thank god, she demonstrated over and over because that was something I wanted to master right away. Haha, yeah right! Now, when it happens it's certainly not something I'm proud of. I don't get embarrassed I just thank the heavens above that it doesn't stink!!<br />
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I was at a birthday party once for a kid who's friends with my daughter. Usually, I'm bored as hell with these things, because all the mom's there are uptight and snooty. Well, this one lady who looked like she fit the uptight profile starting talking about her college years and told me a story about how her best friend called her in a panic in the middle of the night to come help her. The friend didn't explain the problem that she needed help with so this lady just rushed over. When she walked into her friends apartment bathroom she found her friend on all fours on the bathroom floor. Apparently, she decided she wanted to wax her bung hole area and couldn't get the paper pulled off on her own. The lady explained that after laughing so hard and in mild horror of seeing her friends puckered brown eye she closed her eyes and ripped that sucker off of her. <br />
<br />
So, I guess it's really not so bad to hear peoples ooey, gooey problems. I've never had to wax anyone's turd cutter!<br />
<br />
So, is it just me? Or do all women have to endure listening to these stories/problems.<br />
<br />
Even, though it seems awful to listen and picture this stuff, I'm really glad to be a woman. You know damn well men don't call each other on the phone and complain that green sludge is coming out of his dick hole.<br />
<br />
I hope that's not something I have to hear or see EVER!!!!!<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading.<br />
Ellen<br />
<i><br /></i>Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-17916270864372924762014-05-15T19:07:00.001-04:002014-05-15T19:07:30.257-04:00Is it false advertisement or just part of the 'game'?Ahh..relationships. Can you remember the beginning of your relationship? All you had to do is think about the other person and that alone would put a corny smile on your face. The butterflies fluttering around in your core are the best. <div>
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People say they don't play games when they start a relationship, this is me take or leave it. I used to think that too. It's been twelve years since I met my mate and when I think back on how I acted or thought, I was playing the game! </div>
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He always says to me, "You've changed since we first started dating."</div>
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Well, no shit! First of all I was in my 20's with NO kids and no responsibility. My biggest concern was what I was going to wear on Friday night to go clubbing. </div>
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But, his biggest complaint is, that he says I liked to.. hmm, how do I say this without grossing all of you out? Play the skin flute. I finally came clean and told him that I really don't like to do that, but I told him that I loved it. Why? Cause that's what guys want to hear!</div>
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I wasn't the only one who pretended to be someone I wasn't. Chris was playing a crazy game of his own. </div>
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We had been dating for a month or so, and I had spent the night and I had to take a shower the next day. He said, "let me clean up in there before you do."</div>
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Seriously, 45 freaking minutes later he was done. The bathroom and shower looked spotless. I had to wonder what it looked like before. Ick!!</div>
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Well, now I know. This man doesn't clean shit. He's damn lucky I love to clean.</div>
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There are many things that happen in the first year of a relationship that seem to die off over time.</div>
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Holding hands, he used to love to hold my hand. Now, if I reach for his hand he looks at me like I'm handing him a grenade. </div>
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Do you remember the long talks every night? Long talks I really don't expect anymore. We live together, we know damn near everything about each other. It's the small talk that gets me. </div>
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I usually don't make small talk. What I do is, if we are going out to eat I save up a few things I think may interest him and I tell him during our meal. I do this so we don't look like one of those couples who sit there in silence while watching all the other couples around us in deep conversation. </div>
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What did you or your spouse do or not do in the beginning? </div>
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Give me all those juicy details. </div>
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Thanks for reading. </div>
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-E</div>
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Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-25340933366461877722014-05-05T12:18:00.001-04:002014-05-05T12:18:18.783-04:00Oh Yeah! That's what I'm talking about. Sometimes I wonder what the hell took me so long to fall in love with reading. All those years I was staring at a T.V letting it try to entertain me. When right there was a book that would take me to where ever I wanted to go!<br />
<br />
I read a lot, I HAVE to read before I go to bed each night and I really look forward to it. Since I love to read so much and I have a blog, I signed up with a company called <a href="http://www.novelpublicity.com/perfect-edge-3/" target="_blank">Novel Publicity.</a><br />
<br />
This is the first time I signed up for a blog tour, so I'm super excited to see how it goes. <br />
<br />
So, I was sent an email with 3 books, I could choose one or all to read and review. I only chose one, because that was the only one that stood out to me. <br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>After a solar eclipse, nineteen people were found dead in a remote area of the California National Forest. They were lying in a circle, holding hands and wearing plastic fairy wings. Years later, on the other side of the country, no one in the southern city of Jefferson is concerned about fairies or fairy-worshiping suicide cults. Except for Candy. She might not have proof, but she’s damn sure it’s going to happen again. The problem is, Candy is a coke-dealing stripper and the only person who will listen to her is an alcoholic mall Santa named Hank, who’s only listening because, well…she’s hot. There are seven days until the next eclipse.</i></span><br />
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<br />
Okay, so here is my review of this book...<br />
When I first read the paragraph above, I thought, what the hell?!? This shit sounds crazy as hell! I had to know what it was all about. The author wrote the book in first person, but each chapter is from a different characters point of view. I thought that I would get confused with all the different characters. But, the author did and amazing job letting you get to know each character during the story. After a few chapters in, I knew exactly who everyone was and their personalities. The book is described as "funny" but it really takes a lot to make me laugh. (not that I'm an unhappy person) To be honest, I didn't laugh out loud, but many parts made me smile. But, hell that was just me, it may make you pee your pants. <br />
By the end of the book, I felt so personally invested in each character and I thought, oh my god. NO!<br />
But, there's a twist my friends! Who doesn't love a twist? I sure do.
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20id=%22rc-c17c24107%22%20class=%22rafl%22%20href=%22http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/c17c24107/%22%20rel=%22nofollow%22%3Ea%20Rafflecopter%20giveaway%3C/a%3E%20%3Cscript%20src=%22//widget.rafflecopter.com/load.js%22%3E%3C/script%3E" target="_blank">Looky here.. it's a giveaway</a><div>
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Thanks for reading!</div>
Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-49930123461954491882014-04-07T13:58:00.002-04:002014-04-07T13:58:41.243-04:00Holy! What happened to my "perfect" child!?When your child is born, whether it's your 1st or 6th, you can overlook all the slimy business covering the tiny little body. You take inventory, ten toes, ten fingers, one nose and either a wee-wee or a hoo-ha, hopefully not both. eeek!!<br />
<br />
You've given birth to a "perfect" baby!<br />
<br />
The first few years go by like a flash and you look at the child and smile, so grateful you have a perfect little being.<br />
<br />
Everyone thinks they have the most perfect child, they are so innocent how could anything on him or her be nothing but pure perfection!<br />
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I remember when my daughter was around two or three years old, and she scratched her cheek and after it healed, I noticed that it left a scar. I literally cried because my sweet baby girl will have a scar on her perfect cheek forever. (It ended up not scaring or she grew out of it. Who the hell knows.)<br />
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<br />
I've just recently noticed neither one of them are perfect, I'm not talking about their language or their attitudes. I'm talking about something about them physically that makes them not so perfect.<br />
<br />
I was staring at my daughter the other day and realized that her nostril holes are 2 different shapes.<br />
Is that freaking weird or what?!<br />
<br />
Maybe not so weird, I've never really stared at other peoples nostril holes before. I can tell you what, I'm gonna start now!<br />
<br />
My son, oh that poor kid. He has the worst set of eyebrows I've ever seen on a child. They are seriously out of control! He likes to mess them up and say, "Look at me mama, I'm mad!" <br />
You think the kids in kindergarten will notice if their new classmate has skinny eyebrows? Hmm, probably. Hopefully he will grow into those suckers.<br />
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Now, that I've revealed that my "perfect children" are not so physically perfect as I thought, I love them no matter if Andrew had a uni-brow or Emilie had one big nostril hole. <br />
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Thank god she doesn't though, that would be freaking scary as hell.<br />
<br />
When did you realize that your children weren't as perfect as you thought they were? Or are your eyes still clouded by just being able to produce other human beings? If so, don't worry you'll see them soon.<br />
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Thanks for reading<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/140/DA6321FFD21D1F5EF13B6FCE6FCFBA3E.png" style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px !important;" /></a><br />
<br />Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-33076429376448012912014-03-12T09:41:00.002-04:002014-03-12T09:41:39.731-04:00Damn! Now I feel old!!I just heard on the news this morning that today is the 25th anniversary of the World Wide Web!<br />
What the hell?!? That shit makes me feel so old!<br />
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Why you say? <br />
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Well, because I will be 40 years old in May and I can remember what life was like before the WWW.<br />
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It didn't really hit me until one day we came home and there was something on our doorstep, my daughter who is 10 got super excited because she thought we got a present.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLyj1cD0AlOcIe6IgGGY51EM6Aia0IzUWz8A6gb37PRbh0Z9EwEvrUIhZJ7FXwEzPtS-4ZdIS_aS_w0Wf-_cWGjWEItR1nc46m7ICyf8CkVqR_2Hj_QcyzpZ_RY_KSV6ef2NqQqaQPJel5/s1600/Telephone+Book+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLyj1cD0AlOcIe6IgGGY51EM6Aia0IzUWz8A6gb37PRbh0Z9EwEvrUIhZJ7FXwEzPtS-4ZdIS_aS_w0Wf-_cWGjWEItR1nc46m7ICyf8CkVqR_2Hj_QcyzpZ_RY_KSV6ef2NqQqaQPJel5/s1600/Telephone+Book+1.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></div>
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"Uh, Emilie, that's not a present. That's what you call a phone book."<br />
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It was one of those mini phone books. She was in awe, because she never heard of such a thing!<br />
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She scooped it up and brought it inside and dove right in.<br />
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"Mommy, are these people's actual phone numbers?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, Emilie they sure are."<br />
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I proceeded to tell her a story that phone books when I was growing up were way bigger and when I had a sleepover, me and my girlfriends used to open it up and randomly pick a number and prank call someone.<br />
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After I explained what a prank call was she jumped up and down and insisted we do that too.<br />
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"Oh hell no, baby girl! There is something called caller id now and they would know who was calling them."<br />
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Ahh, life before caller id. (makes me smile)<br />
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The phone book isn't the only thing I remember having as a kid. Can you actually believe that I learned how to type on a typewriter? Yep! Fortunately it was an electric one!<br />
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I know damn well, my daughter wouldn't know what white out is either! Is there any use for that anymore?<br />
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In high school, I think in my junior maybe senior year, our school finally got "Computer Class." I got to learn how to use a computer. Without a mouse! There was no such thing back then. Well, at least not at our school. You actually had to press a button, I think F5 to save your work. <br />
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And, we saved it on a floppy disk! It wasn't till after I graduated and got my first office job in 1995 that I was able to save my work on a Hard disk! Wow!<br />
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I also remember asking my mom for help on my homework, and she would refer me to the Encyclopedia's in the living room.<br />
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"I didn't pay all that money for those damn books, for you not to use them!" She used to say every time, because I was too lazy to get up.<br />
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Now, you can just "Google" something and boop, there's your answer!<br />
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Oh my, who remembers what a card catalog is at the library? Betcha, a shit ton of people don't.<br />
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How long has it been since you had to use a pay phone? And, good freaking luck finding one!!<br />
This is back when you actually memorized everyone's phone number. And if you didn't you just looked in the phone book that was attached to the phone booth.<br />
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I'm not even gonna go into records, cassette or VHS tapes!<br />
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Even, though all of this makes me feel ancient, I'm also so happy that I had the privilege to grow up when you actually had to use a map to find your way. I think my generation has the best of both worlds.<br />
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If shit falls apart tomorrow and there is no more Internet or cell phones we will know how to survive! These 20 year old kids they will be walking around the streets like zombies. Not talking to anyone, because without cell phone to text someone they have no idea how to actually communicate with anyone!<br />
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Yay, 40 I'm ready for ya now!<br />
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Thanks for reading,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/140/DA6321FFD21D1F5EF13B6FCE6FCFBA3E.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-2575016199937524112014-03-05T18:49:00.000-05:002014-03-05T18:49:00.139-05:00Are all SAHM's so involved? Or should I call it obsessed?I wonder if all stay at home mom's go through what I've been through the last 4 years.<br />
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I'm not talking about shitty diapers, kids who embarrass you at the grocery store when a little person walks by or feeling like you never get a freaking minute alone.<br />
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I'm not sure if I would define it as boredom or just finding yourself while watching Kelly & Michael. (man, I miss Regis!)<br />
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I have worked outside the home since I was 16 years old, and then I decided at 35 when my son was born I wanted to stay home with him. Once the first 6 months or so went by and I wasn't so sleep deprived that I could actually think about my life and what the hell I'm doing with it, is when it all started.<br />
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Below is the list of all the things that I've either obsessed over or I was just so damn bored I thought I would try it out.<br />
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The first thing was reading, I started with the Twilight Series and I couldn't believe that my mom was right all these years and reading is awesome. I think I never did it before because I was busy with work and my sweet party life I never thought I needed to escape. This is something I never stopped doing, I still read every single night before I go to sleep. <br />
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Next, was extreme couponing. Holy shit on a stick, I really dove into that one. I actually dove into a dumpster once looking for coupons. I saved a shit load of money and I really felt like I helped contribute something to the family. For some reason, I got too lazy to get out on Sunday's and buy the damn newspapers. Me and 2 other friends of mine, actually taught classes and sold coupon binders at one point. <br />
I decided to start couponing again, not as "extreme" as before but, I feel like I need to help save money, instead of spending it.<br />
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Hmm, what's next? Oh that's about the time we moved out into the country and I was stuck 10 miles from town with no car cause the asshole broke down. I started gardening. That was fun, but it would cost money that I didn't want to spend because plants aren't free and I found out the hard way I couldn't grow shit from a seed.<br />
That is about the time I started my blog and getting good book ideas.<br />
Also, I dabbled a little in sewing, didn't do to well but at least I figured out how to use a sewing machine. I made 2 quilts and a shit load of pillows.<br />
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We moved from the country to a whole other county 3 hours south from where I grew up.<br />
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That's where I found my newest obsession; Goodwill! Ahhhhh..<br />
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There are more Goodwill's in this town then I've ever seen! I visit the closest 2 at least once a week. I usually go right back to the house ware crap and look for something I can paint.<br />
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I can't even tell you how many shelves I've bought from there that I've re-done and I have no where to put them because we live in a tiny ass apartment.<br />
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Shit, since I'm painting shelves I might as well try to paint on a canvas too. I really find it therapeutic.<br />
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Now, the newest thing I'm trying is working out.<br />
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I don't post many pics of me on my blog or FB because I just don't like pics of me, but I've always been really skinny and never had to diet. But, since I've had 2 kids.. one 10 pounder and one 8 pounder, do you know what that does to a skinny body? Let's just say my kids like to play with the extra skin on my belly more than play doh! <br />
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But, what I really want is my butt a little higher than it resides now and my dream is to have Kelly Ripa's arms!<br />
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I freaking love her arms! I doubt she has the floppy shit going on like I do! </div>
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So, I will be 40 years old in May and I had a physical a few months ago and found out my bad cholesterol is too high and my good cholesterol is too low! Ugh. The doctor told me that if I started to exercise that it could help. He also mentioned my diet and I told him NO WAY! I will not diet so put me on a pill!! </div>
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So, that is one of the reason's why I'm starting this new obsession and the other reason is, because I don't want my belly to be compared to play doh! </div>
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What the hell will I do when I go back to work next year? I can either finish this book I've been working on a become super rich! Yeah right! Or I could be a seamstress? ooh, a painter! Maybe, I can take up photography and start my own biz! </div>
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Thanks for reading</div>
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<br />Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-43776792979006168132014-03-01T12:31:00.001-05:002014-03-01T12:31:17.396-05:00The perks of being a blogger<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even though I've been slacking quite a bit on blogging, I still get emails every now and then to try something free and to blog about it. Heck yah!! Who wouldn't?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is the newest thing, I will be doing with my daughter and I will let you know how it's going.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">K5 Learning has an <a href="http://www.k5learning.com/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">online reading and math program</a> for kindergarten to grade 5 students. I've been given a 6 week free trial to test and write a review of their program. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you are a blogger, you may want to check out their open invitation to write an <a href="http://www.k5learning.com/review-k5" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">online learning review</a> of their program.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If anyone is interested in doing this with their child please click on the link above. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I decided to join this because my daughter is having a hard time with math. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm hoping that doing this free 6 week program she will be more confident and not such a whiny brat when she's doing her math homework.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">Hmm.. maybe I will learn something too, considering she's always begging me to help her and I have no clue what to do. I'm pretty sure she got her math knowledge or lack of from me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I will let you know how we are doing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thanks for reading,</span></div>
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Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-79886816183524585452014-02-24T10:45:00.002-05:002014-02-24T10:45:58.583-05:00My video game addict!My 4 year old loves when his Dad plays video games. If Chris isn't home and Andrew hears a jingle of keys, he runs through the house screaming, "Daddy!" He is pretty pissed off when he finds out most of the time it's me getting my kicks off.<br />
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Andrew is on Chris as soon as he gets home from work; "Daddy, you gonna play your game now?"<br />
He follows him around like a lost little puppy until Chris gives in and turns on his PS3.<br />
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Personally, I love when Chris plays because that means both kids are sitting in the living room with him while I'm in the bedroom, reading, watching T.V or just sitting there enjoying being by myself.<br />
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When I come out this is what I find.. and of course I can't help but to catch it on video.<br />
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Andrew will hold his pee for so long, that he's crying for Chris to pause the game while he goes to the bathroom. He doesn't want to miss a moment.<br />
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We've explained to Andrew many, many times that what he sees on Daddy's game is NOT real! We do not hurt or kill in real life. He seems to understand. "Okay, I already know that!" he answers every time.<br />
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Chris used to have a video game that showed really inappropriate things, like boobies and the man picking up a hooker. He got rid of that one, because there is no way Chris can play a game without Andrew sitting right beside him. <br />
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After Chris shuts off the PlayStation, I will find Andrew running to his playroom to find one of his many swords or guns to pretend he's fighting bad guys. <br />
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I also get a whole story about what he saw on the video game. That's about the time my eyes glaze over and I reminisce on how relaxed I was while they were playing, all Andrew sees is a smile on my face he has no idea that I've tuned him out.<br />
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Do you have kids that like to watch video games? Do you approve? <br />
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Thanks for reading,<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/140/DA6321FFD21D1F5EF13B6FCE6FCFBA3E.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-60164284095070096192014-01-19T17:55:00.000-05:002014-01-19T17:55:53.661-05:00Thrifty and Crafty<br />
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Anyone who knows me, they know I'm freaking cheap ass hell!<br />
I couldn't even imagine paying $10 for a shirt. WTF!!<br />
Maybe that's why I don't have that many clothes. Although, just recently I've discovered something so amazing, it's made for cheap or what I like to call "thrifty" people every where. I've heard about it, but never visited one. Why? Who the hell knows.<br />
Can you guess what I'm talking about? Yeah, I hate guessing games too.. so I'm talking about.<br />
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GOODWILL!!! Holy hell have ya'll been there before? If not, go!<br />
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Not only have I discovered Goodwill but also thrift shops. I usually have to breathe through my mouth while in the thrift shops but it's well worth it when I find awesome deals like below. I've learned that it takes time to find something good. I literally look through every shirt on one rack. It's much easier to do this when kids are around. Sometimes, Chris will send me to the store for beer and I text him letting him know that I will be a little later, I had to stop by Goodwill while I was by myself.<br />
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I think I paid total $20 for all of these clothes and purses. A few of these are from Goodwill, but most are from thrift shops.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqd4-KKb4FAwVZw-sYRly98XkUibrhG9SNWJtPPNcWi_fVW-txgXWWbby17fHvJfmeHxixF2u6IMcNAv1ixrrZPlbM46TT0T65otEDQ68pJje4M9hBPCwnB2-5d8RQW3tCZwvlzDazV6-u/s1600/IMG_20140119_161659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqd4-KKb4FAwVZw-sYRly98XkUibrhG9SNWJtPPNcWi_fVW-txgXWWbby17fHvJfmeHxixF2u6IMcNAv1ixrrZPlbM46TT0T65otEDQ68pJje4M9hBPCwnB2-5d8RQW3tCZwvlzDazV6-u/s320/IMG_20140119_161659.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's an Anne Taylor sweater, I found for $2</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBE3S5T2Qz3ajSdyzEYXbpnctgQFmSdoj_zM6pQKPz5saMeZrG3NmITfRdpRpwVutvIuMzkEjov_D4wm8CJBMqfY8dbWsf6NENj44vcxlHbL6Kp5Vv6SLP1OAg7ZM0cBzrgTHe54PixNz/s1600/IMG_20140119_161714.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBE3S5T2Qz3ajSdyzEYXbpnctgQFmSdoj_zM6pQKPz5saMeZrG3NmITfRdpRpwVutvIuMzkEjov_D4wm8CJBMqfY8dbWsf6NENj44vcxlHbL6Kp5Vv6SLP1OAg7ZM0cBzrgTHe54PixNz/s320/IMG_20140119_161714.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That bluish dress I got for free, because it has a little blue<br />spot on it and the lady at the shop told me just to take it.<br />SCORE!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvv6-ZxJmYBH5GwNFNJtu1nbaQMjwSmEKfpc0BmHSdq0MLKMx4Rb9_82FNdp0SKWYYnqo5sVTSlrVa4CZMqVVn2U52T0oIvpdONgxVOymPFIGadHp_-ibdMOftSFSzq7ikZFFvwwftLpUn/s320/IMG_20140119_161651.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvv6-ZxJmYBH5GwNFNJtu1nbaQMjwSmEKfpc0BmHSdq0MLKMx4Rb9_82FNdp0SKWYYnqo5sVTSlrVa4CZMqVVn2U52T0oIvpdONgxVOymPFIGadHp_-ibdMOftSFSzq7ikZFFvwwftLpUn/s320/IMG_20140119_161651.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I fell in love with that flowered skirt as soon as I seen it. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ZLatCruJ2tWYPzH4tC3t_uJ96xZaD4YB8AiFZWnZFz_QTPaXsM2AJqTEoPUtWc9k6Yl_vPyOQclf8ziiITgZQnqEnvWlmRD1Nuj3C5QkrMgyhftiBL6zogLBk7aW-ZOuZo2svUqJsJXq/s1600/IMG_20140119_161459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ZLatCruJ2tWYPzH4tC3t_uJ96xZaD4YB8AiFZWnZFz_QTPaXsM2AJqTEoPUtWc9k6Yl_vPyOQclf8ziiITgZQnqEnvWlmRD1Nuj3C5QkrMgyhftiBL6zogLBk7aW-ZOuZo2svUqJsJXq/s320/IMG_20140119_161459.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Those are the clothes and stuff I bought for myself, I also found 4 or 5 cute things for my daughter. So there you go, that's my new found "Thrifty" side of me. I seriously go through Goodwill with drawls if I don't visit it at least once a week. I don't buy something every time, just have to make sure I'm not missing out on anything. <br />
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Now, to the "Crafty" part of this blog..<br />
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For Christmas, my daughter got a ton of painting stuff. Acrylic paints, wooden boxes, trinkets and canvases to paint on. I've always wanted to paint myself. But, I've always been afraid to start something and hate it.<br />
Well, since she already has all this crap I guess I could try right?<br />
<br />
So, while I'm at my favorite store in the whole world, I look for things I can turn into something I would like to display in my house. <br />
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Here's the crafty part of me.. well, at least I'm trying...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBLZQEdeyZRRFrFr3CoJNEjHjGd0jRMFDrwHl6wkGuYRx2Yk5kyqsl1DshPe-4tQBPlGRo4HsBBW696tKRdQbAyAsEw1uOzXIrovULDpUqDRidWQJvOBeX1-_mrBMsPr4zaGLbL7VI9VSh/s320/IMG_20140119_154058.jpg" height="240" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found this wooden thingy with hook things. It was all flowery and yellow.<br />
I painted it and made it into my toothbrush holder.<br />
What is holding my toothbrushes are recycled tin cans which I painted.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFP5aC2KaFbcZD6YoZVRghZwCNAuRMNsU2TCHLW_QNoWwQGXj61pdXj3bTQOqEu2n7V5ErSIebTo7zQz6lYSAs_WxChzfPALh-Q71Q0EnV8Aq23e9YaZwnckvdr9NjOejyK-O3TRnWw2S8/s320/IMG_20140119_154108.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image" height="240" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a wooden plank that used to have the American flag on it.<br />
Also found at GW. I painted it, and wrote what I thought was cute and it's in my bathroom now.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6tM8G8bP3NorYX4U6fMdeqS5iu7HwKq6RKc7Lk208pR1vfOtArXaXBaBkHFfRX-v5sawZL07kBIjy2nzHwybmbtnUgNcF4scdBe92vNLLeUhwSKVowXOe82sF26EA5psfiDz7Om7_ATwx/s320/IMG_20140117_102023.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image" height="240" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here are more recycled tin cans which I painted and attached gold letter stickers on them with<br />
modge podge. I'm making a wind chime for my sister who is getting married in March. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtgNq28dUs-eEfyKAoQlC2eOTcDtPPYxB3FsICFlQdPwEI8hMesBxZkxJA1RbsQrKg6cuJikNDs6BuTSz0WHDBPAWg4ARWTyATDhak6oIBDyjH-hHCK1RARSnQv7adSkAPLsJOoiaUzf8/s320/IMG_20140119_154031.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image" height="320" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is another piece I found at GW. It was full of<br />
flowers and junk I don't care for. I painted it and modge podged stickers<br />
on it. It is also in my bathroom holding my hand towel.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPr6DsDaAkNmrFw3Q3_XozEwjekgw9HJwSUyH9zsLdqefsiqvCXI4LGB140FCE1crh6ufSO2FRykM8HH9nNzkAmvZtVz21cOSPOPyXgg6uRsy0V0F1kFmlmWoaMArOBsvSEyfen_UgIJT/s320/IMG_20140114_102109.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image" height="320" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I decided to take a whirl at painting. <br />
Blue moon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiondXXKSMLl3APh7jlySLAHyXqoZwUNDvsp7frODa0Tjt7aDL89lkCgp9SXNazsGI2AoSgtkhLzFLY-JT0eHf1qlGhYhQihubPwvi-R6xQMnDHnVqD72NJZbIVAfIaF41auBnKM2PWAn_R/s320/IMG_20140119_154149.jpg" height="240" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found an old poster board my daughter didn't need, so I thought<br />
I would try to paint on it. I have this hanging over my bed. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYvvc_JF9FoYUpI3fa9okj_ET-JFym4370-0yYK-dB7lmlofIxXeHlbyms2gOmk5o5aira8FAP0h_mRg6oIVl8FptA5d_He9K3mG1PczJNPs55CnqT6MS5pn9bW5caIttkmUofApyOlmQ/s320/IMG_20140119_154212.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image" height="240" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wooden piece I found at Goodwill.<br />
Trying to practice at writing with paint. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
The last one I want to show you is something my daughter painted and I absolutely love. I've always been a fan of abstract art. I like to let my mind wonder when I look at pieces that don't look like anything particular. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzirbfSYfg6x9uydkhpKjlIxGoPsX1xvl4e9CzLDUSR6p4a5C_9WL06H5D0GxAGxUDF-v9CCpwLB8jsNRlC6oSvRvGr2ZGP5Mt4-rLZaKimBeSPTjxO2CNpst_hyKt11gW4stJNUL-lrL-/s320/IMG_20140119_154242.jpg" height="240" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I call this "Holy Shit it's freezing out!"</td></tr>
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So, there you go. That's what I've been up to for the last couple weeks. I'm totally addicted to Goodwill and I will paint anything that has been laying around for too long. I admitted that I am thrifty, but crafty? Hmm, I do try my little heart out. But, I know I have some practicing to do. </div>
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I've also been working on my book. So, I'm not totally screwing around. </div>
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Thanks for reading. </div>
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<br />
Since nothing really embarrasses me, I like to use my sick sense of humor to embarrass or horrify others.<br />
<br />
Below is an actual phone conversation I had with my friend the other day. She was by herself at Kmart shopping for something. She decided to call me and talk me through her shopping event. I have to live through other people's lives, since I hardly ever get out of the house by myself. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Friend: </b> Hey, whatcha' doing?<br />
<b>Me:</b> Just reading, what are you up to?<br />
<b>Friend:</b> I'm at Kmart picking up hemorrhoid cream for my boyfriend.<br />
<i>Okay, she really didn't say that, but in my mind, that's what she was getting. </i><br />
<b>Me:</b> That's cool<br />
<b>Friend:</b> Oh my god they have the Taylor Swift perfume on sale for $10! Didn't Emilie want that for Christmas?<br />
<b>Me:</b> Yeah, but I didn't get it because it was $30 before Christmas. I'm not paying that much for a 9 year old.<br />
<b>Friend:</b> Wow, they have all the perfumes on sale. Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, Halle Berry.<br />
<b>Me:</b> Halle Berry?!? She has her own perfume? What the hell. I need to make my own! I think I would name it Coochy Juice.<br />
<b>Friend:</b> WHAT!!!<br />
<b>Me:</b> Would you wear my perfume? (giggle, giggle)<br />
<i>Friend was saying something but I couldn't hear because I was laughing too hard at myself.</i><br />
<b>Chris:</b> What the hell are you saying? Are you asking her if she would wear your coochy juice?<br />
<b>Me:</b> Chris would you wear my perfume? <br />
<b>Chris:</b> I've worn it, I don't think you should bottle that scent! (Hee-Hee)<br />
<b>Me: </b> What the shit! Not nice ass-licker! Why are you listening to my conversation anyway?<br />
<b>Chris: </b> Because you are sitting right next to me. Go somewhere else and talk that nonsense.<br />
<b>Me: </b> It's not actually the smell of cooter's dumb ass. It's just the name of the perfume. SMFH!<br />
<b>Friend: </b> (<i>Laughing) </i>Ellen you say the weirdest stuff! <br />
<b>Me:</b> Well, someone has to say them!<br />
<b>Friend:</b> Well, I gotta go before I get to the cream aisle and you start talking about that too.<br />
<i>She didn't say that either, but again in my mind she still had to go get her boyfriends bung hole cream.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
So, if I made my own perfume and named it "Coochy Juice" it would be in a cute bottle with this amazing pic of myself on the front. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBt4wxyZYUr6SnskBnCRUZXZsM0f1gjfYxm0WqBDWz7oaqcIm-Uy8GuoGohMRrm_9jVr-N_AdPe8X2eYFEJJh2CxYe2SLv5xjTnSbtl2UahJd8A9y557sSqIuo62OgyXV8FSmEuKmqBwg1/s1600/Coochy+Juice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBt4wxyZYUr6SnskBnCRUZXZsM0f1gjfYxm0WqBDWz7oaqcIm-Uy8GuoGohMRrm_9jVr-N_AdPe8X2eYFEJJh2CxYe2SLv5xjTnSbtl2UahJd8A9y557sSqIuo62OgyXV8FSmEuKmqBwg1/s320/Coochy+Juice.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Thanks for reading and Happy New Year!!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/140/DA6321FFD21D1F5EF13B6FCE6FCFBA3E.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-39698262724087119592013-12-30T19:22:00.000-05:002013-12-30T19:22:32.671-05:00My New Year's ResolutionHey all, I know it's been a while since I've written a post, but before I give you my lame-ass excuse for not writing first I want to talk about my new year's resolution.<br />
<br />
I normally don't make resolutions, because I have absolutely no will power and I never, ever keep them.<br />
<br />
But, if I do make a resolution or a promise to myself, I try to make it small so that if and when I fail it won't be a big deal. I know I'm just setting myself up for failure. Yeah, who the shit cares!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Aaetk6ypEAx-InvSJeICEV6EovM8UmUM8KLWEZHNM2h4Q_I7pZ2Ebp5rlnX7NVD2Dl45WwQNGM1MN4jWkNI08DuW9R_pOUBQvzu_QhphkvW0mhKG192k4cohxrfuetSie4NyPEHKOYPj/s1600/resolution.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Aaetk6ypEAx-InvSJeICEV6EovM8UmUM8KLWEZHNM2h4Q_I7pZ2Ebp5rlnX7NVD2Dl45WwQNGM1MN4jWkNI08DuW9R_pOUBQvzu_QhphkvW0mhKG192k4cohxrfuetSie4NyPEHKOYPj/s320/resolution.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Come next August I will hopefully be returning to the work force and I won't be able to sit on my ass all day watching "The Price is Right." I know I will regret not using my free time for something I really, really want to accomplish.<br />
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My New Year's Resolution this year is to finally finish the book I've been working on. I'm embarrassed to say how long I've been working on it. Umm, so I won't. Ha Ha.<br />
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I'm also going to try to write my blog more often. <br />
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So you want to hear my lame-ass excuse for not writing my blog? Well, too damn bad, I'm gonna tell you anyway.<br />
<br />
There are a number of reasons actually:<br />
I've been non stop reading<br />
Kicking some Candy Crush Ass<br />
Cleaning like and OCD freak<br />
Napping<br />
<br />
So there you go, that's what's been so damn important. Actually, it is very important for me to be inspired by something to be able to write about it. A day doesn't go by that I don't think about my blog and what I should write about. But, the way I see it is, if I'm not interested in writing about it, why would someone want to read it. <br />
<br />
Because of my bullshit, I've lost quite a few readers, which is okay I guess. I don't like waiting on people either.<br />
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So, do you make resolutions? If so, do you keep them?<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZq1zfeyBdPYTQrCym6LsF4SPBmWUZ1iwtsZG9W3FU3RdtZJz-jKrHNxo4A68m9ql2CmuM8tgrk6q5pMbAhOBmVcLjBHFdnKQJa6htrpXFni6IKA_Ko_fOpBWkRfibhZyDjGOTQEkaPOZ/s1600/resolutions2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZq1zfeyBdPYTQrCym6LsF4SPBmWUZ1iwtsZG9W3FU3RdtZJz-jKrHNxo4A68m9ql2CmuM8tgrk6q5pMbAhOBmVcLjBHFdnKQJa6htrpXFni6IKA_Ko_fOpBWkRfibhZyDjGOTQEkaPOZ/s320/resolutions2.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Thanks for reading,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/140/DA6321FFD21D1F5EF13B6FCE6FCFBA3E.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-50999090108772135632013-12-06T20:15:00.001-05:002013-12-06T20:15:59.876-05:00"Meet my friend Squidward"My son Andrew is obsessed with SpongeBob Square Pants show. To be honest, that's really the only cartoon I can stand to sit and watch. I never realized how much my son pays attention to the shows he's watching. Well, until he did something that, uh I was totally speechless.<br />
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This made me wonder what other T.V shows have going on.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylJ4JP5zX2Ij1KxjtRIHjeCO59NwbCf-QWkN0sdknn6P2a0wFMT73t_lQxKd5GaWV4OyrSzmWI4jgPC2f1thEUe7rPbMuMWeSP_xhyEzEC8BL7RCFTkfR5WUIak0ffw53Z0uFMT1Edxk2/s1600/rabbids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylJ4JP5zX2Ij1KxjtRIHjeCO59NwbCf-QWkN0sdknn6P2a0wFMT73t_lQxKd5GaWV4OyrSzmWI4jgPC2f1thEUe7rPbMuMWeSP_xhyEzEC8BL7RCFTkfR5WUIak0ffw53Z0uFMT1Edxk2/s320/rabbids.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rabbids</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patrick from Spongebob</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZN1G0hUXWoqNQa52TlzW9hy9JRA1YNdnea7Akj6vdUf4zrJN7rYVff2H-5JDLhEKoOdJnsdSHtjyq37FjWNFQs-hbzCtrmHsoAPjpxUslmYYcbyi0oWzWGbPD1p8SI5O19YgUvY1ZCrM/s1600/rugrats2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDZN1G0hUXWoqNQa52TlzW9hy9JRA1YNdnea7Akj6vdUf4zrJN7rYVff2H-5JDLhEKoOdJnsdSHtjyq37FjWNFQs-hbzCtrmHsoAPjpxUslmYYcbyi0oWzWGbPD1p8SI5O19YgUvY1ZCrM/s320/rugrats2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rug Rats</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adventure Time</td></tr>
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These are just a few I found, that I know my kids watch. Are you wondering what brought all this on?<br />
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I was getting Andrew out of the shower, when he said to me: "Hey Mama, meet my new friend Squidward."</div>
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He pushed his pelvis area out while he introduced me to Squidward.</div>
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Come to find out, when he looks down at his kibbles and bits he sees this:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squidward from SpongeBob</td></tr>
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After much laughter from me and trying to get him to stop making his Squidward from flopping around while Andrew jumped on the bed, I wondered what else he sees while he's watching T.V. I did a little research and come to find out there is a lot!<br />
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So, I have a battle to choose here, do I not let him watch T.V anymore? </div>
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Hell NO!!! I don't think I can handle that. <br />
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Now, before you judge my parenting skills, they both know that many of the words they hear on these shows they aren't allowed to say. Andrew will hear someone from SpongeBob say "stupid or dumb."</div>
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He will say "Oooh Mama, Mr Crabs just said a bad word." So I'm not really that worried. </div>
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Who cares that he named his penis, most men do that anyway right? </div>
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Do many men talk to them too? Hmm.. maybe I should talk to him about that. </div>
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Thanks for reading.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/140/DA6321FFD21D1F5EF13B6FCE6FCFBA3E.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>
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Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-45568775916449430072013-11-12T20:09:00.001-05:002013-11-13T10:17:59.417-05:00Important skills my children teach each other<div dir="ltr">
When you have kids you know that they will teach each other things. When dreamed about having kids I thought they would teach each other how to play, share and just have a good life together.</div>
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Well, I guess Im an idiot for dreaming or thinking like a shit hole. </div>
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My daughter is 5 and a half years older than my son, she really plays really good with him, most of the time.</div>
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Although, she has taught him one important task that she deems a very valuable life skill.<br />
Since Andrew has been about 3 years old hes a pro at any iPhone app there is.<br />
Oh no, she doesnt teach him learning games, he MUST learn how to play Minion Rush, Wheres Perry or some version of that game. And, virtual makeover and 50 different ways to make corn dogs and cotton candy. </div>
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Even though she's the oldest, he teaches her so many things too!</div>
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He goes beyond technology, he schools her on a couple things about anatomy.</div>
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Recently she learned that when Andrew does naked jumping jacks his weenie is able to bounce around too. I personally find this next one fascinating, although she doesn't agree, but it amazing he's able to pee while scratching his ass with both hands. </div>
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The main thing she has learned that I guess would fall under anatomy would be that we actually do have a butt hole. She assumed this knowledge after Andrew's naked jumping jack session. I guess when he's done with that he likes to finish off with him pointing his butt toward his sister, bend over and spreads them wide!!</div>
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When she saw that she looked at me terrified while of course I laughed.</div>
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Emilie: Mommy, did you just see that?<br />
Me: Yeah, funny huh?<br />
Emilie: He has a hole down there!<br />
Me: Um, yes Im aware of that. Its called a butthole. Every one has one.<br />
Emilie: (stares at me like I just told her she was adopted) Really? I thought we just had a crack. But there is an actual hole there!!!<br />
Me: (My turn to stare at her with no comment)<br />
Andrew: Yes Sissy, see butt hole! (bends over again)</div>
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After I got Andrew dressed I went into Emile's room and broke the news to her that she has a special hole just for peeing. I didn't tell her about the other hole.. hope she doesn't find it on her own, she will really freak the hell out!!</div>
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The last lesson that they have taught each other is the most important farting.</div>
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No, they didnt teach each other how to fart, that comes naturally.<br />
Emilie taught Andrew how to fart and walk the same time. He mastered that in no time, and then he uped the ante...</div>
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Now they both know how to run and fart. Andrew insists he sounds like a "big, shiny racing boat." Emilie disagrees and says that he sounds like a pontoon boat. </div>
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Either way, I guess I should be proud that they play well together and have a good farting time doing it!</div>
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Thanks for reading</div>
Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-68227862983035600882013-11-10T11:53:00.002-05:002013-11-10T11:53:19.820-05:00Still holding on....<br />
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I see you from across the room, our eyes meet. I see love in your eyes, I see hate in your eyes.<br />
I don't care, at least you can see me this time. It feels like eternity how long I have to wait to see your face again. <br />
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It takes me no time to run across that white room to feel your skin again. You don't pull away like you do sometimes. <br />
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I know our encounter is a dream, but I hold onto it for as long as I can. Every time I pray for another minute with you. <br />
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As we embrace, I don't understand why I still carry your soul with me. <br />
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When our loving embrace ends you look into my eyes and without saying a word, it's time for you to go.<br />
<br />
I'm sick of letting you go, when will our paths cross again? <br />
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My heart breaks every time we have to say goodbye.<br />
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I always turn away from you when you're fading, I can't stand to see you leave me.<br />
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I can still feel your presence "I will see you soon, I always do." I whisper.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEids0RqvSl1iGVDHz0yPXJzFGSD4qYiJ6G9IzsYFE3wY8MLDJ-xDGvFGAH-AMR2WQpbuO0PwfMLQmmIPYLGWOfpQkATnKEr2NEMDexzRzUdIKb2m_uUIgoukMXEkPYiVyKT5huy1aaZWaJq/s1600/don't+go.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEids0RqvSl1iGVDHz0yPXJzFGSD4qYiJ6G9IzsYFE3wY8MLDJ-xDGvFGAH-AMR2WQpbuO0PwfMLQmmIPYLGWOfpQkATnKEr2NEMDexzRzUdIKb2m_uUIgoukMXEkPYiVyKT5huy1aaZWaJq/s200/don't+go.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Thanks for reading,<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/140/DA6321FFD21D1F5EF13B6FCE6FCFBA3E.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7333447314440516752.post-44603374362695229722013-11-02T19:23:00.001-04:002013-11-02T19:23:03.470-04:00It's called common courtesyI will be the first to admit I have a lot of bad qualities...<br />
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I'm selfish, I hate sharing my favorite candy, snack with the kids. So yes, I will go in my room and watch T.V and hide it under the covers. No biggie. <br />
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I may read too much, but it's just my way to relax. <br />
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Chris bitches that I like to wear headphones blaring Adam Levine while I clean or write. Sometimes I just don't want to hear him or the kids. What he doesn't know is that sometimes I have the headphones in but, the music is off. For some reason I like to pretend I have music on and I can't hear anyone. But, it doesn't stop the kids from asking me questions while I pretend to dance. Chris yells, "Stop talking to Mommy she can't hear you!" Haha<br />
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But, one good quality I do have is... Common Courtesy <br />
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<b><u>Kids</u></b><br />
One of the kids projectile vomited spaghetti all over the bedroom, I will suck it up and take the kid and clean him up while Chris cleans the mess in the bedroom. I do this because I know it just breaks his heart to hear our little man crying because he's sick. Just common courtesy I think.<br />
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Our brand new baby boy is finally home from the hospital Chris is sitting in bed cooing to the baby who barely opens his eyes. Chris was never one to offer to change a diaper, especially a newborn and their disgusting runny shit. Somehow, I talked him into changing Andrew, it was probably his first time changing Andrew. He put Andrew between his legs and took off his diaper. "Hmm, weird he didn't poop." Chris looked up to me for guidance. Right when he said that Andrew decided to christen his daddy and projectile shit all over the front of him. Emilie and I got up from the bed and ran. <br />
"Where the hell are you going?" Chris yelled without opening his mouth all the way afraid poop would get into his mouth. Of course I ran to get something to clean Chris up with. Yea, that's what I was doing. More common courtesy of course.<br />
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<b><u>Critters</u></b><br />
I only have one example of common courtesy when it comes to critters.<br />
It was around the early 2000's and I worked for a beer distributor. My friend Debie and I were walking to go to lunch or something. We had to walk down a sidewalk between 2 buildings. Chatting away, like we always did. I noticed a few feet in front of us that there was a freaking huge snake on the very same sidewalk we were walking on. I'm serious guys, this looked just like the snake from Anaconda!!!<br />
This is exactly how I remember it, "Holy Shit!" I screamed to Debie. My hero instinct must have kicked in and I yelled "Watch out Debie!" While I pushed her out of the way of the biggest snake I've ever seen. I ran back the way we came and leaped inside the building. Once inside and safe I looked behind me and Debie wasn't there, so I looked out the window and noticed Debie outside still. But, she was even closer to where the snake was. She must not have been scared and decided to take a closer look at the nasty creature. Although, if you ask Debie she will tell the story different. But, I know what happened, and I was only trying to help her out. It's only common courtesy to save a friend from an anaconda right??<br />
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<b><u>Sex</u></b><br />
Who likes having sex when you haven't taken a shower in 8+ hours? Not me! I need to feel clean and fresh. So, why would someone be offended if you asked them to shower before doing the deed? Who knows!!<br />
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Sex and other things that go on in someone's bed is very intimate and raw. Oral sex ix one example. I certainly wouldn't be mad if I were a guy and set up camp down there and then my girl asked me not to be down there. I would ask why and be very, very thankful when she told me that she needed to fart. Hell yeah, that has got to be the number one example of common courtesy!!! <br />
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Just like me being selfish with my Cheetos, other people don't consider common courtesy very important. Not me though, as you can see from just a few of those examples I'm always looking out for others.<br />
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Thanks for reading,<br />
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xoxo<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54491/140/DA6321FFD21D1F5EF13B6FCE6FCFBA3E.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Bad Word Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05946586696660086018noreply@blogger.com4