tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81658709680131406242024-02-19T05:53:41.733-05:00Modern Super MommaSharp tongue. Quick wit. Screw loose.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger187125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-14113663160152343122011-10-04T13:58:00.000-04:002011-10-04T13:58:52.450-04:00Dropping leavesAutumn is my favorite season.<br />
<br />
The smells, the sounds, the hoodies, the boots, the scarves.<br />
<br />
The special days: My daughter joined us on the 8th, and my husband and I held hands in a sunny, wind-swept prairie on the 14th. Halloween and all it's glory.<br />
Apples. Pumpkins.<br />
<br />
(Science alert) The leaves drop from deciduous trees to conserve energy - but also to rid themselves of leaves damaged from parasites, wind, rain. Outside forces keeping the leaves from doing their food-production to their utmost ability.<br />
<br />
They shed the damage. Pool their resources. Reveal buds for regrowth.<br />
<br />
This has been a rough year. Very rough.<br />
<br />
Rough enough that I couldn't bear to sit and write about it - day in and day out. Nor could I expect you to sit and read it.<br />
<br />
The trees around our home are beginning to show their fall color. Severing the life blood from the damaged appendages. I, too, am doing the same.<br />
<br />
I have been recovering from an emotional "woe is me" time. I'm glad to say that I'm shining on the other side. My baby is about to turn 2. T-W-O!! I just opened my <a href="http://wistfulstitches.etsy.com/"><u>online store</u></a> to sell blankets similar to the ones my great grandmother made - and I still use to this day. I'm recovering from foot surgery, but I'm going to do my absolute best to pull myself back together physically. <br />
<br />
Life is good folks.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-24052209450928528842011-09-02T09:00:00.001-04:002011-09-02T09:04:07.647-04:00Where have I been?Hi all.<br />
<br />
It's been a long time since I've posted. Why? Well, I've been reworking some priorities.<br />
<br />
Yes, I love writing and I miss spewing my every thought for all of the internet to read (and search on Google endlessly). I found myself overwhelmed with feeling like I <b><u>HAD</u></b> to write to keep my readership up. But for what? I stripped my site of ads...and they weren't making me any money either. It was a high-pressure situation for little return.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHafXKLoj78FvIuWpbj9kDgoJZEp1EkxUQHmGAfI4szfg6rzmuIQD-p8ImaJtjfOfjfSz-mCTv206riNaYZsuWk3xS_4lyU9S_vykgDZ2FG72HSBgPb663crDPnzkxUYL17u4aMY_8Tr0/s1600/completed+birds.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHafXKLoj78FvIuWpbj9kDgoJZEp1EkxUQHmGAfI4szfg6rzmuIQD-p8ImaJtjfOfjfSz-mCTv206riNaYZsuWk3xS_4lyU9S_vykgDZ2FG72HSBgPb663crDPnzkxUYL17u4aMY_8Tr0/s200/completed+birds.JPG" width="150" /></a>In recent months, I've redirected my energy. I've re-realized a hobby that I'd hung up since I got pregnant in 2009. I am now working on opening an Etsy shop to sell my homemade blankets. The Grand Opening will be October 1, 2011 and I hope you'll all check it out.<br />
<br />
If you want updates prior to the opening, follow me on Twitter <a href="http://www.twitter.com/wistfulstitches">@WistfulStitches</a> or like my page on <a href="http://facebook.com/wistfulstitches">Facebook</a>.<br />
<br />
I'm not gone...I'm just somewhere else - usually wearing a thimble or arguing with the bobbin from my sewing machine.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-7193301270866411922011-04-07T08:39:00.001-04:002011-04-07T08:40:20.745-04:00What to Expect Giveaway!I'm a factual person. I gather facts from multiple sources and make my own decisions. I'm a researcher - it's what I was trained and am paid to do in real life.<br />
<br />
Back when we decided to try to get pregnant - the only things I knew about pregnancy were what I learned on that one awkward elementary school field trip where only one boy was comfortable enough to say the words "vagina" and "penis" in front of the class.<br />
<br />
The rest of us just squirmed and avoided eye contact.<br />
<br />
SO...I needed info. A lot of info.<br />
<br />
I turned to various sources, but my favorite go-to book for conception (and associated frustration), pregnancy month-by-month what to expect, birthing process, and bringing the little thing home...was What to Expect When You're Expecting.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOBy6ulMCwU4yFwwPpotA-G_KyxECtLHN2qZ896uri2EUSgj36FiiEh1PGjC15Wil6UeDutWJTaUDYprB-SlLSmMGFxnzOwO6_fey2e1TTn3eqG6HzdgTtNt7oalNCLtn6LZT8yNZL5Y/s1600/what+to+expect+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOBy6ulMCwU4yFwwPpotA-G_KyxECtLHN2qZ896uri2EUSgj36FiiEh1PGjC15Wil6UeDutWJTaUDYprB-SlLSmMGFxnzOwO6_fey2e1TTn3eqG6HzdgTtNt7oalNCLtn6LZT8yNZL5Y/s1600/what+to+expect+cover.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Admittedly, the one that I dog-eared, read and re-read was a much more dated version.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://whattoexpect.com/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKk-_E8uN1pJ-CB6nXRabKGGxt1T8Phv3_bsvlka8g2BgOkjnOa5pLtwDfunwIB5XwVZr6FgSq5ZARyUzAEaFcQtTg0sbqXWGSSZExnmaVnKUPYCdanYMa9s9eAuzxsngGCeAoElhC8E/s1600/whattoexpect.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I am pleased to announce that I have partnered with <a href="http://whattoexpect.com/">WhatToExpect.com</a> (<i>I KNOW, I didn't know they had a website either!</i>) for a giveaway of shiny new What to Expect when You're Expecting books!<br />
<br />
<br />
Ladies and Gents, I have SIX books to giveaway - sitting here ready to go.<br />
<br />
Are you interested? Do you know someone who is pregnant? <strike>A table that is terribly off balance?</strike><br />
<br />
I have SIX books to give away folks!<br />
<br />
SIX!<br />
<br />
I'm not doing any crazy earn-an-entry stuff here. Please comment below and share the link to this page with your friends!! I will pick winners on Saturday, so hop to it and spread the word!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-7700472910277072332011-04-05T08:59:00.000-04:002011-04-05T08:59:52.607-04:00Duck, Duck, Vulture!<!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4idsuxsXCPVhbL04A-uPf6yK9KUbAW8_UZ6KsjaMFsMqAE5aymSTCTUpqFhADkAxlvs4eqjxdBVHqud_bGF2hsbNlUF_CkZ8qBJEnoXO_qtCz7ffQ2xL__oBWcQw_Z8eOfzw4L32H7fg/s1600/vulture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4idsuxsXCPVhbL04A-uPf6yK9KUbAW8_UZ6KsjaMFsMqAE5aymSTCTUpqFhADkAxlvs4eqjxdBVHqud_bGF2hsbNlUF_CkZ8qBJEnoXO_qtCz7ffQ2xL__oBWcQw_Z8eOfzw4L32H7fg/s320/vulture.jpg" width="320" /></a>I was driving down the quiet country highway toward town to pick my daughter up from daycare.<br />
<br />
I may or may not have been dancing and singing.<br />
<br />
I was several car lengths behind the vehicle in front of me when out of the blue a large bird soared over that vehicle down to the pavement, and the up over my vehicle.<br />
<br />
I did that standard wince/cringe/duck/jerk/lurch that anyone would do when a bird with a six foot wing span comes within inches of your face at 55 mph. I saw individual toes, people!<br />
<br />
He soared over my vehicle’s windstream in that “oh, yeah, I totally meant to do that” sorta way.<br />
<br />
Turkey vultures are like that. They’re the crazy, daredevil cousins in the bird family. They play on thermal airwaves drifting up from the earth’s warm crust in the summer. Spiraling upward and diving down on a whim. They eat the dead – no real rush in that, man.<br />
<br />
This isn’t my first encounter of the vulturian kind.<br />
<br />
Nine years ago, I was driving my old beater pickup truck down another quiet country highway (you see a pattern here? Country=Wildlife, Highway=Cars, Country Highway = Vulture Supper) when I noticed three vultures munching on a deer that had been hit the day before. They all noticed my truck approaching at once. One flew up and to the right over the field. One flew up and parallel to the road. The third flew up and to the left into the grill of my truck.<br />
<br />
A huge puff of black feathers was all I could see in the rearview mirror. The bastard left a dent in the front of my truck and I couldn’t get the hood to open easily ever again.<br />
<br />
I had always admired the grace with which turkey vultures soared, and assumed that the grace was just a trait of all individuals of that species. I know understood that it would be like saying that all humans must be fantastic runners because one observes the New York marathon.<br />
<br />
The next afternoon, I passed the same location.<br />
<br />
Two vultures were eating…the third.<br />
<br />
Natural selection, baby.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-90982074171393440862011-03-31T12:42:00.000-04:002011-03-31T12:42:44.379-04:00My internet herdI can feel completely alone in my house. Not <i>alone</i> alone (so turn around you stalker creepy perverts) but alone in the sense of girl time alone. I live in the middle of nowhere with neighbors who all have children closer to my age than they are. The lack of social interaction can be crippling for me.<br />
<br />
But these days, the world is a teeny tiny place. If I'm feeling angsty, I can whisper a tweet to friends in Florida, Ohio, New York, or even England (for goodness sake) and I feel much less alone. I've never met one of them face-to-face but someday we dream of getting together like long-lost pen pals.<br />
<br />
I can't imagine being as alone I am in the world without this kind of interaction. How did my mom do it? My grandmothers? I'm sure that time was spent on the phone, but it's different on social media. It's not necessarily real-time. It's more voluntary.<br />
<br />
I can chose to read a message or reply when I'm ready. And vice versa. If I call, it interrupts. And it's continuous. I can run around the house in between tweets and get other stuff done. Or not.<br />
<br />
I spend enough time with these people that I feel safe with them even though it is quite possible we'd pass one another at the mall without a second glance. I know I can spout something to them and get an honest, sharp, and likely witty response.<br />
<br />
It's special to me to have a support network of people that I trust to tell me that it'll be ok or to stop whining if the situation begs.<br />
<br />
Social media gets a bad rap. The gossip, the back-handedness, the deceit. The idea that people on twitter announce everything that they're doing at a given second<i> "I just brushed my teeth."</i><br />
<br />
This IS the case sometimes, but social media has connected people who would be fantastic friends if they weren't separated by geography and circumstance. Inclusion in a group is an important thing.<br />
<i> </i><br />
<b><i>From Ice Age...</i></b><br />
<b><span id="search">Manny: 'That's what you do in a herd, you look out for each other.' </span></b><br />
<b><span id="search">Sid: 'I don't know about you guys but we are the weirdest<em></em> herd I have ever seen.'</span></b><div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-65328558549507188572011-03-30T09:37:00.001-04:002011-03-31T11:38:39.677-04:00Elastic lets you growPregnancy was fun. I enjoyed it (well the second and third trimesters). I know some people who have been miserable the entire time. I wasn't. I loved having a life moving around inside me. I glowed. My hair was shiny (but fell out during pregnancy rather than after).<br />
<br />
My favorite thing about pregnancy? Maternity clothes! Oh the stretchy loveliness of the preggo pants pouch! Ahh! Emergency runs to the bathroom - not a problem when you don't need to worry about belts or buttons or zippers! YAY!<br />
<br />
Gone are the days of tent clothes designed to "hide" pregnancy like my mom had to deal with.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXKkf0zp4xC7k1bseJHW_bsweoL9EMIQb0iHeafqaG-zRbfJr1noqQoZLV_dVh14Bgwf5pAc310NYpN3VTZxoBxUAuBjXGm-ZgIa4TFcwQzGKFMhJsElrk7tYXwFWNLiDRiZl1B39fp1M/s1600/1Mom+%2526+C+Clown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXKkf0zp4xC7k1bseJHW_bsweoL9EMIQb0iHeafqaG-zRbfJr1noqQoZLV_dVh14Bgwf5pAc310NYpN3VTZxoBxUAuBjXGm-ZgIa4TFcwQzGKFMhJsElrk7tYXwFWNLiDRiZl1B39fp1M/s320/1Mom+%2526+C+Clown.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My momma and I on Halloween a couple months before my brother was born.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Today's maternity clothes are cute and comfy and help make a woman in the most beautiful phase of life...well, feel beautiful.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0p5lmrMrXDTQGTi2vVEZbv6ywhOX8ONKdA0NaCOC1kZQejDtg7GUVm7HnTFmg3dz6KVh05eqC_g4thKw10Jt4t1Rrwi5b9r_DY1-znOwIlaYClP0dK-kt0Mwp4bjcRwypefg2pEba_s/s1600/DSC_0016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0p5lmrMrXDTQGTi2vVEZbv6ywhOX8ONKdA0NaCOC1kZQejDtg7GUVm7HnTFmg3dz6KVh05eqC_g4thKw10Jt4t1Rrwi5b9r_DY1-znOwIlaYClP0dK-kt0Mwp4bjcRwypefg2pEba_s/s320/DSC_0016.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture courtesy of my talented cousin, Jenna</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Because of an unfortunate illness pared with breastfeeding and stockpiling milk for an upcoming business trip, I lost weight very rapidly.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pU7c6o63h-PBAbq__EBO_5ICPZrOUEITGh1-ui2dajracF8E12t1B7_Aw0WY_MYJkCEKHUN1oL5F9so_9QH6lovzVofxmNtRvw-EC8bgbsqPmt4IIX74OSxmod5Cj1UP7NzzxiH6x18/s1600/misc+299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pU7c6o63h-PBAbq__EBO_5ICPZrOUEITGh1-ui2dajracF8E12t1B7_Aw0WY_MYJkCEKHUN1oL5F9so_9QH6lovzVofxmNtRvw-EC8bgbsqPmt4IIX74OSxmod5Cj1UP7NzzxiH6x18/s320/misc+299.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was quite sick in this picture. My daughter was 1 month old and apparently afraid of her momma's giant man hand on her belly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>When my daughter was about 6 weeks old, I was completely out of my maternity pants. Some shirts I hung onto for a while, they snapped back better than I did! I maintained my lower weight while I breast fed, mainly because I had to cut so many things out of my diet to keep the kid from going nuts. When she was about 8 months old, I stopped breast feeding, and reintroduced the evils of the food world back into my diet (i.e. chocolate).<br />
<br />
I ballooned. My pants no longer fit. I had passed on my maternity pants to other soon-to-be-mothers (and kicked myself for it). One by one, I filled my dresser with pants and shorts with elastic bands. I wore them all summer. This gave me carte blanche to eat how I wanted however much I wanted. I never felt huge because my pants were never tight.<br />
<br />
I took zillions of pictures of the kids, but hardly included myself. Then on my daughter's first birthday, everyone hauled out their cameras.<br />
<br />
And I saw this person holding the birthday girl.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfFKWQeBJKVZvamroiAxrkG5PcK6KF4XiMykuMlqH3twUgH1WMp0Vs-dyZEVVq8r0M_OcPpwV5TFThYbkuV6l9M9CfNGqmeWL0iNTwon8gJaroBAhNFF6dAEktlOKpnZuyjN0IPchVgQ/s1600/CortB4-side.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkynk7vYThqPXSf4gyyfOdIZJFcHmjHvklkk7ve17i721RBlzPR8Uv-5JMoqO7OAfdcoztg0Q95lmVpk4ciw9r_splVUihNPV0bkeIb-M6IC0TB8WZNsvEBJworyVMX7r1orfEv4RIXU/s1600/R1-02926-004A+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkynk7vYThqPXSf4gyyfOdIZJFcHmjHvklkk7ve17i721RBlzPR8Uv-5JMoqO7OAfdcoztg0Q95lmVpk4ciw9r_splVUihNPV0bkeIb-M6IC0TB8WZNsvEBJworyVMX7r1orfEv4RIXU/s320/R1-02926-004A+-+Copy.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On my daughter's first birthday. At the peak of my frustration.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I hit a wall. I decided to make a change. I chose to buy jeans that fit - and to make some major changes. It wasn't easy. But it worked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZtPCql9ADpWFkTxtqD28bj7CpPzULk4JFDFrJ0eB20qIUa6bqLV0xtJIS-NFBPTpgPQQQc-9jZDvKByeGWlgP9h7KXCf77YLnBGSF4FDS-GFFqWlcJLbZXNr_ORuPO6H5bWli5AnySI/s1600/mommalily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZtPCql9ADpWFkTxtqD28bj7CpPzULk4JFDFrJ0eB20qIUa6bqLV0xtJIS-NFBPTpgPQQQc-9jZDvKByeGWlgP9h7KXCf77YLnBGSF4FDS-GFFqWlcJLbZXNr_ORuPO6H5bWli5AnySI/s320/mommalily.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I am (daughter is about 15 months old) in jeans and much more comfortable in my body (picture courtesy of my friend Katie)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That was 2 months ago.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My victory jeans that I purchased when I hit my goal weight are snug now. I fell off the wagon. I let work, and other craziness, take priority over my health. I went for easy (comfort) foods that weren't my best options. I'm still learning. I'm still growing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>But I'm not loosening my belt and letting myself become comfortable in my pants today in lieu of being comfortable in my body tomorrow.</i></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-49286124123682543002011-03-25T13:06:00.001-04:002011-03-25T13:10:21.308-04:00How do you pack?I've always been a heavy packer.<br />
<br />
<i>What if it rains? What if it's too cold? What if I spill something and I need to change my shirt four times?</i><br />
<br />
And that's for a day hike - without the kid!<br />
<br />
I'm learning, slowly but surely, through experience and a bum back that preparation (checking the forecast, for example) takes out some of those variables and lightens the load. Yes, there are still variables and some things still might-maybe-what if happen. But I'm learning to roll with it.<br />
<br />
A light load makes for a more enjoyable journey. I travel for work and I've found that packing light gets me in and out of the dreaded airport that much faster.<br />
<br />
(See my post <b><a href="http://andnobodytoldme.com/2011/03/that-it-would-be-so-hard-to-fly-alone/">here</a></b> to see how that plays with me in other ways.)<br />
<br />
Packing for the worst-case scenario isn't always reasonable or optimal.<br />
<br />
<i>Yes, I'm sure it COULD snow in June...but do I pack a parka, mittens and hat??</i><br />
<br />
I came to the realization that life is the same way. Why pack a heavier load - in weight, in toxic friendships, in responsibilities, in stress, in general?<br />
<br />
Prepare yourself - physically, mentally, and emotionally through healthy eating, exercise, meditation and planning and let the rest slough off.<br />
<br />
Living life worrying about the worse case scenario keeps you from enjoying a good or even great scenario.<br />
<br />
Pack light and enjoy!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-54442830220156109262011-03-12T08:40:00.000-05:002011-03-12T08:40:37.013-05:00For a causeToday, I'm donating my post for a cause.<br />
<br />
(No, this is not a campaign to rescue the NFL from its own greed - even though the next Superbowl is scheduled for Indy)<br />
<br />
I want every reader to go to Elizabeth Flora Ross's page and take the <a href="http://www.efloraross.com/">pledge</a> if you haven't already. It is a pledge to end bullying by moms against moms in the blogosphere.<br />
<br />
We, as moms, need to stick together. Some may choose to wear their baby, nurse endlessly, co-sleep, and quit their jobs while others chose to feed their children formula, use the cry-it-out method, and rely on day care. And of course, the majority of us who have every single one of those descriptors at some point during their child's first year.<br />
<br />
Regardless of your personal choice - you're a mom (or a dad). Your ultimate goal is shared - to raise the healthiest, happiest child you can - while maintaining some semblance of sanity.<br />
<br />
There is no need to denigrate a parent for doing what they think is best because it's not the decision we chose. <br />
<br />
We all need to consider the bigger picture of open-faced, one-sided judgment. It is bullying. We don't want our children to do it - so we must lead by example!!<br />
<br />
So go! Pledge! Also, go to Facebook and join the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#%21/TheMomPledge?sk=info">pledge</a> there!<br />
<br />
Share the love ~ and have a happy weekend!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-22267025479889922752011-03-06T13:23:00.000-05:002011-03-06T13:23:40.109-05:00I've given myself homeworkI know. I know. I bring it all on myself. <br />
<br />
<i>If you don't want to do extra work, why in the hell would you start a new blog. And one that isn't a random rambling blog, but one that actually requires research and references and extra time?</i><br />
<br />
Because I feel it is a niche that I can fill that isn't being addressed by others.<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> So what's the niche? </i><br />
<br />
My new blog is about accessible nature. Parents like to kick their kids out into the outdoors to play, to learn, to explore because they were kicked out of their house by their parents. Remember how FREAKING boring that got? Think about this generation with instant gratification and extreme levels of stimulus - how BORING must that calm nature seem? My argument is not to keep kids inside - or to send them out with their hand held games. It's to show them that there IS SO MUCH outside that you can't see it all at once. Bugs and birds and flowers and trees and mammals and reptiles and water and soil and how all of these all interact and depend on one another. <br />
<br />
<i>Why you? </i><br />
<br />
Because I spent 6 years going to college to learn to recognize, identify, and categorize the above creatures and their interactions. I earned two degrees that indicate that I know what I'm talking about. I worked two years running an intense research project studying ALL OF THESE THINGS. And because I am currently not using this information in any other way, and this, as with many skills, will be lost if I don't use it.<i> </i><br />
<br />
<i>Are you just being a martyr for a cause that doesn't really need you?</i><br />
<br />
No. I don't believe so. I think it important for people, especially teachers and parents, to have an extra ounce of information. Especially when dealing with children who are used to the at-your-fingertips information - it is essential for people to know what they might encounter when they step out the door, what equipment would be helpful to have along, or what to take a picture of to reference when the get back to a computer (or cell reception).<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>Are you abandoning this blog?</i><br />
<br />
NO! My new site is family friendly, and I will still need a place to vent my crazy.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>So where is this new site?</i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://adventuresingnomevalley.wordpress.com/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjabZrV7Sk45DL1OyacnjDXbP8G8xYbxI4iqFy5t1xhMX2clpy_Md9QqzsgihQizwPAboobiRYiCzOFOUxZlRoZlEryNd-6RozF64JojF5LQGs6k1gPsMcW5w8aBbQo2orWh0OhYQuHVhg/s320/Avatar+w+name.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://AdventuresInGnomeValley.wordpress.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table><b>So go.</b> Check it out, please. Share with your friends. I really think this is an admirable effort to bring the wonder of North American vegetation and wildlife to the forefront of the minds of our youth - via their parents.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-15493270276559888692011-03-03T09:08:00.000-05:002011-03-03T09:08:59.349-05:00A night like thatYou know those nights after a long, crazy day...<br />
<br />
One of those nights where you know you need to just go to bed, but you get caught up in conversation - refreshing, real conversation that doesn't involve locating a remote or discussing the texture of the baby's poo...<br />
<br />
And you finally crash at midnight (as opposed to the planned 10:30) unwound from the day, happily snuggled into bed - and life in general...<br />
<br />
Then at 2AM the baby wakes up and decides to BE awake and in various states of happiness, frustration, and cuddleness...for 3 hours...<br />
<br />
Then you finally lay sandwiched between your <i>sleeping</i> husband and your <i>sleeping</i> baby (she was against the wall instead of between us - fyi) when you hear the noise...<br />
<br />
The noise that sounds like it might be a tornado siren in the town out of your valley and 15 miles away...<br />
<br />
And you lift your head to listen to see if you hear anything that remotely sounds like something you'd describe as freight train plowing straight for your house...<br />
<br />
And you scare the ever living bejesus out of your husband who happens to wake and see your face hovering above his straining to see danger approaching through closed blinds...<br />
<br />
And he tells you it's just the furnace running and rolls back over...<br />
<br />
And you lay awake for another hour planning evacuation plans - A, B, and C - in case your roof gets blown off...<br />
<br />
And then you fall asleep just in time for the baby to wake up and pluck at your eyelashes...<br />
<br />
Have you ever had one of those nights??<br />
<br />
<i>Yeah, me neither...</i><div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-31406311460355361662011-03-01T12:12:00.001-05:002011-03-01T12:18:32.241-05:00My love, in writingI'm inked.<br />
<br />
Not as much as some, but more than others.<br />
<br />
After an impulsive "baby dragon" tattoo incident paired with a sub-par cover up job - my rule is that I have to want a tat for a year before I can get it.<br />
<br />
Before my daughter was born, I knew I would probably get some sort of tattoo for her. I just didn't know what.<br />
<br />
With her name being Lily and my focus of study in college being herbaceous plants (read: wildflowers), a flower was my first choice. My favorite native lily is the trout lily.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxu7E_0VYFY5Aa0uUZJPzh65ZYESuLhAFFEs-hEAGJtfGEgXJNH03k4-Hca4FdZDTonSywq1R2xS9iTudyPow45alSVpXOZ8wydI0MxU4eXv9fI_GGBN0uAFk6xyxhvv8Iw4FuEEsniO0/s1600/troutlily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxu7E_0VYFY5Aa0uUZJPzh65ZYESuLhAFFEs-hEAGJtfGEgXJNH03k4-Hca4FdZDTonSywq1R2xS9iTudyPow45alSVpXOZ8wydI0MxU4eXv9fI_GGBN0uAFk6xyxhvv8Iw4FuEEsniO0/s400/troutlily.jpg" width="326" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Unfortunately, the trout lily is either white or yellow - not awesome tat colors. Between not being able to figure out an artful way to incorporate my trout lily into a tat and the nagging in my head of the trite use of her name to select a design...I abandoned that idea.<br />
<br />
Then I friended Stay At Home Babe's Lerner on Facebook. I knew she was tattooed, and I stalked her lovely ink pictures. She has the hand print of each of her two children on her back. (See her post <a href="http://stayathomebabe.com/2011/01/tattoos-love-em-6-tips-to-love-yours-too/"><u><b>here</b></u></a> in which she recently displayed her art.)<br />
<br />
I was inspired.<br />
<br />
Since I always carry Lily on my left hip, her hand had basically worn its way into my left shoulder blade. I asked her daycare teacher to take a hand print on her 1st birthday for me to use.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhN70deR60KdRcicxiqBP7ZWXP5Ab3DOhNAH1SDYPkdJ9YoH5SUb1uDe4MMnetIIycnB3k5iN1oq5f5ZtD-WPYnWI1U_TmBnDNKR4EQYD5qDgeE4RM5C5-i7ZMXGaAAy8HVf1TosBtEic/s1600/01-25-2011+03%253B06%253B53PM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhN70deR60KdRcicxiqBP7ZWXP5Ab3DOhNAH1SDYPkdJ9YoH5SUb1uDe4MMnetIIycnB3k5iN1oq5f5ZtD-WPYnWI1U_TmBnDNKR4EQYD5qDgeE4RM5C5-i7ZMXGaAAy8HVf1TosBtEic/s320/01-25-2011+03%253B06%253B53PM.JPG" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of four of her 1st birthday hand prints</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I chose her first birthday because it was such a <a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/10/happy-one-to-my-little-one.html"><u><b>milestone</b></u></a> for the two of us. We had conquered quite a bit in the first year of our mother/daughter relationship. From colic, to illness, to depression, to weening just to name a few. We used her birthday as a landmark of new things, new experiences, new life, and greater love. <br />
<br />
In addition to the hand print, I had to incorporate my life motto "This little light of mine". See my post <a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/09/when-one-line-can-mean-so-many.html"><u><b>here</b></u></a> where I delve into the meaning that song holds for me.<br />
<br />
I gave this information to my new-found bestest-ever tattoo artist Kate at Bugaboo Tattoo in Hammond, IN.<br />
<br />
It had been eight years since my last tat. It didn't hurt as much as it had before. Maybe childbirth raised my pain threshold.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMakz-Gv9P8u3zUmR7ZarRXTANJK31Iui7urULTrZfei3EvA6iMCAvtLVqHw5esUMpESo5m1jEBDRG9j2xC4qLyr5CJA_8Lu-zaZlLo8SsYDFjCiCAq9mwadNG5cWqG-TB0-EB-oZSIXU/s1600/RSCN3112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMakz-Gv9P8u3zUmR7ZarRXTANJK31Iui7urULTrZfei3EvA6iMCAvtLVqHw5esUMpESo5m1jEBDRG9j2xC4qLyr5CJA_8Lu-zaZlLo8SsYDFjCiCAq9mwadNG5cWqG-TB0-EB-oZSIXU/s400/RSCN3112.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Or maybe I just knew it would be worth every sting. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-23091407304074114072011-02-24T07:46:00.003-05:002011-02-24T09:35:53.514-05:00I'm going to miss my bedI'll go for weeks without an issue sleeping.<br />
<br />
Crash early. Wake late.<br />
<br />
That is, if I'm at home.<br />
<br />
I went to <a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2011/02/driving-miss-baby.html"><b>visit my mom</b></a> this weekend, so that broke my solid sleep pattern. It's not that I don't feel safe or warm or anything. It's just not my bed.<br />
<br />
That and I was afraid to roll over on the air mattress for fear that I catapult Babygirl into the next apartment Looney Tunes style.<br />
<br />
The main source of sleep bliss is that I haven't had to travel for work since early December. In March, it starts back up.<br />
<br />
Angsty prep for meetings with too many people. The dreaded mingling. Packing, unpacking. Planes, cabs. Ack!<br />
<br />
Yes, I get a king size bed all to myself for some starfish action. No man, no baby, and no fur kids to lay claim on my bed.<br />
<br />
That is exciting.<br />
<br />
But, alas, I am a homebody at heart. I like the sounds and smells of home.<br />
<br />
<br />
*sigh*<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-63599181410479523272011-02-21T08:49:00.001-05:002011-02-21T08:51:25.749-05:00Driving Miss BabyThis weekend we went to stay with my mom. She lives about two hours away - one hour highway, one hour interstate.<br />
<br />
Two hours of driving is a good distance for me. I'm comfortable with interstate driving. I've got a newer safer car. The only variable (other than <i>other</i> drivers) is Babygirl.<br />
<br />
I used to be able to time my long distance drives to avoid heavy traffic, sun in the eyes, optimal arrival times...now I drive when I think she'll sleep the soundest. Sometimes, it just doesn't work out that way.<br />
<br />
Friday afternoon, I picked her up from daycare a smidge early and hit the pavement. She'd had an afternoon nap, but not a great one. Maybe - just maybe - she'll sleep.<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
The first hour on the highway was loaded with snack requests, drink dropping, dancing and snapping her fingers (which looks like a little crab claw motion *mom swoon*). It was good, but got better when we hit the interstate and she passed out.<br />
<br />
Ahhh.<br />
<br />
We made about two-thirds of the interstate leg when I saw a line of brake lights.<br />
<br />
Grumbling under my breath, I slowed to 2 mph and looked in the rearview mirror to see the sun beating down on her face. Never before had I hoped for an interstate parking lot - but then I hoped just for a second to be able to lower her window and stuff a blanket in the crack to block the full on sun. It was hot and miserable for the both of us.<br />
<br />
She woke and fussed - cursing the sun we'd been begging to visit us all winter.<br />
<br />
I called my husband and my mom to check online to see where the accident was because I knew I was about a mile away from an exit - do I take it or will traffic clear? While talking to my mom, traffic picked up! Just as Babygirl shifted into nuclear pissed-off status. We passed a single car, which I learned later, had been on fire.<br />
<br />
About 10 miles up the interstate, I could see flashing lights across the median. Three cars, several emergency vehicles, yadda yadda. Then brake light start tapping in my lane. I pulled into the right lane - away from the looky loos just as we passed the accident. I had just turned my blinker off from switching lanes (yes, I use my blinker. Every time. Dammit) when the full size pickup with a bed full of firewood that had been behind me rear-ended the SUV that had been in front of me. Bumpers on the ground.<br />
<br />
I got the HELL out of dodge - fighting every urge to scream/cry/pull over and squeeze my little Puddin' Pop until her eyes bugged out of her pretty little head.<br />
<br />
We made it to my mom's without a scratch - or Babygirl going completely nuts. We had a fabulous visit with many wonderful people. The return trip was utterly and completely uneventful. Whew. <br />
<br />
Next time I plan a trip, I'll be sure to take the full moon into consideration, too.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-10221767485311610722011-02-16T09:45:00.000-05:002011-02-16T09:45:01.435-05:00Leave me breathlessI am. THE most. <i>Miserable.</i> Person to share a bed with. (like real sleep)<br />
<br />
Not that the person sharing the bed with me is miserable -- no, I am. <br />
<br />
See, I'm a cuddler. I love to be close and snuggly. During waking hours.<br />
<br />
When it's time to hit the hay, I need my space for slumber. I don't mind contact while I sleep - I just can't stand being breathed on.<br />
<br />
WHAT??<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Yes, breath. To Hubs's defense, this issue long outlives our relationship. He's up on his hygiene, and it's not a smell issue. It's the heat that gets me.<br />
<br />
I remember laying in between my parents on their bed on the rare occasion I would end up in their room - and have them both facing me -- asleep. Breathing on me. Arms over me. I learned what claustrophobia was long before I could pronounce it. I had no place to turn, no way to leave.<br />
<br />
Between that and my light sleeper status - I've been known to obsess over avoiding being breathed on or breathing on Hubs. I'll toss and turn to adjust my position, and heaven forbid should he turn my way once I'm situated. Often my little 5'4" body is shifted so that my feet hang over the end of the bed in order to breathe on an entirely different plane than him.<br />
<br />
Hot used breath bugs me.<br />
<br />
This is why an airplane sitting on the tarmac without air actively blowing bugs me.<br />
<br />
There is an eHarmony (or the like) commercial on right now where a couple is forehead-to-forehead standing there breathing each other's air (who does that?) and it nearly causes me to spiral in panic. <br />
<br />
<br />
It's a miserable problem. I've known no other person who has this issue.<br />
<br />
I'm off the hook nuts-o.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-15456161341624537372011-02-14T09:10:00.000-05:002011-02-14T09:10:30.646-05:00Revenge of the tiny bathroomWe have two bathrooms in our house. One in the hallway that is the kids/guest bathroom, and one accessible only via the master bedroom.<br />
<br />
<br />
The hall/guest bath has a shower/tub. It's small. It's functional.<br />
<br />
The master bath has a huge garden tub plus shower stall. It's huge, and we love it!<br />
<br />
The guest bathroom has an inferiority complex, and it lashes out at our guests.<br />
<a name='more'></a>The toilet (that I installed with my own two hands) works perfectly fine 99% of the time. Unfortunately, we went through a period where every time we had visitors, the potty would back up on one of them. One poor visitor had the toilet back up on her - and THEN the door knob fell off inside - locking her in while she plunged!!<br />
<br />
It was embarrassing for them, for us - everyone.<br />
<br />
The bathroom was out to get our guests!!<br />
<br />
One day, my husband was helping me prep for another visit - yes, I have a fantastic wonderful husband who realizes that the REASON the toilets need to be cleaned is not because I miss so HE does them!<br />
<br />
I have a <u><i>GOD</i></u> of a husband!<br />
<br />
(And that's all I'll say in light of a holiday that I'm finding pisses more people off than it brings joy - I'm in the latter category)<br />
<br />
He was using a paper towel to clean, and in passing I saw him throw the used paper towel in the toilet and FLUSH!<br />
<br />
GAH!<br />
<br />
Of course, the whirlwind cleaning happens just before a guest comes - and then we don't use the bathroom after cleaning until the guest arrives.<br />
<br />
DUH!<br />
<br />
So, I'm not making any promises that future guests won't have an issue in our bathroom. <br />
<br />
It still has a small potty complex and all...<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-88042873969059177272011-02-10T00:30:00.000-05:002011-02-10T00:30:21.457-05:00New addition to our family - without the swollen ankles We have a new member of our family...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIn43_H6SLW4HTWGrac-wvvtPQ1_2KedteLtkXncaZVl4HnDYyZbmZgdm-Vhl9ubw3pawutCUapT7cs_olCR1VzSGO4eEpmiD5rvbZm7KeyHZPJMVYhzxQUPmNXeVnhOWLogXGJM_wSA/s1600/Compass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIn43_H6SLW4HTWGrac-wvvtPQ1_2KedteLtkXncaZVl4HnDYyZbmZgdm-Vhl9ubw3pawutCUapT7cs_olCR1VzSGO4eEpmiD5rvbZm7KeyHZPJMVYhzxQUPmNXeVnhOWLogXGJM_wSA/s320/Compass.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 2009 Jeep Compass! <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
<tr></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Yes, that is my glove in the pic - I wasn't about to go back out in the cold to re-take when I noticed it)<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>She's comfy and cozy (with heated seats!) - most importantly she's got 4 wheel drive! <br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Unfortunately, her arrival comes at the expense of the loss of a beloved family member.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzWL316aUMgGUrER-5IOpXv4T7bXtddQvMKUSGbwPk-Z3WDzQUQgfbSt0RiGQKh-hx4OyfgfY_m0LQcBSnZcu0vr2CuNmhpI72_1SEM30d3z-dw3CGA1OGVqN5LJt7J-cHDAD2969ZDk/s1600/Focus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzWL316aUMgGUrER-5IOpXv4T7bXtddQvMKUSGbwPk-Z3WDzQUQgfbSt0RiGQKh-hx4OyfgfY_m0LQcBSnZcu0vr2CuNmhpI72_1SEM30d3z-dw3CGA1OGVqN5LJt7J-cHDAD2969ZDk/s320/Focus.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cloud - '03 Ford Focus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>150,000 miles we shared in 7 years. This car has taken our family to Colorado, the Smoky Mountains, to Red River Gorge, and West Virginia. Without a whisper of complaint (on her part - not mine) she commuted with me (at one point 2 hours one way). She took me to my graduation for my master's degree, moved us to 3 different rentals and our first house, drove me to several pivotal job interviews, took me to my wedding, and carried us safely home with our precious new baby daughter. She's done moderate off-roading, busted through snow drifts, climbed our treacherous driveway a zillion times. She's hauled lumber and trash cans. She's been where no Focus was designed to go - and only has ever asked for minor tune-ups and tire/oil changes. <br />
<br />
I'd keep her forever if our driveway wasn't such a bear to deal with - or if the little gal had 4wd!<br />
<br />
I love my new car, and expect to have some wonderful memories with it. Her arrival is bittersweet - I'm going to miss my baby.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-26517748505601802122011-02-08T09:54:00.000-05:002011-02-08T09:54:19.212-05:00MSM is One Year Old!(That's like 400 years old in internet years!)<br />
<br />
For this post, I wanted to do a retrospective of what the last year has taught me...<br />
<br />
<ul><li>Being a mom makes me <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/03/if-you-were-to-paint-my-thoughts-theyd.html">gush</a></b> and <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/07/drip-drip-momma-sap.html">gush</a></b> and <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/09/when-one-line-can-mean-so-many.html">gush</a></b>, but has pushed me to the <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/08/anyone-got-fingernail-scrub-brush.html">brink of crazy</a></b> to<b> <a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/07/cleaning-house-well-not-really.html">certified nut-so</a></b> and into a <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/08/like-nailing-jello-to-wall.html">therapist's chair</a></b> - and that's ok.</li>
<li>A struggle with my <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-can-make-excuses-or-i-can-do.html">weight</a></b> and <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/09/conference-mania-mirror-image.html">self-image</a></b> can be thwarted by <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-made-list.html">facing the challenge head on</a></b> to <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2011/02/ushering-in-new-you.html">see incredible results</a></b>.</li>
<li>Sometimes life just throws you curveballs, for example:</li>
</ul><ul><ul><li>Our house has no exception to the <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/07/shit-rolls-down-hillalong-with-other.html">law of gravity</a></b>...</li>
<li>Stomach bugs don't always hit when <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/11/bet-youve-never-had-this-happen-to-you.html">you're at home</a></b>...</li>
<li>Telemarketers have <b><a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2011/01/apparently-my-innie-should-have-been.html">bad days too</a></b>...</li>
</ul></ul>It has been a crazy year - I wouldn't ask for a refund for any moment. 176 posts later, I'm still here writing - and by some twist of fate - you're still here reading.<br />
<br />
And I thank you!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-88927709240835646142011-02-04T17:11:00.001-05:002011-02-08T11:00:08.827-05:00Ushering in a new YOUNew year's resolutions are funny.<br />
<br />
In November and December, they sit comfortably in the future. Something to do on January 1st. After the stuffing and mashed 'taters, gingerbread men, and champagne are all gone. Then the new year comes.<br />
<br />
Oh no. Now, you have to stick with it. You've told one too many people.<br />
<br />
You buy the gym membership or sets of dvds. You get the gym shoes and matching workout clothes. Matching sports bra, too. No sense in working out if you don't feel good about yourself.<br />
<br />
You. are. dedicated. You do the workouts religiously. You're sore, but it's good. You're doing it!<br />
<br />
Second week, you missed a couple workouts because your legs were crampy...your cute outfit didn't make it into the wash last night...you're busy. Next week for reals.<br />
<br />
Third week...um, I think the dvd is still in the player. No, wait, the kids wanted to watch their movie. Nevermind.<br />
<br />
And it's gone. Poof.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Maybe when spring rolls around, and I can get out...<br />
<br />
Maybe by summer, I'll get into that bathing suit.<br />
<br />
Maybe when the kids go back to school, I will totally dedicate the time...<br />
<br />
Maybe that'll be my New Year's resolution...<br />
<br />
Does this sound familiar? "It's too hard to count calories and manage points." "I simply don't have the time to work out 60 minutes a day!!"<br />
<br />
That was me. Guess what... That's STILL ME!<br />
<br />
Finally, the program that allowed me to make this transformation...in EIGHT WEEKS is available!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSVZX6BT5a-VCZfz3AKoQ-54eb899Mi9xEmiUsILAfLj2J8zXvN67EKZ2bPb6tdFFVWLrYso6UYXzYu5GetmwTsROG7Twr-og80IBxvl6CLDKCgeYjtxK5W3IMmAn8n1tmQ3L6UC9DOA/s1600/8+week+blog+side.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSVZX6BT5a-VCZfz3AKoQ-54eb899Mi9xEmiUsILAfLj2J8zXvN67EKZ2bPb6tdFFVWLrYso6UYXzYu5GetmwTsROG7Twr-og80IBxvl6CLDKCgeYjtxK5W3IMmAn8n1tmQ3L6UC9DOA/s320/8+week+blog+side.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>NO EQUIPMENT NEEDED. SIMPLE MEAL PLAN. 30 MINUTES WORKING OUT 4 DAYS A WEEK!! <i>That's it!!</i><br />
<br />
For more information, go <a href="http://www.howdoesshedoitmom.com/mom-fitness-makeover-its-ready/"><u><i><b>HERE</b></i></u></a>!<br />
<br />
If you don't do this program - do something. Do anything! Start writing that book. Learn a new craft. Call your mom more often! SOMETHING.<br />
<br />
February is the month of love - at least that's Hallmark's plea.<br />
<br />
Give some love to yourself! Mom's are so hell-bent on doing for those that they love that they neglect themselves. Mark your schedule, make time. Don't do it because of guilt - don't do it because I or anyone else said you should. Do it FOR YOU. Period.<br />
<br />
Positivity breeds positivity!<br />
<br />
I found my light - my joy - my overall fitness, where will you find yours?<br />
<br />
<a href="mailto:callingmodernsupermomma@gmail.com"><u><b>Email</b></u></a> me if you do join the How Does She Do It Mom - Mom Fitness Makeover, and I'll invite you to join a Facebook support group. Having contact with others in the program helped me through the first challenging weeks and gave me so much joy to see the others find their light!<br />
<br />
<i>Just an FYI - I get no commission or reimbursement of my endorsement of the How Does She Do It Mom program. This is my own personal testimony and my own real results. I share this information with hopes that someone that is searching for a better self might push themselves to stand up and take charge.</i><div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-41226496700238745322011-02-04T09:30:00.001-05:002011-02-08T11:00:37.671-05:00ClutterI am surrounded by piles of nothing.<br />
<br />
My office, my place of mental function and bread winning, is trashed.<br />
<br />
Of course, instead of taking 20 minutes to find a home for our camping gear and purge piles of mail...I blog.<br />
<br />
Yep. I know.<br />
<br />
It doesn't help that the last communal (non-bedroom) closet in the house was just emptied last weekend to install our brand new (old, but refurbished) water softener. No more <a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/09/rhino-piss-bath-and-so-many-lies.html">sludgy, stainy water</a>!! It is crystal clear!!<br />
<br />
But alas, the goods all spilled into my office, and I'm surrounded by the stuff we've moved 8 times from apartment to house to house to apartment... and never dealt with. This "stuff" pile has gotten smaller over the years as we lost the massive storage space to convert that room into a nursery.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHNsKNJbv2MUpfkJxXqVfNC2MB6t9SbGyxbNcwdKFaFaGMQv0ITI7dodzerXZDsb5utdZIn_BOfSAI0ojbosBHQJGT1TxsUYx6F5cW8pShlRPWt4i5JtmCHmna9VqUkMZljjMIHmMPWM/s1600/manda+postcard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHNsKNJbv2MUpfkJxXqVfNC2MB6t9SbGyxbNcwdKFaFaGMQv0ITI7dodzerXZDsb5utdZIn_BOfSAI0ojbosBHQJGT1TxsUYx6F5cW8pShlRPWt4i5JtmCHmna9VqUkMZljjMIHmMPWM/s200/manda+postcard.jpg" width="199" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I will never throw away this postcard - ever! </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It probably is a good thing to be forced into looking at the bottom of that pile.<br />
<br />
Some things need to be reconsidered now that we've moved into our current stage of life: boxes of empty jewel cases - the cds have long since been lost or destroyed in use. Dog E collar, old sleeping bags, files and files of papers that it would take 20 times longer to locate than just to Google the info. <br />
<br />
Other things have withstood many a previous purge: Notes and postcards from high school and college. Letters from an elderly childhood neighbor. Framed posters we used to decorate our first house together. Pictures that adorned our first shared walls. Those stay. We may not hang them, but they stay.<br />
<br />
I'm putting my sentimental foot down. Some things are ok to keep. Hoarding isn't always bad. Sometimes it's just a matter of keeping things that mean something to you.<br />
<br />
That's an argument better made in a room much less cluttered.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-6349303929363963632011-02-01T09:58:00.000-05:002011-02-01T09:58:52.035-05:00Selfishness in a crisisThe natural reaction to a looming threat is to take care of yourself and your family.<br />
<br />
I get that.<br />
<br />
You don't go and donate to Goodwill and do a Locks-of-Love ponytail when a huge ice storm threatens. That's understandable.<br />
<br />
When a weather system is on it's way throngs of people go to Walmart to make sure they've got diapers, salt, canned foods, and other essentials (read: alcohol and sweets) to make it through a potential stranding.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
I am one of those people. I went to get milk and a few other things to make it through - veggies, summer sausage, hot dogs -- things that don't REQUIRE cooking to nourish my family. I don't ever buy more than a week's worth of goods in these situations (1) because SERIOUSLY I'll walk to town before then and (2) if the power goes out I don't want to have to deal with all of that food. Winter storms have less of a threat of spoiling food - but if your power is out...you likely won't be sticking around to eat your body weight in cold pizza snacks.<br />
<br />
I was joking about going to town to elbow old ladies to get to the last loaf of bread at the store. I went - there was some elbowing - but because of my limited carb intake I skipped the bread isle. Thank goodness. It was empty except for a few of visibly damaged loaves.<br />
<br />
What I did notice was not a SINGLE CART with only one loaf of bread. Most had four or five loaves!<br />
<br />
What IN THE HELL are you going to do with five loaves of bread?? You're going to end up freezing them and keeping them until LONG after the storm is done. While others who need a loaf will go without.<br />
<br />
That pisses me off.<br />
<br />
I simply don't understand why you need to be able to make triple stack French toast enough to serve a football team when you know that others will be looking for the ability to make sandwiches in case of a power outage as well.<br />
<br />
Maybe I'm not taking this storm seriously enough. Maybe I'll be without power for weeks without the ability to go somewhere else. Maybe I won't be able to find dry wood to start a fire in the fire pit to MAKE bread in my dutch oven. Maybe this snowstorm is going to render the Midwest breadless for WEEKS after the storm because of the acute demand.<br />
<br />
Or maybe people are just selfish and think they are being filmed for a Supermarket Sweep: Ice Storm Edition.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~</div>Also, if I'm in line ahead of you to check-out, and the person in front of me has a bunch of stuff (including SEVEN loaves of wonder bread) and my stuff is not close to being scanned but is all loaded on the conveyor. I'm not moving up and crowding. Don't breathe on my neck because I will turn around and tell you to back off. You're the asshole on a Chips-a-Hoy single item run. You should have gone to CVS and avoided the Walmart panic.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-34042755769144609162011-01-31T08:44:00.000-05:002011-01-31T08:44:20.760-05:00Valuing our time together - despite every plan I had to make it perfectHubs and I planned a pre-Valentine's day weekend away with my mom to take the baby.<br />
<br />
I told him that I'd take the helm on planning this one - as he planned the last (<a href="http://modernsupermomma.blogspot.com/2010/10/haunted-anniversary.html">haunted</a>) one -- and I need to catch up on sleep with this trip.<br />
<br />
Super secretly, I chose to head north (yes, in winter) for our weekend.<br />
<br />
Four winds casino is about an hour from my mom's house. We'd be close to a few of our favorite haunts -- and the restaurant I fell in love with last year. I even landed a deal of a whirlpool room at a nearby hotel! SA-WEET!<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
T-minus 3 days before departure, I get a call from the hotel that they, in fact, do not have any whirlpool rooms available (due to renovations) and that they'd give me a kitchenette room instead. I was disappointed, but ok.<br />
<br />
T-minus 2 days before departure, I realize that we are EXTREMELY tight on money because the taxes I submitted won't be processed until mid-Feb because of some stupidness that spanks me in the ass when I try to be on top of things (<i>the previous statement is not intended to have a "fun" or "sexual" connotation, although I'm positive some will construe it that way).</i><br />
<br />
Then Friday night - preparing for our Saturday morning departure...I get a call from Aunt Flo that she's going along with us on our mini-vacay. <i>fantastic. </i>She failed to mention that she was bringing along her evil twin sisters Aunt Migraine and Aunt Crampy. <i>grr.</i><br />
<br />
I'm trying hard not to feel like this is a failure of a trip. Hubs is just excited to be baby-free and to see what I have in store for him.<br />
<br />
We arrive in town, and check into the hotel. Our king size suite was HUGE with a separate bedroom and everything! I heart Holiday Inn Express - and choose to stay there whenever possible - the one in New Buffalo, MI just reinforced that love.<br />
<br />
I decided that we'd take the shuttle to the casino in case we both decide to drink while we are there. Because of our severe brokeassedness, we dug through my car and pulled every last penny out of it. The shuttle was 40 minutes late picking us up (being late is a HUGE pet peeve of mine - especially when I'm handed a schedule and told that these people are ALWAYS on time). I let it roll.<br />
<br />
We get there - the casino is lovely. A little smokey for my tastes, but lovely. We figured out that we needed to cash in our coins for bills to be able to play. $22. That means $11 for each of us. I was a little embarrassed at first, but decided that losing $22 that had been laying around in my car collecting lint, cheerio dust and melted chapstick (yes, ewww...) was probably costing me on gas mileage - so removing it is a win-win!<br />
<br />
We got about 3 hours of gambling in with that much money!<br />
<br />
We had a buffet dinner - which had come highly recommended. Unfortunately, the timing of the shuttle set us back a bit. We arrived at the buffet right at dinner time (when the prices jack up). When the price of $58 came up for the two of us, I nearly shit a brick.<br />
<br />
I ate two half-full plates of food. Hubs at a little more. Casino won on that round.<br />
<br />
We had a blast - but we were out of money and wanted to head back to the hotel. The shuttle was AN HOUR late picking us up!! GAH!! It was very frustrating.<br />
<br />
Upon return to our hotel, we drove into town in search of a liquor store as we stayed stone sober in the casino because of the prices. On our way, we passed my favorite restaurant bearing the sign "Closed for the season." Shoulders slump...again. Seven up and mandarin Absolut made up for it.<br />
<br />
Overall, we enjoyed ourselves. Yes, we had setbacks - Yes, I wish I could have done a few things differently. We'll just have to come back with a little more planned out ahead.<br />
<br />
It was just what we needed.<br />
<br />
Oh, and my Aunts Flo, Migraine, and Crampy can go to hell.<br />
<br />
:)<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-14418173253811425482011-01-28T08:49:00.001-05:002011-01-28T09:43:59.117-05:00Waving good-byeSome people have the luxury of staying at home with their children. By luxury, I'm referring to the opportunity and not the lap in which a SAHM or SAHD sits.<br />
<br />
I, although I did try my damnedest, am not that fortunate.<br />
<br />
I drive the 15 miles into town twice a day and back to leave my daughter at day care. Yes, I work at home - but that doesn't give me an extra set of hands, another brain, and four times the energy to work 50+ hours a week AND chase a toddler.<br />
<br />
Go ahead - judge me for my decision to not work through the night and be exhausted while I half-assed care for my kid. I tried it. Nobody wins. I'm secure in my choice. It didn't work for our family. If you can do it, and not land yourself in the looney bin - fantastic for you and your family!<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
One thing that I love more than anything is how much my daughter LOVES the people who care for her. She giggles with delight as we approach the building. I have to fight to get her coat off of her because she's already diving in the half-door toward welcoming arms.<br />
<br />
I know she is safe. I know she is learning. I know she is developing socially. And I know she is loved.<br />
<br />
We were lucky to have only gone through one iffy caretaker before we found our match.<br />
<br />
Yes, she has electric green snot more often than I'd prefer. I keep telling myself that her system won't be shocked later on when she's introduced to germ buckets later. I also know that part of that is utter bullshit. She'll still get sick. And she'll still bring it home to my hermit, housed-dwelling ass.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, when I leave her - she cries. Sometimes, she ignores me as her attention is on the morning bowl of Cheerios or children running around.<br />
<br />
This morning, she turned from her bowl. Smiled. And waved good-bye.<br />
<br />
It broke my heart.<br />
<br />
I'm still crying.<br />
<br />
She's safe - and I sure as shit wouldn't get my work done with her here - but dammit if I didn't want to just scoop her blond hair, blue eyed little butt up and bring her back to cuddle.<br />
<br />
*tear*<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-12415643734398899242011-01-27T09:00:00.000-05:002011-01-27T09:00:11.822-05:00My cup runneth over...and over...could someone grab me a towel -- GEEZEMy head is spinning. I've been so busy these last few weeks I really don't know if I'm coming or going. Once again, I've committed to more side projects - personal and professional - that are filling every waking moment of every day.<br />
<br />
I like to be busy, but lordy, it wears on a girl.<br />
<br />
I got a new phone 2 weeks ago and still have yet to program any numbers into it. I've been <i>that</i> busy. <br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
I'm one of those people who hates to be bored. I get all whiny and take share the misery with everyone within 20 miles of me. Especially in winter. All cooped up and nothing to do. With baby who is my exact replica.<br />
<br />
We drive each other bonkers on weekends. BONKERS.<br />
<br />
We have a few fun weekends coming up, so maybe that monotony will be broken.<br />
<br />
I've been trying really hard to keep from having a laptop screen between my face and Babygirl's. Some days, I am better with that than others.<br />
<br />
<i>Just one more quick thing...</i><br />
<br />
It's a challenge to get everything done. To meet my expectations and everyone elses.<br />
<br />
I've not looked at a computer screen after 5pm for a couple days now. I'm excited about that achievement/decision/why-the-hell-is-that-either??<br />
<br />
It makes my mornings a little more jumbled, but this may have to be my new routine.<br />
<br />
We'll see...<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-33897915655168211582011-01-24T11:45:00.001-05:002011-01-31T08:45:24.922-05:00If given a box, what would you have made??Stop for one moment.<br />
<br />
<i>When you had the opportunity to play by yourself as a child - say between the ages of 8 and 11 - what did you do? When given the "world is your oyster" opportunity, what was your default? When your imagination was not hindered by compromising with siblings or friends - where did it wander?? What did you dream? If given a box, what would you have made?</i><br />
<br />
When I was in high school, the guidance counselor had us each take a career assessment to help guide us on what professional careers we should pursue based on our interests. Living in a Chicago suburb, I was mortified to find that my recommended career field was in Agriculture. <i>Mortified.</i><br />
<br />
They were right, in a sense - as I have not one, but two College of Agriculture degrees. I digress.<br />
<br />
Asking those simple questions with which I started this post would have more directly led me to my field of choice.<br />
<br />
My brother is 2 years younger than me. We played together a lot. A LOT. <i>A LOT!</i> But there were times when we went our separate ways, and in those moments I would play:<br />
<ol><li>School - I loved to play teacher and help students with math homework. There was no such thing as a stupid question.</li>
<li>Nature Hikes - I used to lead pretend hikes in my backyard describing the trees, plants and animals I saw. If I could coax him from his flower garden, I would take my neighbor Grandpa Charlie (~70 at the time) on those hikes once I got my route and topics planned.</li>
<li>Form-Filler-Outer - I would make forms like Name:______ Address:_______ Age:______, etc... and then fill it out. Sometimes I would ask my mom to make the forms to see if I could fill out anything she asked.</li>
<li>House - with several children including an ugly child (I borrowed bro's My Pet Monster for that) just to show that I could and would love no matter what. (What kind of messed up child was I??)</li>
</ol><a name='more'></a>And look at me as a grown-up: <ol><li>I spent most of my college years as a teaching assistant for one, if not two, classes a semester. I loved helping people "get it" for themselves. (There IS such a thing as a stupid question...if you've not heard one, try helping college students in a Friday morning lab.)</li>
<li>My favorite job - <i>ever</i> - was as a naturalist where I was given the ability to plan and give hikes at a state park. (I would be doing it to this day if it weren't for having to work every weekend - I enjoyed it while it lasted.)</li>
<li>My current job is in market research involving online surveys. Although as a child I would not have been able to imagine the ability to fill out a form on a computer or pretend to cyber-commute in my jammies.</li>
<li>My most prize possession is the relationship that I have with my daughter and stepson. (Neither of which are ugly, but apparently that wouldn't matter!) There was a period in my life that I didn't think I wanted children, but boy am I glad to have those two.</li>
</ol>I value the experience I had working in retail and detailing cars. Running chainsaws and driving tractors. I had jobs that I hated - mostly food related. All of these experiences brought me to my appreciation of the <i>good</i> jobs I've had and for the people that do all types of jobs. <br />
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But maybe, just maybe, if I'd been asked those questions when I started college - I could have jumped over a few "opportunities" that turned out to be poor-fitting jobs for me.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8165870968013140624.post-13755415512126628542011-01-23T07:35:00.000-05:002011-01-23T07:35:38.435-05:00I need a bubble bath evening - Stream of Consciousness Sunday<i>It's Stream of Consciousness Sunday - </i><i><i>Hoste</i>d by <a href="http://allthingsfadra.com/">Allthingsfadra.com</a>. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want t<i>o try it? Here are the rules…</i></i><br />
<ul><li><i>Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.</i></li>
<li><i>Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is <i>writing in the raw</i>.</i></li>
<li><i>Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.</i></li>
<li><i>Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.</i></li>
<li><i>Link up your post <a href="http://allthingsfadra.com/2011/01/stream-of-consciousness-sunday-its-all-about-stuff/">here</a>.</i></li>
<li><i>Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.</i></li>
</ul><br />
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It's dark in the living room. Quiet and dark. We had a great party yesterday - baloons, streamers, surprised stepson half to dealth! It was great!! The kids played pin the glasses on harry potter...ate two types of homemade kcake, and the sprizes diddn't suck either. It made me feel like I've still got a sense of what it takes to be "in" or "hip" or "cool" or whatever the hell it's called these days... Now, today, I must reclaim my house - from the party and from myself. Too many piles of clothes in my room - too many sizes. Goodwill is getting my shit, like it or not! I've been so busy in the evenings with cleaning or managing Hub's music project or prepping for the party that I'm just zapped. And now it's tax time. That's one more night of my life. THen they are mine again - to whittle away on Facebook and Twitter and blogs, just like I like them. Ok, time's up - must go begin my day. Happy Sunday.<br />
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<center><a href="http://www.allthingsfadra.com/" target="_blank" title="all.things.fadra"><img alt="#SOCsunday" border="0" src="http://i1095.photobucket.com/albums/i475/FadraN/ATFmeme3.jpg" /></a></center><div class="blogger-post-footer">Bookmark us at www.modernsupermomma.com!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5