<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:42:46.837-06:00</updated><title type='text'>can not make this stuff up</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>65</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-5206580254010334376</id><published>2009-07-30T11:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T11:22:30.666-05:00</updated><title type='text'>t shirt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SnHIfFxeDgI/AAAAAAAAAN0/x-TVTYWtp-k/s1600-h/summer+09+170.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SnHIfFxeDgI/AAAAAAAAAN0/x-TVTYWtp-k/s320/summer+09+170.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364289067626139138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SnHIe8Iu07I/AAAAAAAAANs/fBYbqUzzsHM/s1600-h/summer+09+169.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SnHIe8Iu07I/AAAAAAAAANs/fBYbqUzzsHM/s320/summer+09+169.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364289065039352754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only does she still live with her parents, but she still sleeps in their bed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-5206580254010334376?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/5206580254010334376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=5206580254010334376' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5206580254010334376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5206580254010334376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/07/t-shirt.html' title='t shirt'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SnHIfFxeDgI/AAAAAAAAAN0/x-TVTYWtp-k/s72-c/summer+09+170.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6776543608778653782</id><published>2009-05-26T16:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T16:48:08.719-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny things</title><content type='html'>This weekend we have been on the road a lot. Our last day of school was on Friday, so we headed to my grandmother's house on the lake. Our car rides are always very interesting. From the backseat I hear "mommy do you want something to eat?" I of course said, "yes" and stuck my hand out for her to place some pretend food in my hand. She started doing this about a week ago, and it was usually pumpkin seeds or popcorn. So I pretended to eat what she put in my hand, and she said "mommy did you like it? Did it taste good?" I said "Oh yes it was delicious." She then said, "mommy it was boogers!" Ha Ha Ha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6776543608778653782?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6776543608778653782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6776543608778653782' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6776543608778653782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6776543608778653782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/05/funny-things.html' title='Funny things'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-4242703105383880190</id><published>2009-05-20T19:46:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T20:01:54.519-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gymnastics finale</title><content type='html'>Emma had her big debut tonight at the Little Gym. Emma and her daddy took classes together, and tonight was the night where mommy got to come and see her performance. She was so excited for mommy to come. She said, "Mommy you come watch me at manastics?" Who could refuse that invitation. Anyway here is her performance...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ee0166116662b91" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v6.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0ee0166116662b91%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331687923%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2118F2DA948356400CAD85D727A17D63F5325B4A.61F0F6A0FD5B84D87D8AC9ACD50528C43121AFAA%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dee0166116662b91%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D6S-9vf84AiE1JM3Lrf2Xa8jq4ao&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v6.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0ee0166116662b91%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331687923%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2118F2DA948356400CAD85D727A17D63F5325B4A.61F0F6A0FD5B84D87D8AC9ACD50528C43121AFAA%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dee0166116662b91%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D6S-9vf84AiE1JM3Lrf2Xa8jq4ao&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-4242703105383880190?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=ee0166116662b91&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/4242703105383880190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=4242703105383880190' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/4242703105383880190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/4242703105383880190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/05/gymnastics-finale.html' title='Gymnastics finale'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6398910585689410505</id><published>2009-05-13T14:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T14:59:27.249-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't try this</title><content type='html'>I had my 4 month check up today at my ob/gyn.  It was just a routine exam, urine test, listen for heartbeat, all the normal stuff.  A friend told me that if you eat alot of sugar before the exam the baby will move around alot and they won't be able to find the heartbeat, resulting in an ultrasound.  So I loaded up on sugar and headed to the dr.  Well either my doctor is a superhero or that trick doesn't work!!  So in one last ditch effort, I mentioned having some cramps. Which is the truth, so I thought ultrasound here I come!  Actually it was down with the pants I go.  Instead of an ultrasound I got a vaginal exam!  I told my doctor "Oh we really don't need to do that."  And her response was "you complained, so off with your clothes from the waist down."  The moral of this story is: don't complain to your doctor and if you do prepare to be violated!  Emma thought it was funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6398910585689410505?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6398910585689410505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6398910585689410505' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6398910585689410505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6398910585689410505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/05/dont-try-this.html' title='Don&apos;t try this'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-5071837892702386838</id><published>2009-04-26T21:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T21:48:36.228-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You must be kidding</title><content type='html'>Tonight is an unusually night in our household, everyone is asleep and it is before 9 pm. Of course not me since I am a bit of a night owl, so I decided to spend some quality time with my computer. I was searching this online store looking for some cute capris for the summer and to my horror I found this. Now before I show you this photo, i want to preface this by saying this is a plus size website, pregnant or not this is where I must shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfUbt60f5AI/AAAAAAAAANk/RbAXXJ6E79k/s1600-h/p5804131v130a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfUbt60f5AI/AAAAAAAAANk/RbAXXJ6E79k/s320/p5804131v130a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329196209760363522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok some how the style name of these pants didn't make it with the picture. But the name of these capris are "pork chop capris." Really in a plus size store pork chop capris? Why not heifer crops or pork tenderloin bermudas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-5071837892702386838?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/5071837892702386838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=5071837892702386838' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5071837892702386838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5071837892702386838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/04/you-must-be-kidding.html' title='You must be kidding'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfUbt60f5AI/AAAAAAAAANk/RbAXXJ6E79k/s72-c/p5804131v130a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-7216221438442695127</id><published>2009-04-23T21:54:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T22:03:20.084-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Swimming Lessons</title><content type='html'>Emma started swimming lessons this week.  It would have been helpful for me to check the schedule before signing her up (it is 3 days in a row for 3 weeks)!  Ugh!  But she really loves it, and I love watching her love it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfEqzBhi-jI/AAAAAAAAANM/b-cyAcckFhE/s1600-h/swimming+lessons+011+(2).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfEqzBhi-jI/AAAAAAAAANM/b-cyAcckFhE/s320/swimming+lessons+011+(2).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328086890226842162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to play Marco Polo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfErrFH_TVI/AAAAAAAAANc/1iankE4Iju4/s1600-h/swimming+lessons+008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfErrFH_TVI/AAAAAAAAANc/1iankE4Iju4/s320/swimming+lessons+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328087853266062674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfErqzRVuqI/AAAAAAAAANU/ETPUOatbpLM/s1600-h/swimming+lessons+005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfErqzRVuqI/AAAAAAAAANU/ETPUOatbpLM/s320/swimming+lessons+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328087848473442978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-7216221438442695127?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/7216221438442695127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=7216221438442695127' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7216221438442695127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7216221438442695127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/04/swimming-lessons.html' title='Swimming Lessons'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SfEqzBhi-jI/AAAAAAAAANM/b-cyAcckFhE/s72-c/swimming+lessons+011+(2).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-5133013813463610031</id><published>2009-04-18T21:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T21:17:51.361-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Incredible Hulk</title><content type='html'>Yeah, so Emma did this in the car.  And she is not crying because she is in trouble, she is crying because we told her the incredible hulk doesn't get ice cream!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SeqI5i9NeiI/AAAAAAAAAM0/j1YEms69Z-I/s1600-h/hulk+071.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SeqI5i9NeiI/AAAAAAAAAM0/j1YEms69Z-I/s320/hulk+071.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326220031536495138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SeqI5X5rdLI/AAAAAAAAAMs/W5aan9WUS9E/s1600-h/hulk+072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SeqI5X5rdLI/AAAAAAAAAMs/W5aan9WUS9E/s320/hulk+072.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326220028568892594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here the incredible hulk takes a bath. Notice the green water. ugh!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SeqJneW5nmI/AAAAAAAAANE/8rBfFxqpRfc/s1600-h/hulk+075.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SeqJneW5nmI/AAAAAAAAANE/8rBfFxqpRfc/s320/hulk+075.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326220820576050786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SeqJnFvEjWI/AAAAAAAAAM8/MZ7oMVfYXmc/s1600-h/hulk+074.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SeqJnFvEjWI/AAAAAAAAAM8/MZ7oMVfYXmc/s320/hulk+074.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326220813966544226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-5133013813463610031?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/5133013813463610031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=5133013813463610031' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5133013813463610031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5133013813463610031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/04/incredible-hulk.html' title='Incredible Hulk'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SeqI5i9NeiI/AAAAAAAAAM0/j1YEms69Z-I/s72-c/hulk+071.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6718856679875279792</id><published>2009-03-31T22:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T23:07:11.432-05:00</updated><title type='text'>question?</title><content type='html'>have you ever had one of those moments when you hear a certain song, read a special devotional that you feel like God is talking directly to you? Well it has been happening to me alot lately. A friend suggested this devotional Jesus Calling, so in need of some "calling" i went and bought the book. and what i discovered inside the cover blew me away. it couldn't have been more accurate, if i had written the book myself. one phrase stood out to me and it was "secret things belong to the Lord." "Future things are secret things and when you try to figure this out you are taking what is Mine." wow! so my next encounter leads me to my big question. i was leaving kohls in collierville, and this wisenhimer pulled out in front of me cutting me off! Boy was I going to show him, so i got right up on his bumper! then in front of me was this bumper sticker. all it said was "between hope and faith." again an ahha moment. what does that mean? is this a sign? so i enlisted some friends from work and posed the question to them. one friend even went to some friends on the church side of the building to answer this burning question. their replies stunned me! they said it means absolutely nothing. what? impossible? people don't put stickers on their car for no reason. do you know how hard it is to get a sticker off your car? if you put one on, it means something! so my question is what does the statement between hope and faith mean?&lt;br /&gt;I got my answer tonight, and will post it tomorrow, but would love to hear what you think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6718856679875279792?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6718856679875279792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6718856679875279792' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6718856679875279792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6718856679875279792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/03/question.html' title='question?'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-448666453413593349</id><published>2009-03-04T19:32:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T19:43:44.004-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire Crotch</title><content type='html'>So I am not exactly sure what this word means in the "hollywood circles", but I know what it means in our house.&lt;br /&gt;Take an average ordinary pair of jeans....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/Sa8se3VB6jI/AAAAAAAAAMc/PkvgJqlcr4w/s1600-h/elmo2+015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/Sa8se3VB6jI/AAAAAAAAAMc/PkvgJqlcr4w/s320/elmo2+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309511394452957746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wear them for a while and this happens.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/Sa8tDqGSgzI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Vn9VTwi-On4/s1600-h/elmo2+016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/Sa8tDqGSgzI/AAAAAAAAAMk/Vn9VTwi-On4/s320/elmo2+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309512026556629810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell you my thighs have mystical powers. I am able to set fire to any kind of clothes, not just jeans. Smokey the Bear, you should be very very afraid. I could be proud of this if I had super powers and was walking or running at lightning speed, causing my pants to catch fire, but please most of you know I can barely limp along. I may need to invest in some flame retardant clothing, or be known as fire crotch forever!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-448666453413593349?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/448666453413593349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=448666453413593349' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/448666453413593349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/448666453413593349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/03/fire-crotch.html' title='Fire Crotch'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/Sa8se3VB6jI/AAAAAAAAAMc/PkvgJqlcr4w/s72-c/elmo2+015.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-3275211457522841791</id><published>2009-02-23T12:21:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T12:33:05.208-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter  to a friend</title><content type='html'>Dear Miller,&lt;br /&gt;Remember those carefree days of the summer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaLp_rmXmTI/AAAAAAAAAMM/gsc7aTznWK0/s1600-h/gtown+pool+part2+031.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaLp_rmXmTI/AAAAAAAAAMM/gsc7aTznWK0/s320/gtown+pool+part2+031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306060591240550706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well those days are gone my friend. Last night I lost my beloved paci. It all started when my parents asked if I wanted to go to a party store and get some balloons. Well at first that sounded like fun. But when we got home, things turned ugly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaLrNxut8dI/AAAAAAAAAMU/AY1U4q5brVk/s1600-h/pacifer+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaLrNxut8dI/AAAAAAAAAMU/AY1U4q5brVk/s320/pacifer+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306061932915978706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those balloons I bought became a one way taxi to Switzerland, the new home of my paci. I wanted to write you this letter to warn you! Hide your Bobbi somewhere really good. And if your parents try and take you to get "balloons" just say NO!&lt;br /&gt;Love Always,Emma Grace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-3275211457522841791?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/3275211457522841791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=3275211457522841791' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3275211457522841791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3275211457522841791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/02/letter-to-friend.html' title='Letter  to a friend'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaLp_rmXmTI/AAAAAAAAAMM/gsc7aTznWK0/s72-c/gtown+pool+part2+031.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-1531675406951050905</id><published>2009-02-22T21:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T21:17:15.409-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I love you more</title><content type='html'>For as long as we have been married (almost 9 years), money has always been a sore subject. I like (love) to spend it, and Tom would sure like to save it. We have done the Dave Ramsey thing, Crown Financial Ministries, blah, blah, blah. We have seen it all. The problem is all of these things are great, but if you are not on the same page it doesn't really matter. I have had the sneaking suspicion that Tom feels second when it comes to money. I know this because he actually said that! So I decided to show him and tell him that he comes first in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIUy11d3yI/AAAAAAAAAL8/v0a8gN2DzWA/s1600-h/pacifer+027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIUy11d3yI/AAAAAAAAAL8/v0a8gN2DzWA/s320/pacifer+027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305826174673215266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIUyhBoGsI/AAAAAAAAAL0/MLjBZoQSFtQ/s1600-h/pacifer+026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIUyhBoGsI/AAAAAAAAAL0/MLjBZoQSFtQ/s320/pacifer+026.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305826169087072962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, my friends, those are really credit cards. Sad, but indeed necessary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-1531675406951050905?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/1531675406951050905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=1531675406951050905' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1531675406951050905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1531675406951050905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-love-you-more.html' title='I love you more'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIUy11d3yI/AAAAAAAAAL8/v0a8gN2DzWA/s72-c/pacifer+027.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-1972711972518814545</id><published>2009-02-22T20:36:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T21:30:40.181-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wind Beneath My Paci</title><content type='html'>The day finally came...it was time to say goodbye to our beloved paci! We decided(I say "we" meaning Tom and Jen)decided it was time for the Nuk paci to head wherever the wind was going to take them. We headed to our local Party City and purchased 5 balloons. She really wanted a sponge bob balloon, but my husband suggested this balloon may be more appropriate... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIOWPC_HYI/AAAAAAAAALM/A5rbLkyGSk8/s1600-h/child_darth_vader_deluxe_th.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 61px; height: 125px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIOWPC_HYI/AAAAAAAAALM/A5rbLkyGSk8/s320/child_darth_vader_deluxe_th.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305819086154833282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't want Emma to be scarred and not like sponge bob!! Well we headed out to the driveway to begin the ceremony. Except, one little problem, Emma didn't want to participate. She told us "I don't want paci to fly. She is sick and doesn't want to fly." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIPtNQRaRI/AAAAAAAAALU/h6-3GkaZh4c/s1600-h/pacifer+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIPtNQRaRI/AAAAAAAAALU/h6-3GkaZh4c/s320/pacifer+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305820580322306322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say it didn't go well. The following is a photo montage of the event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIRmBjV2jI/AAAAAAAAALs/LNttgN6I3i8/s1600-h/pacifer+019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIRmBjV2jI/AAAAAAAAALs/LNttgN6I3i8/s320/pacifer+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305822655945234994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIRmDJuCAI/AAAAAAAAALk/JGN57C9NJSU/s1600-h/pacifer+013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIRmDJuCAI/AAAAAAAAALk/JGN57C9NJSU/s320/pacifer+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305822656374638594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIRl09ZNTI/AAAAAAAAALc/6W1lGSmZrgg/s1600-h/pacifer+007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIRl09ZNTI/AAAAAAAAALc/6W1lGSmZrgg/s320/pacifer+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305822652564845874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are more photos, but they are all kinda sad. I kept thinking, I wonder if Dave Ramsey would approve of me buying these balloons on my debit card, then just letting them go, so wasteful! To bad Dave!&lt;br /&gt;She did eventually get a little better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIYKpU9jHI/AAAAAAAAAME/7C9isMEagRc/s1600-h/pacifer+024.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIYKpU9jHI/AAAAAAAAAME/7C9isMEagRc/s320/pacifer+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305829882167397490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-1972711972518814545?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/1972711972518814545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=1972711972518814545' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1972711972518814545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1972711972518814545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/02/wind-beneath-my-paci.html' title='The Wind Beneath My Paci'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaIOWPC_HYI/AAAAAAAAALM/A5rbLkyGSk8/s72-c/child_darth_vader_deluxe_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6843580859716541305</id><published>2009-02-21T16:54:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T17:08:40.508-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New Haircut</title><content type='html'>Emma got a big girl haircut. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaCHqAM0IrI/AAAAAAAAAKc/bk7Aj5dECbk/s1600-h/newhaircut+009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaCHqAM0IrI/AAAAAAAAAKc/bk7Aj5dECbk/s320/newhaircut+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305389516720448178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe how much older she looks. It made me kinda sad, but I thinks she looks absolutely adorable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaCJUr5uIaI/AAAAAAAAAKk/yusxkeQ-ic8/s1600-h/newhaircut+006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaCJUr5uIaI/AAAAAAAAAKk/yusxkeQ-ic8/s320/newhaircut+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305391349517656482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6843580859716541305?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6843580859716541305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6843580859716541305' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6843580859716541305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6843580859716541305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/02/new-haircut.html' title='New Haircut'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SaCHqAM0IrI/AAAAAAAAAKc/bk7Aj5dECbk/s72-c/newhaircut+009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-3036479342345679208</id><published>2009-02-17T23:02:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T23:14:15.421-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We did a bad bad thing</title><content type='html'>Ok so lets play a little game. It is called what doesn't belong in the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZuW0A9-tSI/AAAAAAAAAKE/_uPgeilgNL0/s1600-h/mall+day+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZuW0A9-tSI/AAAAAAAAAKE/_uPgeilgNL0/s320/mall+day+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303998806516217122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any guesses.....&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZuXMhBYJAI/AAAAAAAAAKM/1js7_v8MkP8/s1600-h/mall+day+005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZuXMhBYJAI/AAAAAAAAAKM/1js7_v8MkP8/s320/mall+day+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303999227437261826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right the 2 year old in the middle. I had to use the night vision mode on my camera to capture these fabulous images. I don't know how this happened. Wait a minute, yes I do, duh WE LET HER IN THE BED ONE TIME! This weekend at my parents house we let her sleep with us, because my grandmother was going to be staying in the guest room. I know, big mistake. She use to refer to the bed as "mommy's Bed" and today she said "I sleep in OUR bed." Poor Tom is lucky if his butt cheek is on the bed. While we are on the subject of things that don't need to be in my bed , this is another one I could stand to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZuYnjEPmEI/AAAAAAAAAKU/rFuabd7eBrI/s1600-h/mall+day+007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZuYnjEPmEI/AAAAAAAAAKU/rFuabd7eBrI/s320/mall+day+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304000791354251330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-3036479342345679208?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/3036479342345679208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=3036479342345679208' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3036479342345679208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3036479342345679208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/02/we-did-bad-bad-thing.html' title='We did a bad bad thing'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZuW0A9-tSI/AAAAAAAAAKE/_uPgeilgNL0/s72-c/mall+day+004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-213071153434436325</id><published>2009-02-16T17:50:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T17:58:52.890-06:00</updated><title type='text'>@#$%*&amp; Crocs</title><content type='html'>Ugg these shoes!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZn8QFNFFzI/AAAAAAAAAJs/pOPaNM0I59w/s1600-h/bday+015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZn8QFNFFzI/AAAAAAAAAJs/pOPaNM0I59w/s320/bday+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303547389410613042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like most parents, I liked these shoes originally because they are easy to get on and clean.  You can wear them with socks or without. Every parents dream right? Well this is what happens when my 2 year old runs or even walks in them....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZn9Vzgvf2I/AAAAAAAAAJ8/a2H_DkMQYAg/s1600-h/bday+020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZn9Vzgvf2I/AAAAAAAAAJ8/a2H_DkMQYAg/s320/bday+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303548587252088674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZn9VgyjG1I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/2-7F5VZsp_A/s1600-h/bday+014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZn9VgyjG1I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/2-7F5VZsp_A/s320/bday+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303548582226500434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-213071153434436325?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/213071153434436325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=213071153434436325' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/213071153434436325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/213071153434436325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/02/crocs.html' title='@#$%*&amp; Crocs'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SZn8QFNFFzI/AAAAAAAAAJs/pOPaNM0I59w/s72-c/bday+015.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-4314918788617744791</id><published>2009-02-08T14:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T14:18:40.980-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops</title><content type='html'>So we go over to my mother in laws for dinner last night. Tom's brother is in town for a visit from Indiana, so we all assembled for some Commissary BBQ. Mmmmm....&lt;br /&gt;Well, apparently I was so into my BBQ sandwich that I failed to notice my chair was sitting on his mom's breathing tube cutting off her air supply! Nice Jen!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-4314918788617744791?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/4314918788617744791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=4314918788617744791' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/4314918788617744791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/4314918788617744791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/02/oops.html' title='Oops'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-4299044608405765645</id><published>2009-02-04T21:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T21:58:09.598-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty Training is Hard!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Man, I have to say I am exhausted! This potty training thing is for the birds! This is day 3 of Potty Training Boot Camp. Emma decided Monday that she wanted to wear panties like mommy. So all day Monday she did great, no accidents. Tuesday was a preschool day and she did have an accident shortly after I dropped her off. But when we got home we tried panties again, and she did great. So this brings me to today. Today was one of those days when you just want to say forget it, here's a diaper man! I think what is so frustrating is I will put her on the potty and she will not go. Then minutes later, wet pants! She had 2 accidents within 20 minutes at Target. I ended up buying underwear and stretch pants at the store. My life as a mom of a potty training toddler is portable potty in the back of the SUV, Dora panties, training panties, plastic panties, Tinkerbell panties, Ariel panties, extra socks, pull up pants, and overnight pull ups! Ugh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-4299044608405765645?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/4299044608405765645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=4299044608405765645' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/4299044608405765645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/4299044608405765645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/02/potty-training-is-hard.html' title='Potty Training is Hard!!!!!'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6857565608130548120</id><published>2009-02-04T21:07:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T21:46:45.030-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts.....</title><content type='html'>I recently had a religious epiphany. You may be wondering where this miraculous event occurred....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SYpYg77b3nI/AAAAAAAAAJc/5roJ2-U8Hio/s1600-h/egm+038.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SYpYg77b3nI/AAAAAAAAAJc/5roJ2-U8Hio/s320/egm+038.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299145234420850290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know, what you are thinking, but I really did have a religious experience. There is this game called the apple picker. There is a wall of apples and a little basket. You try and move the basket back and forth to catch the apples. So I dropped in my token and decided to play. The apples started to drop and I would move my little basket and try to catch these apples. Sometimes I would miss, but the ball would bounce and I would get so fixated on the missed ball, I would miss the other balls dropping. With a pitiful first score, I decided to play again. It wasn't until about the fourth time that I realized that before the apple would drop a light would flash behind the apple. Once I figured that out, the game was easy. I just needed to focus on the red light and I would win every time. Hmmm........Then it hit me like an apple from a tree, my religious moment (insert trumpets sound).&lt;br /&gt;I realized my relationship with God was like this apple game. When you focus on the past, missed opportunities, and regrets, you are unable to see all of the blessings that surround you in the present. It all depends on how you look at things. Like this game, if you focus on the light (God) you will always win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SYpcZMlW_-I/AAAAAAAAAJk/eu6pUhLW_5M/s1600-h/egm+027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SYpcZMlW_-I/AAAAAAAAAJk/eu6pUhLW_5M/s320/egm+027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299149499499216866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6857565608130548120?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6857565608130548120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6857565608130548120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6857565608130548120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6857565608130548120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/02/deep-thoughts.html' title='Deep Thoughts.....'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SYpYg77b3nI/AAAAAAAAAJc/5roJ2-U8Hio/s72-c/egm+038.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-3054875834337247632</id><published>2009-01-26T18:43:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T18:52:30.301-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Absurd</title><content type='html'>I was at the mall today, and Emma and I stopped by the little play area. It wasn't to crowded so I thought it would be ok to play for awhile. So I sat down, and immediately this woman's conversation caught my ear. She was talking to another lady about how her daughter goes to a preschool 2 days a week and how smart she is. She said "She isn't even 2 yet and they are putting her in a 3 yr old class because she is so smart and she bosses the other children, and can even tell the teachers what to do." Hmm, I am intrigued... It gets better my friends. She proceeds to tell the lady that they have already had her IQ tested!!! What!!! The kid is 1! Really.. So I am thinking we are in the presence of true greatness. So this gifted genius comes up to her mommy and holds her crotch and says "I yucky." Well if that is the vocabulary of a genius then I must say that most of Emma's friends will be joining her in Mensa classes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-3054875834337247632?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/3054875834337247632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=3054875834337247632' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3054875834337247632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3054875834337247632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/01/absurd.html' title='Absurd'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6543088077929963009</id><published>2009-01-19T20:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T21:09:04.542-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I did it!!!!</title><content type='html'>Wow! I just finished my first workout on the wii fit! This thing is amazing! The funny thing is unlike me it remembers the last time you were on the board. It remembers your last weight, BMI, and how much time you spent working out. Well, when I got on tonight it said "Hmmm it has been 18 days since we saw you last, and by the way you have gained 2 pounds." (Insert picture of me with a shotgun blowing up the tv).&lt;br /&gt;But I wasn't going to let this blatant taunting stop me. I had the eye of the tiger, Rocky's blood flowing threw me, I can do this! So I stepped on the wii board and my first exercise was hula hoop. Well let's just say my hips haven't moved like that in awhile. LOL. But the cool thing was my first attempt I only did 7 rotations, then 14, and finally 120! I played soccer, skiing, and I actually did the fun run. I must say I was so proud of myself for doing that run. It was only 4 minutes, but my heart and knees thought i had done 26.2. Surprisingly it was fun, and in no time I had 21 minutes in my fitness bank. As I type this, I have ice bags on my knees, and I have lubed up with lots of ben-gay. Trust me you don't want to see the pictures!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6543088077929963009?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6543088077929963009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6543088077929963009' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6543088077929963009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6543088077929963009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-did-it.html' title='I did it!!!!'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-7148363214816593551</id><published>2009-01-18T20:40:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T21:32:49.489-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Time</title><content type='html'>This weekend we hit the road to Alabama!  Emma and I went to visit my parents for the weekend.  My dad bought Emma and of course himself a harmonica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SXPpKpwGs_I/AAAAAAAAAJE/xFrR50Tc7-0/s1600-h/school+family+fun+016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SXPpKpwGs_I/AAAAAAAAAJE/xFrR50Tc7-0/s320/school+family+fun+016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292830356306047986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were so funny playing those harmonicas.  I thought about getting a washboard and joining the band. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SXPzIkSt6pI/AAAAAAAAAJM/yZ6j9pwsj3E/s1600-h/school+family+fun+017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SXPzIkSt6pI/AAAAAAAAAJM/yZ6j9pwsj3E/s320/school+family+fun+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292841315597150866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After their jam session, Papa and Emma went outside to hang up the bird feeder she made at preschool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SXPz-MrX-9I/AAAAAAAAAJU/F6bkzM2elUI/s1600-h/school+family+fun+014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SXPz-MrX-9I/AAAAAAAAAJU/F6bkzM2elUI/s320/school+family+fun+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292842236971056082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a great time visiting Nana and Papa!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-7148363214816593551?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/7148363214816593551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=7148363214816593551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7148363214816593551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7148363214816593551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/01/family-time.html' title='Family Time'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SXPpKpwGs_I/AAAAAAAAAJE/xFrR50Tc7-0/s72-c/school+family+fun+016.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-5821671436555804292</id><published>2009-01-15T21:22:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T21:35:20.341-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh</title><content type='html'>So I am sitting on the potty and I look up and see this....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SW__FI8IN0I/AAAAAAAAAI0/QuaCnJqbiRI/s1600-h/047.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SW__FI8IN0I/AAAAAAAAAI0/QuaCnJqbiRI/s320/047.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291728550947731266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really?  I mean couldn't the last person have changed the roll.  Then I realized I think the last person was me!&lt;br /&gt;So I tried this.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SW___F-C1cI/AAAAAAAAAI8/TBPw-OYIvlc/s1600-h/048.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SW___F-C1cI/AAAAAAAAAI8/TBPw-OYIvlc/s320/048.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291729546582873538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the old saying a little goes along way?  I didn't find that to be true!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-5821671436555804292?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/5821671436555804292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=5821671436555804292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5821671436555804292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5821671436555804292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/01/ugh.html' title='Ugh'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SW__FI8IN0I/AAAAAAAAAI0/QuaCnJqbiRI/s72-c/047.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-2650473384757618723</id><published>2009-01-12T19:48:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T19:54:16.160-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Lesson</title><content type='html'>This is just a funny little Emma story.  Emma, Katie (the dog), and I were laying in bed watching the Little Mermaid 2.  We don't usually allow the dog in the bed, but lately Katie has decided that she doesn't like the floor.  So we are watching the movie, and I hear this machine gun sound. I thought either we are under attack or Emma has had some rapid fire gas!  So i said, Emma, do you have gas?"  And she said, "no Katie did it!"  Tom and I are so proud!  That is one thing we can mark off our to do list to teach her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-2650473384757618723?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/2650473384757618723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=2650473384757618723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2650473384757618723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2650473384757618723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2009/01/life-lesson.html' title='Life Lesson'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-5570880800413784927</id><published>2008-12-30T15:10:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T15:27:33.245-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Emma's new pose</title><content type='html'>This picture really makes me laugh.  I have absolutely no idea where she learned this but it is so funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SVqPgnKf3NI/AAAAAAAAAIc/P3_imyExQe0/s1600-h/IMG_0163.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SVqPgnKf3NI/AAAAAAAAAIc/P3_imyExQe0/s320/IMG_0163.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285694903104298194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you wanted to see it again my dad took about 50 pictures!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SVqSGtbXXvI/AAAAAAAAAIs/t4LTqLCaWOw/s1600-h/IMG_0157.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SVqSGtbXXvI/AAAAAAAAAIs/t4LTqLCaWOw/s320/IMG_0157.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285697756643942130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-5570880800413784927?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/5570880800413784927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=5570880800413784927' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5570880800413784927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5570880800413784927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/12/emmas-new-pose.html' title='Emma&apos;s new pose'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SVqPgnKf3NI/AAAAAAAAAIc/P3_imyExQe0/s72-c/IMG_0163.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-5896496360324478307</id><published>2008-12-30T14:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T15:10:52.197-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus and the Whopper</title><content type='html'>On our way back to Memphis, Emma and I stopped into a Burger King in Tuscumbia Alabama. It was lunch time and moderately crowded. I ordered and told Emma to pick a seat. There was this group of about five construction guys sitting at a table. I thought I hope Emma doesn't pick the booth next to them, because I don't want alot of whistling and carrying on when I walk by(insert laugh here). So I did my best non sexy walk and sat in the booth next to them. Being totally judgemental, I thought they would probably be talking about football, flatulence, and babes.&lt;br /&gt;But to my surprise they were talking about Jesus. That's right Jesus! Out of the five guys at the table I would say that two of the men were believers, and the other three were seekers. The believers used words like free will, heaven, mercy, and the seekers used words like unsure, and hell. They asked the same questions that many ask, why do bad things happen to good people? Why does God allow children to die, war, sadness, and if I have been a sinner all my life can I really find forgiveness?&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to put down my chicken sandwich and scream yes, you can find forgiveness, grace, mercy, and peace! You just have to ask for it. For almost an hour they battled back and forth.  By the end of lunch, the three men still were not convinced about the saving grace of Jesus, but it did give me great peace to know that these men had friends that weren't embarrassed to talk about Jesus in a Burger King.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-5896496360324478307?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/5896496360324478307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=5896496360324478307' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5896496360324478307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5896496360324478307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/12/jesus-and-whopper.html' title='Jesus and the Whopper'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-8658060945306474675</id><published>2008-12-21T00:34:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T00:54:52.689-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Kraft Kamikaze</title><content type='html'>I am crazy for crafts!!! It all started when I took this scrapbooking class on how to make gift tags. The ad for the craft even said once you make your own tags you can never go back to store bought peel off tags! And I am here to testify they are right! So I decided to stock up on supplies and make all of my gift tags for Christmas this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SU3lfLtDG9I/AAAAAAAAAIE/mvuOyALatU4/s1600-h/crafts+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SU3lfLtDG9I/AAAAAAAAAIE/mvuOyALatU4/s320/crafts+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282130261855902674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SU3le1kKowI/AAAAAAAAAH8/6HIc2DxYg5g/s1600-h/crafts+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SU3le1kKowI/AAAAAAAAAH8/6HIc2DxYg5g/s320/crafts+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282130255913067266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had so much fun, but that fun has turned into a dark crafting obsession. I am now making ornaments&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SU3mZknYstI/AAAAAAAAAIM/RyBXEoRTNPA/s1600-h/crafts+069.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SU3mZknYstI/AAAAAAAAAIM/RyBXEoRTNPA/s320/crafts+069.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282131264975450834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture boards..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SU3nQJJh-GI/AAAAAAAAAIU/cdrASjmXsW0/s1600-h/crafts+066.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SU3nQJJh-GI/AAAAAAAAAIU/cdrASjmXsW0/s320/crafts+066.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282132202495277154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh this beautiful madness, you name it, I have probably mod podged it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-8658060945306474675?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/8658060945306474675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=8658060945306474675' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/8658060945306474675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/8658060945306474675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/12/kraft-kamikaze.html' title='Kraft Kamikaze'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SU3lfLtDG9I/AAAAAAAAAIE/mvuOyALatU4/s72-c/crafts+002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-3467355221698437457</id><published>2008-12-14T21:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T21:43:25.024-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One Size</title><content type='html'>We have all seen this "claim" one size fits all, on various articles of clothing, hats, socks, shirts, gloves, etc. But does one size really fit all?&lt;br /&gt;So as I was touring the aisles of Target tonight looking at all of the one size fits all stuff, I began to have some deep thoughts on the subject. I started thinking about all of my friends. Most of my friends there is no way I could wear their one size fits all , and no way they could wear my one size fits all. So how do designers get away with making this claim? So still deep in thought, I went to pick up my pictures at the photo lab. (Side note: This was the 4 time I tried to pick up my pictures and Christmas cards a.k.a. photogate). So I get to the counter and my pics are finally ready and the young lady behind the counter checks me out. She says "so sorry about you wait." I heard, "so sorry about your weight." And I am staring there looking at her and thinking you're no skinny prize either. And I said, "I have never had anyone say that to me before," she looked confused and I was disturbed, then I realized what she meant. Duh she was sorry I had to wait for my pictures. When we both realized what the other was saying we both died laughing. One size doesn't fit all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-3467355221698437457?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/3467355221698437457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=3467355221698437457' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3467355221698437457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3467355221698437457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/12/one-size.html' title='One Size'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6005753014733976767</id><published>2008-11-30T23:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T23:43:18.771-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Literally</title><content type='html'>I have discovered that 2 year olds are very literal creatures. Over the Thanksgiving holiday, Emma and I spent some time at my parent's house in Alabama. One night, Em was getting ready for her bath, so my mom had her stripped down and ready to toss in the bath, when she declared "I brshh teff." (Loosely translated means I brush teeth). So my mom sits her on the counter and she starts to brush her teeth. She worked really hard on the top teeth, so I said, "now do your bottom." So she takes the toothbrush to those cute little butt cheeks and tries to "brush the bottom!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6005753014733976767?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6005753014733976767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6005753014733976767' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6005753014733976767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6005753014733976767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/11/literally.html' title='Literally'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-103025149090557244</id><published>2008-11-22T12:09:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T12:50:04.504-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Craft days or Crap days</title><content type='html'>WARNING:This rambling, I mean post may offend some. Caution while reading.&lt;br /&gt;Today was our big craft show at a local church. Emily and I had big hopes for this show. We decided it couldn't be any worse than our last one, ahh but indeed it could be worse. The last show we did was an outdoor show and the big seller was the pvc pipe marshmallow shooter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SShTnq0cO3I/AAAAAAAAAH0/LRJZEcLnbNA/s1600-h/16_779.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SShTnq0cO3I/AAAAAAAAAH0/LRJZEcLnbNA/s320/16_779.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271555304811412338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean I can see what the big draw is, being the first to claim you put someones eye out with a marshmallow, cool right? Well this show the big seller was wait for it...... Santa poop. Yes, you did read that right, Santa poop. Of course this booth was right across from us, so you could see all of the buying going on. And the infamous marshmallow shooter was only a few booths down. So this is my problem... to me a craft show should be a craft show! A craft to me is something YOU make. Not something you buy from China for pennies and sell for dollars. Sorry friends, but some of this stuff is just junk! I have to many crafty friends not to appreciate true talent and the art of creating something with your own two hands, not the hands of Feng Shui. I have decided that many of the people who come to "craft shows" don't appreciate someones fine work. As I walked around looking at the booths I felt like shaking the hands of the handful of people who actually made stuff. Like the old guy who made duck calls, the decoupage cross lady, and the lord help me crochet cup holder lady. I didn't say I would necessary buy any of these things, but it was nice to see something handmade.&lt;br /&gt;If nothing else these past few craft shows have been an experience.&lt;br /&gt;*AND NOW A LITTLE SHOUT OUT TO MY CRAFT CLUB:Thanks for being such great and inspiring people. I love our Monday nights together! It is great to have such fun, creative friends to hang out with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-103025149090557244?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/103025149090557244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=103025149090557244' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/103025149090557244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/103025149090557244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/11/craft-days-or-crap-days.html' title='Craft days or Crap days'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SShTnq0cO3I/AAAAAAAAAH0/LRJZEcLnbNA/s72-c/16_779.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-1325794799481628127</id><published>2008-11-10T23:47:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T00:13:18.793-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Traditions</title><content type='html'>This past weekend we headed to Tuscaloosa for Alabama's homecoming. I was so excited because I haven't been back to Tuscaloosa since I graduated a few centuries ago. I was especially excited to take Emma to the big homecoming parade. So my parents, my aunt and uncle, Tom, Emma and I headed to T town for the parade and game. As soon as I stepped on campus it was like I never left. Even though my life and body for that matter all have changed, it was like stepping back in time. No, I wasn't wearing my Dorothy red slippers, but it did seem like I was back in Kansas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkeu-ONCLI/AAAAAAAAAHE/3oZFabgx0bk/s1600-h/emma+halloween+250.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkeu-ONCLI/AAAAAAAAAHE/3oZFabgx0bk/s320/emma+halloween+250.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267275031511894194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parade was really cool and Emma loved it. She got so excited when the people on floats would wave to her. She would just laugh and wave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkfh3ljEgI/AAAAAAAAAHM/xyET16Gun9c/s1600-h/emma+halloween+258.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkfh3ljEgI/AAAAAAAAAHM/xyET16Gun9c/s320/emma+halloween+258.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267275905904087554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the parade my parents took Emma and headed back to Birmingham. Tom and I headed over to the stadium for the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkhm9lSt-I/AAAAAAAAAHk/BnZbAEgO-KI/s1600-h/emma+halloween+291.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkhm9lSt-I/AAAAAAAAAHk/BnZbAEgO-KI/s320/emma+halloween+291.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267278192436230114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkhmLr1FuI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Y5Y36ANc1so/s1600-h/emma+halloween+267.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkhmLr1FuI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Y5Y36ANc1so/s320/emma+halloween+267.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267278179041875682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkhl-I50bI/AAAAAAAAAHU/59vBtd8OvmM/s1600-h/emma+halloween+261.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkhl-I50bI/AAAAAAAAAHU/59vBtd8OvmM/s320/emma+halloween+261.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267278175405724082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tide rolled to victory over Arkansas State and improved their perfect season to 9-0. It was the perfect weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-1325794799481628127?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/1325794799481628127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=1325794799481628127' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1325794799481628127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1325794799481628127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/11/traditions.html' title='Traditions'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SRkeu-ONCLI/AAAAAAAAAHE/3oZFabgx0bk/s72-c/emma+halloween+250.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-7769896692306435535</id><published>2008-11-10T23:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T23:47:48.189-06:00</updated><title type='text'>3 thirty somethings+3 two year olds+craft night=#@*&amp;#@*@#</title><content type='html'>Ahh, Martha Stewart we do love you, but I would have to guess that little Alexis wasn't around while you were creating paper wreaths, and wooden door signs. That might be why grown up Alexis has a new show called "Whatever Martha." Anyway, tonight was craft club night. I love craft club night, mainly for the people that are there, but it is just fun to get out of the house for awhile. I have become obsessed with Michaels and Archivers. It seems like I am in there everyday buying something fun. Needless to say, friends you be gettin some handmade gifts this year. But tonight's club would be a bit different since I would be bringing the Emminator. I prayed for a peaceful time and hoped for the best. I could just end here, but that wouldn't be any fun, now would it. Some highlights from the night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Potty Wars Part Deaux&lt;/strong&gt;: Avery, Faith, and Emma all wanting to use the Elmo potty at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;How many times can we take our diaper off game, followed by the lets dump cheerios all over the floor game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;My child wanting to paint with mod podge. Why do I bother to try explaining to a 2 year old it is not paint!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;And finally three frazzled mommies sitting on the couch thinking do I smell poop again!!!!&lt;br /&gt;But through it all I had the best time! Viva la craft club! Ole&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-7769896692306435535?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/7769896692306435535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=7769896692306435535' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7769896692306435535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7769896692306435535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/11/3-thirty-somethings3-two-year-oldscraft.html' title='3 thirty somethings+3 two year olds+craft night=#@*&amp;#@*@#'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-4425615840805373242</id><published>2008-10-30T23:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T23:54:32.171-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mama said there would be days like this, Mama said</title><content type='html'>Don't you just love song titles about life:Papa don't Preach, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Purple Rain (well maybe not that one), and Mama said there would be days like this. Hmm, I don't know if my mom has ever said that, but I am sure somewhere in the world someone has heard that.  Well mama, today was my day.  The day started out as usual, alarm clock goes off, stumble out of bed (literally), and hit the bathroom.  The day begins to turn sour  (literally again) when I realize the milk has expired and there is nothing for breakfast. This doesn't do a body good.  Fast forward, we are now at the Preschool and Emma insists on being carried!!!!!  I think this bothers me so much because it is way to hard to do it with my bad legs!  Today was also party day at school.  Yippee! Anyway, after school I am just super tired, and Emma decides to take this opportunity to have a full on, four alarm, get some help, i need tylenol, all out fit.  That was it! No more will I be a participant to these childish rants.  Oh did I mention she is two! But the best was yet to come . We are cleaning out our guest room for company this weekend.  Our dear friend is dog sitting for us while we are out of town.  So we have been working hard to get the room ready.  Yesterday, I stacked up three boxes of trash, and next to the boxes was my box where I have been storing all of my jewelry for the shows we have been doing.  Before I left for my friend's baby shower, I told Tom there are three boxes of trash that need to go out.  He said ok.  Flash forward- When I got home tonight I went to  get some of the bracelets I made out of my box of stuff and well the box wasn't there. The following is a dramatization of our conversation:  "Tom, umm where is my box with my jewelry stuff?"  &lt;br /&gt;"You said to throw away three boxes."  "Yes the three boxes stacked up, not the one with all of my work in it."  "You said three boxes."  "yes, but all of my stuff was in that box."  "You said three boxes." The end &lt;br /&gt;*no one was injured in this dramatization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think if he at least had apologized it would have been easier to take. My song title for this day is When Doves Cry by Prince&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-4425615840805373242?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/4425615840805373242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=4425615840805373242' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/4425615840805373242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/4425615840805373242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/10/mama-said-there-would-be-days-like-this.html' title='Mama said there would be days like this, Mama said'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-7342127496858495617</id><published>2008-10-25T17:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T18:03:07.965-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Learned Showering with a 2 year old</title><content type='html'>So my husband has been working alot on the weekends. It was time to shower and I decided Emma gets into way too many things, so just put her in the shower with me. These are a few of my keen observations from this event. &lt;br /&gt;First, if you have a muffin top* (see definition below) water will spray off of it and into your child's eyes. Second, your child will stare wild eyed at your naked body! You must get passed this, but I know she was thinking "why does mommy have those huge watermelons stuck on her chest ,and how do they stay on?" She probably concluded that the melons rest so nicely on that Costco muffin top, that must be how they stay on. Third, while you are thrashing around with your wash cloth, soap will probably fly into their eyes! And I can tell you Irish Spring does burn. And lastly, if you have any cups in the shower take them out! Because when your child fills them up with hot water, chances are good that when they drink the water they will burn their throat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*muffin top-that large flappy part of skin in the lower abdomen that hangs over your belly. This phenomenon happens usually after child birth. And despite sit ups and crunches it just doesn't go away!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-7342127496858495617?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/7342127496858495617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=7342127496858495617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7342127496858495617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7342127496858495617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/10/things-i-learned-showering-with-2-year.html' title='Things I Learned Showering with a 2 year old'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6572734769805859744</id><published>2008-10-25T17:15:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T17:43:49.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahh Tranquility</title><content type='html'>Last weekend, my husband and I packed up the family truckster and headed down south. Huntsville to be exact. We had a fun filled anniversary weekend planned sans our child. Since Emma was born 2 years ago we haven't had a night alone. So we dropped her off at Nana and Papa's, and headed for the hotel. We decided to stay at the Westin Bridge Street. The hotel overlooks this amazing outdoor mall, movie theater, gondala rides, paddle boats, outdoor carousal, just about everything. The Westin also has a very nice spa. So Saturday we headed to lunch at a place called Ketchup before my spa day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SQOc3PpznzI/AAAAAAAAAG0/0nY945yCBqE/s1600-h/love+loud+designs+093.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SQOc3PpznzI/AAAAAAAAAG0/0nY945yCBqE/s320/love+loud+designs+093.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261221262607490866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SQOc2iT00cI/AAAAAAAAAGs/xksfegT_H5Y/s1600-h/love+loud+designs+088.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SQOc2iT00cI/AAAAAAAAAGs/xksfegT_H5Y/s320/love+loud+designs+088.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261221250435699138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SQOc2AqVDQI/AAAAAAAAAGk/gzOVFZQDovQ/s1600-h/love+loud+designs+062.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SQOc2AqVDQI/AAAAAAAAAGk/gzOVFZQDovQ/s320/love+loud+designs+062.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261221241403280642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lunch I headed back to the Westin for my spa day. I got a massage, manicure, pedicure, eyebrow wax, and a leg rejuvenating treatment. Well after the lady doing my eyebrows removed 3 layers of my epidermis it was time to head back up to the room.&lt;br /&gt;Feeling rejuvenated and kinda pretty we headed out for a fancy dinner. And fancy to me means no chicken fingers and french fries, and no sippy cups! We ate at a place called Dolce. It was this retro Italian place. It was so dark in there I could barely see Tom, much less read the menu. But the food was great and it was nice to be able to actually chew my food, instead of scarfing food down before my child goes nuts. The cool thing about this hotel is we never had to leave!! Everything was right there. On Sunday we saw to fabulous movies, Fireproof and Billy the Early Years. Overall the weekend was a time to reconnect and relax. We both decided we need to do that more often!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6572734769805859744?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6572734769805859744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6572734769805859744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6572734769805859744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6572734769805859744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/10/ahh-tranquility.html' title='Ahh Tranquility'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SQOc3PpznzI/AAAAAAAAAG0/0nY945yCBqE/s72-c/love+loud+designs+093.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-2571138534847537006</id><published>2008-10-08T20:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T20:45:23.439-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A few musings</title><content type='html'>In my spare time recovering from the dreaded stomach virus, I was watching the news.  They were doing a story on obese people  in America.  So they roll tape on obese people walking on the streets of America.  Can you imagine being the unfortunate victim of one cameraman's eye. I mean what do they say go out and video a bunch of fat people walking around!!  I guess they have to have video.  But really, can you imagine sitting down and turning on the news and seeing your belly walk across the screen?  Awful. I guess that is why they never show their poor faces.  My other musing: I was reading the bottle of Pepto Bismol and it says something like this, "a harmless blackening of your stool or tongue may occur."  A harmless blackening...... is no one else alarmed by this.  I personally find it alarming that my tongue might turn black.  That could make for some awkward conversational moments.  I think I may have too much time on my hands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-2571138534847537006?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/2571138534847537006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=2571138534847537006' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2571138534847537006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2571138534847537006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/10/few-musings.html' title='A few musings'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-9025634583594078151</id><published>2008-10-08T16:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T16:51:35.067-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stomach Virus 08</title><content type='html'>Ahh, no matter how much I washed my hands and prayed it away, it happened: the dreaded stomach virus.   So I have compiled a list of the 3 favorite things I can now do now that I don't have  the dreaded stomach virus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  My skinny jeans fit perfectly now (this could be because I haven't eaten since Sunday).&lt;br /&gt;2.  I can now take a shower (without the great desire to fall into the fetal position next to the toilet).&lt;br /&gt;And the number 1 thing I can now do: pass gas without pooping my pants!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-9025634583594078151?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/9025634583594078151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=9025634583594078151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/9025634583594078151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/9025634583594078151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/10/stomach-virus-08.html' title='Stomach Virus 08'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-1655533343777392081</id><published>2008-10-04T21:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T21:44:31.502-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My jeans are laughing at me</title><content type='html'>So I lost a few pounds and decided to buy a few nice things in hopefully a smaller size. Because lets be real here, when your jeans are to big they sag and I personally could start a pants fire with all the chaffing going on. So I was "professionally" fitted for some jeans, and to my delight I was a size smaller. Now I will confess they seemed a little tight to me, but the sales lady assured me they looked great and that jeans always stretch a little. Well as soon as I brought the new jeans home, there was this immediate tension that existed between my new size and my old size. At night, I swear I could hear sounds from my closet, mumblings if you will. I distinctly heard one pair say, "you will be back," and another old pair said "you have new pants but can you button them?" All very valid points from my closet friends, but I was determined to defy the odds!! So today I put on my smaller size jeans, and wouldn't you know it, I did have trouble buttoning them. Were my old jeans right? It couldn't be! So I remembered what Scarlett O'Hara said, "As God as my witness I will never wear those fat jeans again!" I am currently accepting applications for a walking partner, so I can stay in my new jeans and maybe buy some new ones!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-1655533343777392081?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/1655533343777392081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=1655533343777392081' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1655533343777392081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1655533343777392081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-jeans-are-laughing-at-me.html' title='My jeans are laughing at me'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-8465211582089192435</id><published>2008-10-04T15:17:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T15:49:01.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Special Time</title><content type='html'>Today was the NICU reunion at Baptist Women's Hospital. This is the second year we have attended, and we look forward to the first of October every year. The kids dress up in their costumes, and they have food, games, and a moon bounce. The coolest thing to me is they weigh , measure, and make a clay handprint of each child. They made a certificate with Emma's birth weight and her weight now. It is so amazing to see how much she has grown! At birth she was a tiny 3 lbs and now she is a whopping 25 lbs! Each year I like to just sit down and look around. I am surrounded by hundreds of God's little miracles. As the kids run by I read their NICU stickers that have their birth date and their birth weight. Some of these little babies running around me weighed less than a pound at birth!! Of course some of these little preemies have obvious physical problems, but many of them appeared to be happy and healthy. Each year this reunion takes Tom and I back to that time when our little girl was fighting for her life, and how scared we both were. We will always have this special unspoken bond with many of these parents of preemies, as well as the doctors and nurses of Baptist Women's Hospital. We feel so blessed that God has chosen us to raise Emma for Him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SOfVXd2DoeI/AAAAAAAAAGM/ykmYG_8IKrM/s1600-h/bumblebee.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SOfVXd2DoeI/AAAAAAAAAGM/ykmYG_8IKrM/s320/bumblebee.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253402089476039138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SOfVu1VKPfI/AAAAAAAAAGU/d_MXCDL1cSM/s1600-h/DSC00263.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SOfVu1VKPfI/AAAAAAAAAGU/d_MXCDL1cSM/s320/DSC00263.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253402490917502450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SOfWTgWHwqI/AAAAAAAAAGc/uucOIRDZYm8/s1600-h/DSC00275.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SOfWTgWHwqI/AAAAAAAAAGc/uucOIRDZYm8/s320/DSC00275.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253403120939549346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-8465211582089192435?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/8465211582089192435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=8465211582089192435' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/8465211582089192435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/8465211582089192435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/10/special-time.html' title='A Special Time'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SOfVXd2DoeI/AAAAAAAAAGM/ykmYG_8IKrM/s72-c/bumblebee.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-5205981150489874938</id><published>2008-09-30T22:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T22:30:20.299-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Al Fresco</title><content type='html'>So I never go to Taco Bell, but I was going to be late for my mom's group so I stopped at the only place on the way. So as I peruse the menu, I noticed they have gone al fresco. Now before I go on, I should mention that while ordering I really had no idea what al fresco meant. I just knew this al fresco burrito didn't have rice on it! I am not sure why they put rice in burritos, but maybe some people like that. Anyway, I learned what the spanish to english translation of al fresco is: dry, chewy, no much taste burrito. I should mention I had them hold the tomatoes, so I am sure the juice from the tomatoes might have helped with the dryness issue. The other thing al fresco stands for is overpriced! The loaded chicken stuffed burrito-89 cents, al fresco 2.89! So my vote for the al fresco grilled chicken no taste dry burrito-sad face!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-5205981150489874938?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/5205981150489874938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=5205981150489874938' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5205981150489874938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/5205981150489874938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/al-fresco.html' title='Al Fresco'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-221204689928630125</id><published>2008-09-26T21:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T22:25:11.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Faith</title><content type='html'>We went to Chick fil A the other night for a gourmet dinner. It was kid's night, so if your kid is screaming, it was drowned out by everyone else's kids. Emma wanted to play in the little fun zone area, so of course after not eating i rewarded her with a trip to play. Bad Britney. To my knowledge, Emma has never played in the "fun zone." She can sometimes be shy and scared in new situations, so I was intrigued to see how this would go. She would start out by climbing up one step, then immediately want to come down. But the thing was she couldn't put her feet down on the next step. After about the millionth time, I admit I was a little frustrated. I said "Emma just put your feet down, you know the step is there." And just as the words left my mouth, i had this epiphany. A chick fil a epiphany. As I looked at her little legs dangling there it occurred to me that her lack of trust that the step would be there is alittle like faith. As Christians, we are asked to believe in something we can't see. Like the step, we know it exists, but do we believe it will be there? Belief in God is a leap or a step of faith. Trusting in things not always seen is difficult, but believing there is nothing is tragic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2lVkxgJ4I/AAAAAAAAAF8/AOSc6V7BJh4/s1600-h/DSC00165.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2lVkxgJ4I/AAAAAAAAAF8/AOSc6V7BJh4/s200/DSC00165.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250534530651006850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Emma, it just took attempt after attempt to realize that indeed, each time something was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2mXDAnveI/AAAAAAAAAGE/fCaqeM-ShBs/s1600-h/DSC00166.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2mXDAnveI/AAAAAAAAAGE/fCaqeM-ShBs/s200/DSC00166.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250535655458979298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-221204689928630125?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/221204689928630125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=221204689928630125' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/221204689928630125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/221204689928630125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/faith.html' title='Faith'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2lVkxgJ4I/AAAAAAAAAF8/AOSc6V7BJh4/s72-c/DSC00165.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-1200773569178284338</id><published>2008-09-26T21:38:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T21:58:16.677-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If You Just Believe......</title><content type='html'>While we were visiting my parents this weekend, we decided to go to the new outdoor mall. This place is really cool. It has an outdoor carousel, gondola rides, paddle boat rentals, and great food places like Ketchup! To every parents dismay they also have little toy vending machines. Ugh. Emma went to Hobo school and has learned to search for money left in the slots, whats next robbing the wishing well water features? Anyway, like an eagle spying her prey in this case a plastic alien, she was on the hunt. She would not be deterred. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2edACfMGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/vuTzPpm619U/s1600-h/DSC00013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2edACfMGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/vuTzPpm619U/s200/DSC00013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250526961647693922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well of course I didn't have any quarters on hand, and they don't yet accept Am Ex, Emma was out of luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2fWjhQtBI/AAAAAAAAAFs/b_yR4Hw88Uw/s1600-h/DSC00014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2fWjhQtBI/AAAAAAAAAFs/b_yR4Hw88Uw/s200/DSC00014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250527950424552466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sad, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2gHMW07CI/AAAAAAAAAF0/0Ev1eKmOBT4/s1600-h/DSC00015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2gHMW07CI/AAAAAAAAAF0/0Ev1eKmOBT4/s200/DSC00015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250528786020363298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhh, back the bus up, what just happened here. Well it is obvious, she has a special gift! She indeed got that alien, unfortunately, some poor kid left it in the shoot. Aw sweet victory!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-1200773569178284338?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/1200773569178284338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=1200773569178284338' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1200773569178284338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1200773569178284338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/if-you-just-believe.html' title='If You Just Believe......'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2edACfMGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/vuTzPpm619U/s72-c/DSC00013.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-1468768607298122994</id><published>2008-09-26T21:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T21:37:52.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise!</title><content type='html'>Last weekend, my brother and I hosted a surprise 60th birthday party for my parents. We had the party catered by their favorite mexican restaurant! It was a bit difficult planning a surprise party three states away, but the look on their faces was the payoff! Everyone had a great time, including Emma who was more than willing to open Nana and Papa's presents!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2bZC5sQlI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Vc0l1LcfFwA/s1600-h/DSC00053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2bZC5sQlI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Vc0l1LcfFwA/s200/DSC00053.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250523595161748050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2cT4Q5SjI/AAAAAAAAAFc/xFQn-gXm7n8/s1600-h/DSC00072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2cT4Q5SjI/AAAAAAAAAFc/xFQn-gXm7n8/s200/DSC00072.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250524605918562866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-1468768607298122994?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/1468768607298122994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=1468768607298122994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1468768607298122994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1468768607298122994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/surprise.html' title='Surprise!'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SN2bZC5sQlI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Vc0l1LcfFwA/s72-c/DSC00053.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-8179320338547899317</id><published>2008-09-22T22:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T22:43:57.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'>you tube</title><content type='html'>So I haven't figured out how to post a video, so I had to post this whole video bar thing to your right. Anyway, you can hear the song I was talking about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-8179320338547899317?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/8179320338547899317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=8179320338547899317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/8179320338547899317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/8179320338547899317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/you-tube.html' title='you tube'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-602643655878816426</id><published>2008-09-22T22:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T22:29:30.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Britney</title><content type='html'>Like everyone I watch with disgust as the paparazzi hounded poor Britney. It seemed like her every mis-step was captured on some short of film or video. I am no Dr. Phil but I think Britney lost touch with reality for a time and I think her soul. I of course don't know Britney, but I felt sorry for her. It must be horrible to know that everyone around you wants something from you, using you then losing you. Everyone that is except the one that most celebs deny-God. I think it is so easy to fall into this trap of judging people, but instead shouldn't we be praying for people. Helping those that are lost find something greater than themselves. I stumbled onto this song by Christian artist Bebo Norman. Oddly enough it is called Britney. And you guessed it it's about Britney. My favorite line in the song is "I know love goes around the world we know, and you never see it coming back, but I can see it coming back for you." Then at the end of the song the lyrics change and he says"I know love goes around the world we know and you never see it coming back, but I can see Him coming back for you!" I can't seem to shake that line from my head. Maybe because it is so comforting to know that He is coming back for you!&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_Q_wVfGAfA &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-602643655878816426?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/602643655878816426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=602643655878816426' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/602643655878816426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/602643655878816426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/britney.html' title='Britney'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-281055165350314472</id><published>2008-09-17T21:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T22:04:38.602-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I Raising a Couch Potato?</title><content type='html'>It is so funny, we moms just seem to fall into routines. For us there is a certain routine on the days I work, and a totally relaxed routine on the days we are home.  Of course school days are super rushed and usually start with me dragging Emma from the bed, just in time to walk out the door.  You might could say she is a late sleeper.  The rub with routines is you don't really notice things that are not part of your everyday routine.  Well that is until last night.  When my husband got home, Emma was so excited to see him. She ran over to her Dora the Explorer House (actually it is a mansion! ) Anyway, she sat down and said, "Daddy play Dora".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SNHELsqGkeI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ayZeWY4s5wA/s1600-h/roll+tide+014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SNHELsqGkeI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ayZeWY4s5wA/s200/roll+tide+014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247190746108695010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word I would like to focus on here is "play". I don't think in all my days has she ever said "mommy play".  Hmmm, now I am no Sherlock Holmes, but I think there might be something here.  So I began to review our routine in my head, and I realized we are always on the go, shopping, going to lunch, shopping, working, shopping, and shopping.  Stop reading here if you can't handle a pity party.... I guess that made me sad. Most of the people who know me know I am struggling with chronic knee pain.  I will save you the pitiful details, but I just can't do alot of the things I want to do!  I think it seemed easier to just stay painfully busy than to stop and enjoy the silence.  I can't get on the floor and play, much less take her to the park and play.I have grown afraid of doing the things I love the most.&lt;br /&gt;End pity party-So I have decided I must do better. It all became clear as I laid her trying to sleep.  I felt this calm presence and I heard these words "Live Simply".  So this is my new motto. I love it. Just stop the time sucking activities and enjoy life.  I need to recruit some friends to help me hit the parks and the pavement and get out there and make a change even if it is painful.  Emma needs me to do it and I want to do it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SNHEt5AeuhI/AAAAAAAAAFM/FTBG_SnrrFw/s1600-h/roll+tide+010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SNHEt5AeuhI/AAAAAAAAAFM/FTBG_SnrrFw/s200/roll+tide+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247191333539330578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-281055165350314472?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/281055165350314472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=281055165350314472' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/281055165350314472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/281055165350314472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/am-i-raising-couch-potato.html' title='Am I Raising a Couch Potato?'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SNHELsqGkeI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ayZeWY4s5wA/s72-c/roll+tide+014.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-3475624255230460060</id><published>2008-09-09T23:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T23:02:09.659-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Carrot part 2</title><content type='html'>Click on the second picture and you can really see my carrot friend smile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-3475624255230460060?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/3475624255230460060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=3475624255230460060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3475624255230460060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3475624255230460060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/carrot-part-2.html' title='Carrot part 2'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-7207395204392725258</id><published>2008-09-09T22:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T23:00:25.581-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is a Carrot just a Carrot?</title><content type='html'>So you all have seen these crazy reports on tv, where people claim to see images in their food. One lady saw Mary in a cinnamon roll, someone saw Jesus in a piece of toast, and more recently a husband and wife claim to have a Cheetos in the shape of Jesus on the cross. Mmm really? The crazy thing is people actually buy this stuff on Ebay. Well I thought this all a bit of rubbish until tonight at dinner. We had pasta and a mix of veggies. Emma of course didn't eat her dinner, so I grabbed her plate and looked down and I saw this little carrot face staring back at me. Can you believe it !It happened right here in Memphis Tennessee, my very own carrot face. I spent the next 20 minutes trying to capture this on film. My husband would just keep walking by saying words like, obsessed, give up, really Jen. But I would not be denied. The pics don't quite capture the essence of my new carrot friend, but I did the best I could. My new carrot friend has inspired me to buy a new camera and wait for my next veggie encounter. I will not let my new friends down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdGEsdVHPI/AAAAAAAAAE0/rRufTPqQDXU/s1600-h/pottytraining+012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdGEsdVHPI/AAAAAAAAAE0/rRufTPqQDXU/s200/pottytraining+012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244237337563831538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdGE_uYsjI/AAAAAAAAAE8/Yd5o3xnz4kk/s1600-h/pottytraining+013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdGE_uYsjI/AAAAAAAAAE8/Yd5o3xnz4kk/s200/pottytraining+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244237342735643186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-7207395204392725258?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/7207395204392725258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=7207395204392725258' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7207395204392725258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7207395204392725258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/is-carrot-just-carrot.html' title='Is a Carrot just a Carrot?'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdGEsdVHPI/AAAAAAAAAE0/rRufTPqQDXU/s72-c/pottytraining+012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-3558774616249231496</id><published>2008-09-09T22:27:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T22:43:26.264-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty Training Boot Camp Day 1</title><content type='html'>Emma and I both stayed home from preschool today because we both were feeling a bit under the weather. So what better time to try and potty train your 2 year old. My mom's friend found these Carter's training pants, so I decided to give them a try. The first pair in the bag was just a plain white pair. When she put them on it reminded me of Risky Business, all she was missing was the socks and the shades. But here is the rub.. umm she doesn't want to keep them on!! So I would look down and see this pair of underwear and a little naked butt run by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdBDUv7leI/AAAAAAAAAEk/PfnqOPh-URo/s1600-h/pottytraining+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdBDUv7leI/AAAAAAAAAEk/PfnqOPh-URo/s200/pottytraining+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244231816461391330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So plan B, we tried a pull up. Here is what happened....&lt;br /&gt;Actually I decided I better not show that picture. Needless to say by the end of the day she was very confused. Notice the shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdB84KV-BI/AAAAAAAAAEs/_j__elTPy30/s1600-h/pottytraining+011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdB84KV-BI/AAAAAAAAAEs/_j__elTPy30/s200/pottytraining+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244232805219956754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My poor baby is so confused and so is her momma!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-3558774616249231496?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/3558774616249231496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=3558774616249231496' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3558774616249231496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3558774616249231496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/potty-training-boot-camp-day-1.html' title='Potty Training Boot Camp Day 1'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMdBDUv7leI/AAAAAAAAAEk/PfnqOPh-URo/s72-c/pottytraining+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-9106680750861936109</id><published>2008-09-08T23:49:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T00:16:06.171-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lions, Tigers, and Bears Oh My</title><content type='html'>This weekend we packed up the family truckster and headed down to the zoo. We bought a membership this year so we thought with the nice weather it would be a great trip. Emma grabbed her shades and her new Dora shoes (which she slept in) and we hit the road. Here is a pre zoo picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYBYOuJ0EI/AAAAAAAAAD8/xrrVnB33NEo/s1600-h/zoo+2+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYBYOuJ0EI/AAAAAAAAAD8/xrrVnB33NEo/s200/zoo+2+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243880331899686978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather was perfect and the animals were actually pretty active. We stopped by to see the two new female gorillas and the male gorilla. I couldn't believe it by the gorilla came very close to us and started making this scare the poop out of you sound. I wasn't sure what he was going to do. He was yelling and rocking back and forth on this rock. Later a zoo employee walked up to me and said"that was a great sound." I kinda looked at her and said uh huh, thinking if I could have translated it might have been something like this: you human ,look plump and tasty. like to use you as a ball and toss you round the yard. The zoo employee said the noise the male gorilla made means he is content. Well with this new information about him being content I decided maybe he doesn't want to eat me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYENdPAo7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/6_VXSt963Tw/s1600-h/zoo+2+015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYENdPAo7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/6_VXSt963Tw/s200/zoo+2+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243883445351916466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, the day was great! We ended the day with a carousal ride and an ice cream bar. I can't think of anything better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYGAFVoWoI/AAAAAAAAAEM/tQr8SMm3HbQ/s1600-h/zoo+2+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYGAFVoWoI/AAAAAAAAAEM/tQr8SMm3HbQ/s200/zoo+2+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243885414622190210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYGAdwXhrI/AAAAAAAAAEU/qScQhgBVcWA/s1600-h/zoo+2+017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYGAdwXhrI/AAAAAAAAAEU/qScQhgBVcWA/s200/zoo+2+017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243885421176784562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYGAuqEW0I/AAAAAAAAAEc/pVPQeQ9wi-Y/s1600-h/zoo+2+020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYGAuqEW0I/AAAAAAAAAEc/pVPQeQ9wi-Y/s200/zoo+2+020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243885425713765186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-9106680750861936109?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/9106680750861936109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=9106680750861936109' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/9106680750861936109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/9106680750861936109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/lions-tigers-and-bears-oh-my.html' title='Lions, Tigers, and Bears Oh My'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMYBYOuJ0EI/AAAAAAAAAD8/xrrVnB33NEo/s72-c/zoo+2+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-3639648394885980723</id><published>2008-09-05T23:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T23:53:10.349-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Burrito Baby</title><content type='html'>Emma and I have this little morning routine. I get up and get showered and dressed, then I get her stuff ready for preschool. I then go in and wake her up, sometimes she is on the floor and sometimes she is in her bed. She comes into the kitchen and gets her cup of milk and goes and sits in the recliner. She always says "ooo cold mommy". So I get her a blanket and turn on some cartoons(so Britney Spears I know). I cook something for breakfast and then we snuggle under the covers. It is such a sweet and treasured time. I love sitting there listening to her talk. I pick up every 5 word but it is ok, I am learning to speak Klingon. I love this picture of my sweet burrito baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMIMG5_L00I/AAAAAAAAADs/gFTw6XcizzA/s1600-h/burrito+baby+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMIMG5_L00I/AAAAAAAAADs/gFTw6XcizzA/s200/burrito+baby+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242766228997264194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMIMHdmBEZI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Q3YYDg8sOtM/s1600-h/burrito+baby+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMIMHdmBEZI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Q3YYDg8sOtM/s200/burrito+baby+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242766238555378066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good thing bout having a burrito baby no carbs or calories!!! My two friends with gestational diabetes rejoice and get a burrito baby today!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-3639648394885980723?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/3639648394885980723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=3639648394885980723' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3639648394885980723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3639648394885980723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/burrito-baby.html' title='Burrito Baby'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SMIMG5_L00I/AAAAAAAAADs/gFTw6XcizzA/s72-c/burrito+baby+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-1228874197714837368</id><published>2008-09-05T23:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T23:40:21.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'>To Leash or Not to Leash, that is the Question?</title><content type='html'>So I was sitting here actually laying here not sleeping again, so I decided to put my mind to use and try and plan out my weekend. My husband has taken on the task of painting the outside of our house all by himself, so pretty much for the next few weekends Emma and I will be on our own. I have a few returns at stores and just some other errands to run and as I was planning this out in my mind it lead me to the title of today's entry. Emma has decided (notice I said she decided) that she is too big for the stroller and too cool for a shopping cart, so that leaves maniac child running through store! So several months ago my mom bought Emma an Eddie Bauer (get no money for endorsement) monkey leash.Before I had a child I thought these things are so cruel. I mean who walks there kids? On the leash do you buy a tag that says will fetch toys? If lost call home? But honestly now that I have a child I can see why people use them. For one thing it gives the child a chance to walk about safely, and you don't have to worry about them running off and getting lost. Still, I can't bring myself to strap on the cute little monkey pack. Knowing Emma as I do I think it would be a situation of not walking but dragging her and the monkey leash. What do you do when they go boneless with their little leashes on? Case in point I think the real reason I don't use it is I don't want people to stare and think that I can't control my child. So I guess I will have to do some field tests and get back to ya on this one. Maybe I will even have some pics!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-1228874197714837368?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/1228874197714837368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=1228874197714837368' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1228874197714837368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1228874197714837368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/to-leash-or-not-to-leash-that-is.html' title='To Leash or Not to Leash, that is the Question?'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-2850073509654002035</id><published>2008-09-04T00:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T00:13:18.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things you learn at midnight.......</title><content type='html'>Top 5 things you learn at midnight.....&lt;br /&gt;brought to you by WideAwake inc.&lt;br /&gt;5. Your daughter is on the floor again!&lt;br /&gt;4. Legs get really stiff when you haven't used them&lt;br /&gt;3. The child proof door knobs you bought glow in the dark. Good to know.&lt;br /&gt;2. The Golden Girls is on at midnight! yeah&lt;br /&gt;and the number 1 thing you learn at midnight.........................&lt;br /&gt;YOU NEED A PRESCRIPTION FOR AMBIEN!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-2850073509654002035?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/2850073509654002035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=2850073509654002035' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2850073509654002035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2850073509654002035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/things-you-learn-at-midnight.html' title='Things you learn at midnight.......'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6582493160671782956</id><published>2008-09-03T22:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T22:59:29.771-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Picasso or Van Gogh? Don't know</title><content type='html'>Tonight little Emma shocked her dad and I!  She counted to ten! Yes I said it to 10!  Well she did leave out a few numbers. It went alittle something like this... 123...678...10 Yeah!I know, I know, this is what jealous mommies call shameless bragging.  Well if your mom doesn't do it then who?  Put the super cool thing came later that day.  She was drawing on her magna doodle, and she would draw something and say "bird" and point to it.  SHe then drew a flower, a tree, and a peace sign. no kidding. She pointed to each one of the drawings and named them.  I love those little moments. I want to tuck them away in my heart and mind and remember them always.  Her are some of her drawings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL9bdXmlq5I/AAAAAAAAADU/AEbKSaI_aAE/s1600-h/burrito+baby+008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL9bdXmlq5I/AAAAAAAAADU/AEbKSaI_aAE/s200/burrito+baby+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242009051392748434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly here you can see a peace sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL9b8AL6LjI/AAAAAAAAADc/QSZH1vWZRcY/s1600-h/burrito+baby+006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL9b8AL6LjI/AAAAAAAAADc/QSZH1vWZRcY/s200/burrito+baby+006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242009577682775602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh, the lovely but never seen Ivory billed woodpecker and a tall pine tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL9cllUJF3I/AAAAAAAAADk/M8Br2cbs1-g/s1600-h/burrito+baby+010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL9cllUJF3I/AAAAAAAAADk/M8Br2cbs1-g/s200/burrito+baby+010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242010292024055666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my favorite Emma pointing to the turkey and pumpkin she drew.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6582493160671782956?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6582493160671782956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6582493160671782956' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6582493160671782956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6582493160671782956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/picasso-or-van-gogh-dont-know.html' title='Picasso or Van Gogh? Don&apos;t know'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL9bdXmlq5I/AAAAAAAAADU/AEbKSaI_aAE/s72-c/burrito+baby+008.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-1364742895513933514</id><published>2008-09-03T21:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T21:57:03.539-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A pondering if you will</title><content type='html'>So I was having one of those deep thoughts kinda days. It was a rainy day today so Emma and I decided to stay in and she played and I worked on some jewelry. I have recently taken up working with metals. Sounds glamorous right? Anyway, I just feel calm when I am working with my hands. It was during this calm that I had a revelation. Before I reveal this revelation, I have to back track a bit. A great bonus in making your own jewelry is you get to wear some of it, well be honest all of it. So I had a perfectly good necklace that I always wear, but I decided I wanted a longer chain to show of some of my new charms. So I ordered a chain online and when it arrived I put it on immediately. I have worn it now for a few weeks, but today I started thinking is this chain too long? It kinda gets in the way and Emma likes to just about hang from it. So I thought maybe I should just wear my old chain. Wait for it... the revelation was this.... why is it that we or I just can't want what we already have. There was nothing wrong with the first chain, but I had to have another one, and when I got it, I didn't want it. &lt;br /&gt;Some of you might be thinking I need to consult the Physician's Desk Reference for some shopping disorder, but I think it is much deeper than that. I think God created us to always be wanting and to never be satisfied. But NOT WITH THE STUFF OF THIS WORLD! God is waiting for us to realize that he is the only true thing that can fill and sustain us. Not jewelry, and other stuff we can't take with us. It is so overwhelming to think of a God who created this wanting and the same God gives us free choice. I believe he is sitting there looking down waiting for us to chose him!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-1364742895513933514?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/1364742895513933514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=1364742895513933514' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1364742895513933514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1364742895513933514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/pondering-if-you-will.html' title='A pondering if you will'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-7919239145564298644</id><published>2008-09-02T22:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T22:49:29.814-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Star is Born</title><content type='html'>Emma at the tender age of 2 has taken up photography.  Now I am no Anne Lebowitz but I think these photos might just be something special.  They sort of have an Andy Warhol feel to me.  I especially think she captured the essence of her nose in this photo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4ISK9R0DI/AAAAAAAAACM/ik-SoPUrZ6I/s1600-h/BEDTIME+011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4ISK9R0DI/AAAAAAAAACM/ik-SoPUrZ6I/s200/BEDTIME+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241636124577878066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also like the flash effects in the following photos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4I955RGwI/AAAAAAAAACU/4Gjqef7bFNs/s1600-h/BEDTIME+013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4I955RGwI/AAAAAAAAACU/4Gjqef7bFNs/s200/BEDTIME+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241636875911895810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4I-P1ty7I/AAAAAAAAACc/SUfyoqZPTj8/s1600-h/BEDTIME+015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4I-P1ty7I/AAAAAAAAACc/SUfyoqZPTj8/s200/BEDTIME+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241636881802578866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4I-ZGkBjI/AAAAAAAAACk/653UDgDjRPw/s1600-h/BEDTIME+013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4I-ZGkBjI/AAAAAAAAACk/653UDgDjRPw/s200/BEDTIME+013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241636884289160754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-7919239145564298644?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/7919239145564298644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=7919239145564298644' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7919239145564298644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/7919239145564298644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/star-is-born.html' title='A Star is Born'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4ISK9R0DI/AAAAAAAAACM/ik-SoPUrZ6I/s72-c/BEDTIME+011.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-2365334378436230369</id><published>2008-09-02T22:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T22:42:07.358-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's Waldo?</title><content type='html'>My favorite time of the day is in the morning when I wake up and walk to Emma's room to find where she spent the night. You see she is in a big girl bed now, so this gives her the freedom she never had in the crib.  It is my favorite part of the day because you never know where you are going to find her, kinda like Waldo.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4GZEs5fxI/AAAAAAAAAB8/rKy99yadAW0/s1600-h/school+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4GZEs5fxI/AAAAAAAAAB8/rKy99yadAW0/s200/school+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241634044134391570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4GZdignBI/AAAAAAAAACE/IlmlHkMvbUM/s1600-h/school+005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4GZdignBI/AAAAAAAAACE/IlmlHkMvbUM/s200/school+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241634050801703954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks like she has been to a fraternity party in this one picture.  At least she drinks at home and it does my heart good to know that her friend Dora is always at her side.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-2365334378436230369?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/2365334378436230369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=2365334378436230369' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2365334378436230369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2365334378436230369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/09/wheres-waldo.html' title='Where&apos;s Waldo?'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SL4GZEs5fxI/AAAAAAAAAB8/rKy99yadAW0/s72-c/school+004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-3991712495766393905</id><published>2008-08-25T22:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T22:23:30.314-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Poor Husband</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLN11qMMUhI/AAAAAAAAAB0/VmSeV8y8FPg/s1600-h/001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLN11qMMUhI/AAAAAAAAAB0/VmSeV8y8FPg/s200/001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238660356280963602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is truly a classic cannot make this stuff up story.  My husband rarely goes out for lunch.  He is a budget minded kinda guy married to a whats a budget kinda girl.  So basically he eats peanut butter and jelly everyday to help save money.  But today he learned he got a bonus and a bit of a raise so he decided to treat himself to a fine lunch at Back Yard Burger.  On these rare occasions when he does treat himself, he picks up a Memphis flyer and enjoys a nice juicy hamburger.  So he walks in , places his order and picks up a flyer.  Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone waving to him.  It is the President and Owner of the company he works for.  He too was dining on a fine meal, and with him was his wife.  So Tom sets his drink down at a table and walks over to say Shalom.  They invite him to join them, so Tom sets the flyer down and goes to get his drink. At this point in the story I think it is important to mention that his boss is a very Godly man, he has published some books on marriage, and is very active in missions work.  So when Tom returns to the table this is what he sees.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-3991712495766393905?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/3991712495766393905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=3991712495766393905' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3991712495766393905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3991712495766393905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-poor-husband.html' title='My Poor Husband'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLN11qMMUhI/AAAAAAAAAB0/VmSeV8y8FPg/s72-c/001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6843110447048305929</id><published>2008-08-24T00:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T00:48:29.228-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahh, Summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLD11mGGdZI/AAAAAAAAABU/WR1Bf9fMDyE/s1600-h/emily%27s+pool+015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLD11mGGdZI/AAAAAAAAABU/WR1Bf9fMDyE/s200/emily%27s+pool+015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237956667739895186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLD112C-jRI/AAAAAAAAABc/56Ed79SdlgQ/s1600-h/emily%27s+pool+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLD112C-jRI/AAAAAAAAABc/56Ed79SdlgQ/s200/emily%27s+pool+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237956672021761298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLD12ChsicI/AAAAAAAAABk/RUmQj74j4Wo/s1600-h/gtown+pool+part2+035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLD12ChsicI/AAAAAAAAABk/RUmQj74j4Wo/s200/gtown+pool+part2+035.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237956675371829698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLD12fu9DnI/AAAAAAAAABs/0phcEcP2RGQ/s1600-h/gtown+pool+part2+031.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLD12fu9DnI/AAAAAAAAABs/0phcEcP2RGQ/s200/gtown+pool+part2+031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237956683212066418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well it appears to be that time of year again, kids are back in school, and I will soon be back to work.  This could only mean one thing.... The end of Summer.  The summer was really cool. We spent the summer with great friends and family.  This summer included a trip to the beach, zoo trips, and many trips to the pool.  I almost have a tan to prove it.  I think the coolest part of the summer was just hanging out with friends from the preschool and their kids!  It was cool to watch Emma playing with her friends, many of them older than her. Ahh the memories of the kids ringing the bell at Arbys to signal yet another fine meal, crashing high chairs at the mall food court, and the pure joy of the 500th happy meal toy. What a summer! One should never underestimate the power of friendship and making people feel special. My friends did that for me this summer. Trips to the mall, pool dates, zoo trips, and Emma's infectious giggling are the things I will remember fondly when I think back on this summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6843110447048305929?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6843110447048305929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6843110447048305929' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6843110447048305929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6843110447048305929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/08/ahh-summer.html' title='Ahh, Summer'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SLD11mGGdZI/AAAAAAAAABU/WR1Bf9fMDyE/s72-c/emily%27s+pool+015.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-9021624009823821712</id><published>2008-08-21T20:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T21:02:55.922-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tammy Fay Baker Lives!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SK4eHB33zzI/AAAAAAAAAA8/EBcu9OOCVrA/s1600-h/BEDTIME+024.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SK4eHB33zzI/AAAAAAAAAA8/EBcu9OOCVrA/s200/BEDTIME+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237156522789162802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SK4eHbWhA2I/AAAAAAAAABE/H-YWkVi9wR0/s1600-h/BEDTIME+021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SK4eHbWhA2I/AAAAAAAAABE/H-YWkVi9wR0/s200/BEDTIME+021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237156529628578658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SK4eHkvQGSI/AAAAAAAAABM/7pJOJG44H5k/s1600-h/BEDTIME+023.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SK4eHkvQGSI/AAAAAAAAABM/7pJOJG44H5k/s200/BEDTIME+023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237156532148246818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am amazed daily at the things Emma notices. For example mommies makeup routine. After my shower, I usually sit on the bed and begin the transformation from mom to mommy! For my transformation I like Bare Minerals. But I digress, so today Emma took an interest in some blush and mineral veil. Her application technique was well ok I'll say it -wild.  I didn't have the heart to tell her that she applied her blush a bit heavy, and that the mineral veil isn't usually applied with a shadow brush. But hey,really who am I to criticize. I know Tammy Fay has passed, but a little girl from Cordova sure would have made her proud!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-9021624009823821712?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/9021624009823821712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=9021624009823821712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/9021624009823821712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/9021624009823821712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/08/tammy-fay-baker-lives.html' title='Tammy Fay Baker Lives!'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SK4eHB33zzI/AAAAAAAAAA8/EBcu9OOCVrA/s72-c/BEDTIME+024.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-3738889601029979587</id><published>2008-08-19T22:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T23:19:30.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Million Little Pieces</title><content type='html'>I really must start carrying my camera around with me because I am missing some way funny photo ops with Emma.  Since the Olympics were not on we decided to leave the house.  We met my friend Carla for lunch and decided to go to Hobby Lobby.  I don't think Carla knew what she was getting into.  Emma started out in the shopping cart, did you notice I said "started" in the shopping cart.  As we shopped along, my sense of smell was alerted to a possible code brown in the beads section.  Well of course I don't have her diaper bag so Carla was kind enough to watch her while I began the hike to the car.  Well of course do I have any wipes, no, how about a diaper, no.  But alas, I do find a Dora pull-up. Thanks Dora.  Anyway, I did the best I could with a pull up and wet toilet paper, but I must say the toilet paper was definately not Charmin.  One word-chaffing.  Don't ask, I didn't have butt paste either.  Yeah yeah Mom of the year I already know.  But the best was yet to come.  So after the diaper debacle she was out of the shopping cart, and she ran and found a big bucket of beads.  I shall refer to it as the 1lb Bucket O' Beads (Irish name).  So 1lb of beads translates to hundreds and hundreds of tiny ,little, pretty, colorful, plastic beads.  Proud of her find ,Emma turns to Carla and I to show us and well, she drops the Bucket O 'Beads.  Hundreds of beads go a flying.  Thank goodness no one lost an eye, but I must say even if Carla and I wanted to run we couldn't. Everywhere I stepped my shoe was literally shooting  beads all over the store.  People would just look down the aisle and just walk away.  My shopping cart was rendered useless, because apparently a tiny small bead can bring down a shopping cart, who knew. Even on two wheels that cart wouldn't move.  I was waiting for the voice on the intercom, "Clean up on aisle 10."  A nice Hobby Lobby lady swept up the evidence that Emma had been there, and I decided before we get to the glassware it was time to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-3738889601029979587?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/3738889601029979587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=3738889601029979587' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3738889601029979587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/3738889601029979587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/08/million-little-pieces.html' title='A Million Little Pieces'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-143977245244686009</id><published>2008-08-13T23:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T23:20:03.208-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stay at Home Moms Take Back the Mall</title><content type='html'>It finally happened that glorious day that all stay at home moms have been waiting for..........school is back in session.  These simple words mean only one thing.. the streets of Memphis are now back in the capable hands of the stay at home mommies.  If you read my friend Jennifer's blog this makes much more sense.  It seemed like everywhere my friends and I would go movies were sold out, lines were out the door of the pizza places, and it was impossible to even walk into a Build a Bear.  So when Emma and i went to the mall today it was like the Lone Ranger and Tonto heading into a ghost town.. No lines, no waiting, ahh this is the good life.  Emma and I didn't even have to wait in line to have our photo made in the $3 silly photo booth.  Those pictures never really turn out that great, but it is just one of the things that great summers are made of-memories. So moms everywhere rejoice, the mall is ours again, at least until Christmas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-143977245244686009?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/143977245244686009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=143977245244686009' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/143977245244686009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/143977245244686009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/08/stay-at-home-moms-take-back-mall.html' title='Stay at Home Moms Take Back the Mall'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-2291200921812032513</id><published>2008-08-08T23:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T23:23:34.995-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to Lipstick</title><content type='html'>Well if you have been reading this blog, you know the story about my great desire for this new Urban Decay lipstick.  In fact, I drove all over town looking for it, got in a car accident, and now the ultimate act, the finale if you will occurred today.  Emma and I were heading out to run some errands and I thought what a perfect time to try out my new fabulous lipstick.  So I grabbed the tubes and headed to the car.  I set the tubes on the back of the car to help Emma get into her seat.  (I think you see where this is going.)  After fastening her into her carseat, I cranked up the rental car and headed out.  Well as  you guessed the lipstick was still on the back of the car as I headed out on my merry way.  Two hours later I noticed, hmmm I can't find my new lipstick.  And immediately I realized what I had done.  I searched the streets in our neighborhood, but no lipstick. I did preserve my dignity and opted not to search the sewer!   I won't bother to tell you how much this lipstick cost, but I guess Em will have to attend a local college.  Looking back on this whole fiasco I think to myself ,was all of this for some lipstick!!!  You can't make this stuff up!  Moral of the story:Invest in chapstick!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-2291200921812032513?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/2291200921812032513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=2291200921812032513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2291200921812032513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/2291200921812032513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/08/ode-to-lipstick.html' title='Ode to Lipstick'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-1987862750035451961</id><published>2008-08-06T22:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T22:47:40.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleeping Beauty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJpve243fDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ccnEC7WiQIU/s1600-h/bedtime+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231616493065042994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJpve243fDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ccnEC7WiQIU/s200/bedtime+002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJpvfJZ-kOI/AAAAAAAAAA0/sO6VLXUCBUQ/s1600-h/bedtime+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231616498035757282" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJpvfJZ-kOI/AAAAAAAAAA0/sO6VLXUCBUQ/s200/bedtime+003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So today I was thinking about all of the great books, magazines, and tv shows, that are suppose to help us be great parents. From SuperNanny, Dr. Dobson, Dr. Spock, and Kermit the Frog, can these people and one puppet really help us raise our children? The answer is I don't know. Being a new mom, I have had the great pleasure of being in many different groups, and read many good books on the subject of parenting. Why might you ask am I talking about this....... well my little Emma is at that age where potty training is starting, 2 year old tantrums have been happening, and when you can scale your crib it is time for a big girl bed, and you just need a place where you can find some good advice.   So we are living out what SuperNanny and James Dobson are talking about. So I have decided that none of them really have the answer, but you can take bits and pieces from each and find something that works for you. A perfect example of this is Emma's new big girl bed. The first night that we tried out the new big girl bed, I tried the Super Nanny approach. When she got out of her bed, I escorted her back and told her I loved her. The second time I said mommy loves you, and the third time I said nothing and returned her to her bed. Well on the 100th time, I returned her to her bed without speaking, and it kinda turned into a game of Marco Polo. I would hide somewhere and wait and just as sure as the sun rises she was out of that bed calling for me. So finally on the 101st time I said forget SuperNanny, popped her bottom and said "don't get out of this bed again!" So there ya have it alittle bit of SuperNanny and Dr. Dobson. Anyway this is the second night she has slept in her "Big girl bed." The pics are so cute.  I am still not sure which method of parenting is best, maybe I will wait and see what Miss Piggy has to say about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-1987862750035451961?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/1987862750035451961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=1987862750035451961' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1987862750035451961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/1987862750035451961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/08/sleeping-beauty.html' title='Sleeping Beauty'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJpve243fDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/ccnEC7WiQIU/s72-c/bedtime+002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-620283071644073196</id><published>2008-08-05T21:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T22:14:30.048-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When silence is a bad thing Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkV9-65VMI/AAAAAAAAAAk/nf_dNm7D2Aw/s1600-h/chest+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231236596773770434" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkV9-65VMI/AAAAAAAAAAk/nf_dNm7D2Aw/s200/chest+002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkV9xXwZvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NQv65y7cuDg/s1600-h/chest+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231236593136723698" style="WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 137px" height="150" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkV9xXwZvI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NQv65y7cuDg/s200/chest+001.JPG" width="260" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To say that my 2 year old Emma is active is an understatement. She loves to go go go! Monday morning was a typical morning. It started with breakfast and some playtime. Well, nature called and I headed off to answer the call. As I sat on my throne, I thought to myself it is a little to quiet out there in the living room. So after washing my hands, I started out on my search for little Emma. Our house isn't that big, so I thought this shouldn't be to difficult. Of course Emma is at that age when you call her or tell her to come here, she runs away or just flat out ignores you. So I had to ask myself "Why am I still standing here calling her name?" Anyway, I headed to her room, and I hear "hurry mommy, hurry mommy." As I walk into her room this is what I saw........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-620283071644073196?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/620283071644073196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=620283071644073196' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/620283071644073196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/620283071644073196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/08/when-silence-is-bad-thing-part-2.html' title='When silence is a bad thing Part 2'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkV9-65VMI/AAAAAAAAAAk/nf_dNm7D2Aw/s72-c/chest+002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7749453765746686614.post-6245159229964180779</id><published>2008-08-05T21:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T21:52:13.907-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It all started with lipstick</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkQIiiDcDI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bAvQIWoBR34/s1600-h/chest+005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231230181062176818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkQIiiDcDI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bAvQIWoBR34/s320/chest+005.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkQIwCeZVI/AAAAAAAAAAU/mznMeAkR-ZE/s1600-h/chest+006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231230184687822162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkQIwCeZVI/AAAAAAAAAAU/mznMeAkR-ZE/s320/chest+006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I must say things have really been busy this summer. As everyone prepares to head back to school, I thought I would head out into the mall jungle and do some back to school shopping myself. Ulta advertised this cool new lipstick by Urban Decay. I was intrigued by this new fall line, so my little toddler Emma and my good friend Mitzie headed out to buy some cool lipstick. We arrived at Ulta store joyful and excited. I could swear I heard Chariots of Fire being played as we raced to the door. We found the Urban Decay section and were ready to be impressed. Impressed would not be the word I would use to describe what we saw. Empty shelves everywhere. At the exact moment we laid eyes on the empty shelves Billy Joel's Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word song started playing. Ha. Anyway we left the store and decide to try one more store. Struck out there also so we decided to head home. I was driving on Germantown Parkway going North. A car turned left in front of me and we slammed into the back of her car. In fact, my little Accord knock the back end of of her Corolla. But here is the crazy part, the driver kept on driving. Yes I said it she left the scene!!!!!!!!!! First I checked on my daughter Emma, then my friend. Everyone seemed ok, we were visible shaken, but blessed to be alive. My friend happened to get the tag number as it dragged along Gtown Pkwy, and we sat and waited for the police. Kids have a funny way of bringing things back into perspective. As we sat waiting for the police, my daughter says "cookie", "cookie" , "cookie and drink please." We totally forgot that we bought cookies from the Cookie Company. Luckily the icing on the cookies was not damaged in the accident or I would have been really mad. I wish I had a picture of the cookies because one cookie was a big blue smiley face, and the other cookie was a white dove. Classic!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7749453765746686614-6245159229964180779?l=cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/feeds/6245159229964180779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7749453765746686614&amp;postID=6245159229964180779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6245159229964180779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7749453765746686614/posts/default/6245159229964180779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cannotmakethisstuffup.blogspot.com/2008/08/it-all-started-with-lipstick.html' title='It all started with lipstick'/><author><name>jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11602929994062765345</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iMRLlaL9EcI/SJkQIiiDcDI/AAAAAAAAAAM/bAvQIWoBR34/s72-c/chest+005.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
