<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994</id><updated>2009-07-15T05:02:37.464-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That's Life v 2.0</title><subtitle type='html'>The Real Life Tales of the Incredible Family</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>511</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-5295528755085342682</id><published>2009-07-13T19:00:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T21:55:40.181-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>The Important Stuff</title><content type='html'>It is ironic, because I wrote &lt;a href="http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/07/you-are-here.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; post last week, and so much of it is applicable again.  If you didn't read it, or don't want to click over, the first paragraph was this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;Life's map sure has it's share of twists and turns. You think you know exactly where you are and where you are going and then someone comes over and points out that you have the map upside down. Or the cosmic forces come and shake the map, and all the roads and way points get all jumbled up. Or sometimes, everything is still right where it was, but the signs are suddenly in a foreign language.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a few of those twists and turns yesterday.  Yesterday, less than 5 miles into our trip north for 5 days of camping, the trailer, that my dad was pulling in front of us, started to shimmy back and forth.  My dad and my mom and Dash were riding in the truck pulling the trailer. The Mr., Violet, Jack Jack and myself, were in the car, following behind. The trailer shimmy got worse and worse and every time, I thought it couldn't possibly get worse, it did, until the truck and the trailer were both fishtailing across 5 lanes of traffic on a major California Highway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't even sure I wanted to write this post, because, to be quiet honest, I replayed the scene so many times in my head yesterday and last night, that I wasn't sure I wanted to see it again as I wrote.  But, maybe, by writing it, I can get it out and keep it out.  Because, the ending could have been much, much worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I watched the truck and the trailer I kept hoping that my dad would be able to get it back under control.  The Mr. knew better, he knew it was too far gone for that.  But, I was hoping and praying and muttering "oh no, oh no, Oh NO!"  At the same time I was hoping, I also thought that it was likely that another car was going to hit them.  And I was bracing myself for that.  And then, that didn't happen.  All the cars stopped.  And then, the trailer began to tip and as it did, the truck began to tip, and I thought the whole thing was going over.  And then, that didn't happen.  The trailer broke loose and crashed on it's side on the highway and the truck stayed upright.  And then, it crashed into the median.  And then it was done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Mr. ran across 5 lanes of traffic to get to them.  I told Violet and Jack Jack to stay in the car and gave Violet a bag of things to occupy her brother with and then ran across as well.  My parents were shaken.  Dash was shaken.  But, there were no visible injuries other than a slight bump of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Dash's&lt;/span&gt; head, we think from an elbow.  Someone told me to call 911, but my hands were shaking so bad that I didn't think I could do it.  I had to run back to my own car and sit down  before I could even figure out how to operate my phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were all right. The firemen checked them over.  My mom went to the hospital as a precaution because her chest hurt.  It was a bruise from the seat belt.  But, thank goodness for the seat belt.  Dash just had a bruise by his eye, but we had ice in the cooler in the back of the truck.  My Dad was mostly just shaken, and felt terrible.  I was just glad they were safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlvQfpY08eI/AAAAAAAAHu0/n3QNUry1liE/s1600-h/DSC_0915.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlvQfpY08eI/AAAAAAAAHu0/n3QNUry1liE/s400/DSC_0915.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358105423791845858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is the trailer, it broke completely off the base.  It looks terrible, but the fact that it broke, probably saved the whole truck from turning over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oddly enough, my best friend through school, my maid of honor in my wedding, happened to be driving through and saw us and stopped and helped us get some of the stuff we needed out of the truck and into her car, which she then delivered later, along with hugs and offers of anything else we might need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart did not stop hurting until long after we were all back at my parent's house.  I stayed busy helping clean out the now destroyed trailer and saving all the food and things that could be saved out of it.  I stayed busy, because when I wasn't busy, I kept seeing it again and again and again.  I have almost made it stop now.  We went out to dinner and ordered whatever we wanted without guilt.  We came home and had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;s'mores&lt;/span&gt; and beer around my parent's fire pit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlvSd_7OCwI/AAAAAAAAHu8/pD0L23zsfb0/s1600-h/DSC_0935.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlvSd_7OCwI/AAAAAAAAHu8/pD0L23zsfb0/s400/DSC_0935.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358107594505194242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were given a very generous offer by my mom's friend of use of their condo on the beach and we are going to take her up on that for a couple days starting tomorrow.  We will relax and remember that a camping trip ending too soon is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;disappointing&lt;/span&gt;, the damage done to the truck will be fixed, the trailer is destroyed beyond repair and that is sad, but there are so many things more important than that stuff.   And here is the last paragraph of that almost prophetic post:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;So, we are here. And soon we will be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;waaayyy&lt;/span&gt; over there. And it will be good. Or it might not be. Because sometimes life is like that. But, I like to think that even when you can't read the map, and you feel a little lost (or a lot lost), that if you just keep moving forward, you will get somewhere. And "Somewhere" might not be where you expected, but it is still your "Here." And your journey to Here, might just be the thing that makes you stronger and more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;appreciative&lt;/span&gt; of the people who are on the road with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because sometimes life is like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And your journey to Here, might  be the thing that makes you stronger and more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;appreciative&lt;/span&gt; of the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;people who are on the road with you.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-5295528755085342682?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/5295528755085342682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=5295528755085342682&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5295528755085342682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5295528755085342682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/07/important-stuff.html' title='The Important Stuff'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlvQfpY08eI/AAAAAAAAHu0/n3QNUry1liE/s72-c/DSC_0915.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-7049773806897889775</id><published>2009-07-11T16:01:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T16:20:51.158-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Happy Tired</title><content type='html'>We just spent two days, and much of our money at Disneyland and California Adventures.  It was a ton of fun.  I wasn't sure how much the kids would like California Adventures, but it was well worth it and there were a lot less people and shorter lines to make it even better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we are recuperating from all the fun AND getting ready to leave for some camping in the mountains.  I have a couple substantial posts floating around in my brain, but I think they are going to have to wait.  So, until then, enjoy the pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkAKghESbI/AAAAAAAAHnE/U4hEQj9-Y9M/s1600-h/DSC_0782.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkAKghESbI/AAAAAAAAHnE/U4hEQj9-Y9M/s400/DSC_0782.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357313412261235122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Incredible Family about to start Day #1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkALLk7TJI/AAAAAAAAHnM/qHxsHZa4NOw/s1600-h/DSC_0834.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkALLk7TJI/AAAAAAAAHnM/qHxsHZa4NOw/s400/DSC_0834.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357313423820147858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mom and Dash about to Ride Dumbo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkALbIUrXI/AAAAAAAAHnU/RxSJpOaL1js/s1600-h/DSC_0863.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkALbIUrXI/AAAAAAAAHnU/RxSJpOaL1js/s400/DSC_0863.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357313427995143538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Daddy even got Jack Jack on a Roller Coaster&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkALz7EfwI/AAAAAAAAHnc/1ZZXe65KjoU/s1600-h/DSC_0890.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkALz7EfwI/AAAAAAAAHnc/1ZZXe65KjoU/s400/DSC_0890.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357313434650443522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jumping Jellyfish!  Jack Jack liked going up high WAY more than mom did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkAMFh1zxI/AAAAAAAAHnk/PwY0qKdxWA8/s1600-h/DSC_0913.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkAMFh1zxI/AAAAAAAAHnk/PwY0qKdxWA8/s400/DSC_0913.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357313439376461586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Mr. and I in front of the street that went on forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkAxzbi26I/AAAAAAAAHn0/na6QwYERGCU/s1600-h/DSC_0876.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkAxzbi26I/AAAAAAAAHn0/na6QwYERGCU/s400/DSC_0876.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357314087353244578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Violet's name actually starts with this letter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkBzoiu1BI/AAAAAAAAHn8/tPdrT2QU22c/s1600-h/DSC_0910.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkBzoiu1BI/AAAAAAAAHn8/tPdrT2QU22c/s400/DSC_0910.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357315218301965330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Those brave enough to ride the Tower of Terror (plus,  a small someone who felt left out and was running to get into the picture).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-7049773806897889775?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/7049773806897889775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=7049773806897889775&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/7049773806897889775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/7049773806897889775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/07/happy-tired.html' title='Happy Tired'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlkAKghESbI/AAAAAAAAHnE/U4hEQj9-Y9M/s72-c/DSC_0782.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-3500021866764825798</id><published>2009-07-07T06:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T07:04:37.987-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jack jack attack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Finally</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlM3i_bJ_JI/AAAAAAAAHco/3HAOgHth3xQ/s1600-h/calendar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlM3i_bJ_JI/AAAAAAAAHco/3HAOgHth3xQ/s400/calendar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355685456154066066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I made this calendar, because 4 year-olds don't have a very good sense of time.  All he knew was that we were going to Disneyland and it was soon, so every time we got ready to get in the car, he figured we must be on the way to the airport.  Well, before those X's began to mark off the dates, that was all he could think about.  Explaining days to him didn't work.  So, we needed a visual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a very good artist, but I made it and it worked.  And Jack Jack got to mark the previous day as complete, when he got up in the morning. So, every morning he would wake up (usually sometime between 5 and 5:45 am) and announce that he needed to go "MARK THE DAY!"  And then he got to draw a star on the current day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, he got to draw a star on "Airplane Day!" Unfortunately there are still hours until we leave for the airport, so I hope Jack Jack and Dash don't lose their minds before then.  It also seems that I still have some packing to do.  And some cleaning to do.  So, why am I sitting here blogging and twittering and facebooking?  Oh, because I haven't finished my coffee yet, and nothing gets done before that cup of coffee is complete.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-3500021866764825798?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/3500021866764825798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=3500021866764825798&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/3500021866764825798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/3500021866764825798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/07/finally.html' title='Finally'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SlM3i_bJ_JI/AAAAAAAAHco/3HAOgHth3xQ/s72-c/calendar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-1028602576084825995</id><published>2009-07-02T07:38:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T13:48:25.238-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Here'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>You Are Here</title><content type='html'>Life's map sure has it's share of twists and turns.  You think you know exactly where you are and where you are going and then someone comes over and points out that you have the map upside down.  Or the cosmic forces come and shakes the map, and all the roads and way points get all jumbled up.  Or sometimes, everything is still right where it was, but the signs are suddenly in a foreign language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like my spring and early summer contained some of all of those map confusers.  At yet, here we are,  safely into July already.  We survived the Great Kidney Stone Drama of 2009.  The Mr. is on the road to recovery and feeling much better.  He is not in pain, he is not on meds and in a couple months they will run some tests to see if they can find out what caused the stones so we don't ever have to go through that again.  His doctor, proclaimed that he was the toughest stone case he had ever had.  Lucky us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baseball season ended last week with Dash's team winning the Championship tournament. They were not the best team going in, but they went on a winning streak at just the right time.  His league is not one of those in which everyone gets a trophy.  Only the top two teams in the season and the tournament walk away with one.  And so, this smile and this trophy were great prizes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkytP98nJhI/AAAAAAAAHcI/fEhHBhWVguY/s1600-h/DSC_0770.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkytP98nJhI/AAAAAAAAHcI/fEhHBhWVguY/s400/DSC_0770.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353844546875106834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Violet's last day of summer school, one high school credit earned.  Even as busy as she has been, she told me that this has been "the best summer ever!"  The reason? because she spends all of summer school with her friends, and then sees her friends again at soccer practice, and then, tries to plan as many opportunities to see her friends again.  The Best Summer EVER!  Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are getting ready for our trek west.  We had to rearrange our plans a little bit.  We had been planning, since last summer, a four day backpacking trip in the Sierras.  We had been buying the gear, planning our routes, planning the food...  And then, first of all, my grandparents got sick. They were going to watch Jack Jack for us.  But, my grandma was diagnosed with breast cancer (they got it all, but she will need radiation) and my grandpa just had a double bypass and valve replacement.  And so, they were going to be in no shape to watch a very mischievous 4 year old.  We recruited a couple other relatives, but I was really worried about how he would do.  He has been such a mama's boy, and he doesn't know these other relatives as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, it took 3 surgeries to get the Mr.'s kidney stones out (5 total, 2 for one side and 3 for the second side).  Three surgeries and another week of being very uncomfortable with a stent in place.  The stent is out.  But, the Mr. has spent so much time laid up, unable to do very much at all and hopped up on pain meds, that when he went for a 20 minute walk the other day, he was ready for a nap by the time he was done.  We had to take a realistic look at our plans and understand that there was no way he was going to be ready for 6 mile hikes, in the mountains, with a 30 pound pack on his back in a week and a half.  So, very sadly, we decided that this was not the year for the backpacking trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We explained to our disappointed children, that sometimes life is like that.  And it is ok to be disappointed.  But, there is nothing you can do, but be flexible and make changes and move on.  We are going to take a camping trip instead, with some day hikes and s'mores.  And Jack Jack will be able to come with us.  And we will still have fun and our backpacks will be ready for us the next summer.  But, we are also going to be spending some time with the Mouse at Disneyland for two days, so I am sure that all of us will somehow survive this small disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we are here.  And soon we will be waaayyy over there.  And it will be good.  Or it might not be.  Because sometimes life is like that.  But, I like to think that even when you can't read the map, and you feel a little lost (or a lot lost), that if you just keep moving forward, you will get &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;somewhere&lt;/span&gt;.  And "Somewhere" might not be where you expected, but it is still your "Here."  And your journey to Here, might just be the thing that makes you stronger and more appreciative of the people who are on the road with you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-1028602576084825995?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/1028602576084825995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=1028602576084825995&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/1028602576084825995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/1028602576084825995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/07/you-are-here.html' title='You Are Here'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkytP98nJhI/AAAAAAAAHcI/fEhHBhWVguY/s72-c/DSC_0770.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-8214297916439370191</id><published>2009-06-30T11:53:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T12:12:06.194-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='websites'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='products'/><title type='text'>You Will LOVE Alice</title><content type='html'>OK, I am sooo over the top excited about this.  It might be a little bit wrong to be this excited about the delivery of household goods. But, I am.  And I am not apologizing either.  But, if you go to &lt;a href="http://www.alice.com/referral/64D63A8"&gt;Alice.com&lt;/a&gt; you will totally see what I mean.  My sister-in-law and I were just gushing over this together.  Our excitement was completely overwhelming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.alice.com/referral/64D63A8"&gt;Alice.com&lt;/a&gt; is a website the promises the free delivery of household goods.  It saves all of your favorites and you can even pick how often Alice should remind you to reorder items, like toilet paper.  Amazingly enough, the very same day that I heard about this site, we were down to one roll of toilet paper, for 4 bathrooms.  It gets a little old trying to guess which bathroom actually has the paper in it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the afternoon adding all my favorite products.  I even put in some of the ones I was sure Alice wouldn't have, like Method, but it did!  There might have been only one product we use, that they didn't have yet.  But, I put in a request for them to add Burts Bees, and hopefully, soon I will see that there too.  But, EVERYTHING else was there.  And CHEAPER than my local store.  With FREE SHIPPING!  I don't know the last time I have been this excited about anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I placed my first order yesterday afternoon, and I already got a shipment email this morning.  I am so very excited about the possibility of having what I need and reminders on when to restock.  Sometimes, when I know I need something, it could still take me days to find time to get to the store.  But, I always have time to open my front door to find packages that make my life easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;iframe src="http://alice.com/badges/alice_badge_6?ref=64D63A8" style="height: 250px; width: 300px;" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="0"&gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;      &lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;***********disclaimer....I am not being paid for this post.  I really, really am this excited.  But, if you sign up through one of my links, I do get some cash back.  And you can too, if you sign up and invite your friends.***********************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-8214297916439370191?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/8214297916439370191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=8214297916439370191&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/8214297916439370191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/8214297916439370191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-will-love-alice.html' title='You Will LOVE Alice'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-7936672410083802802</id><published>2009-06-28T08:09:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T08:28:30.476-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jack jack attack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenthood'/><title type='text'>See This Face?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkdrsRmWU1I/AAAAAAAAHaI/nkse-uc1Zaw/s1600-h/Conner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 349px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkdrsRmWU1I/AAAAAAAAHaI/nkse-uc1Zaw/s400/Conner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352365090535789394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;See this face?  This sweet innocent laughing face? This face that gives me kisses and tells me that he loves me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Behind that smile, this face is thinking up ways to get himself in trouble.  Big trouble.  We already know about the &lt;a href="http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/giving-mom-heart-attack.html"&gt;concussion&lt;/a&gt;, which really wasn't his fault, but he &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; running away from his big brother after tormenting him in some way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, just a week later, he left the room I was in and was quiet for just a little too long.  When I found him, he was in the kitchen, mixing up a concoction in my coffee maker, of coffee grounds, soap, applesauce, sugar AND two bottles of laxatives that were on a REALLY high shelf and he would have had to work REALLY hard to get.  Luckily, he had no desire to taste the coffee.  But, I was a little worried that if I had to take him back to the ER, CPS might get a phone call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then...yesterday.  I was taking a shower, the Mr. was in the house somewhere, and during my shower I started to hear some thumping noises.  So, as soon as I was done, wrapped in a towel and still wet, I went to check it out.  Turns out that same sweet face had climbed all the way to the top of my closet and found my nail polish, that isn't even visible from the ground.  He would have had to remember that it was there from watching me put it there.  He was in a bathroom trying to wash the nail polish off of his arms and legs.  In my room, there was nail polish on the carpet, nail polish on the door frame, nail polish on the wall of my closet.  Nail polish remover only worked on Jack Jack and the door frame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is going on here?  Is he bored?  Is he exploring his climbing abilities?  I don't know, but I do know, that you can't think of everything that a kid with spider powers could possibly get into.  And that face, that face will lull you into trusting and then you walk away and come back to total destruction.  There will be no more walking away because there is going to be a Jack Jack lock down around here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-7936672410083802802?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/7936672410083802802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=7936672410083802802&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/7936672410083802802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/7936672410083802802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/see-this-face.html' title='See This Face?'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkdrsRmWU1I/AAAAAAAAHaI/nkse-uc1Zaw/s72-c/Conner.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-6825756957942475811</id><published>2009-06-25T09:41:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T10:12:50.245-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jack jack attack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dash'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beach'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='you capture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer'/><title type='text'>Summertime</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This week's &lt;a href="http://www.ishouldbefoldinglaundry.com/2009/06/you-capture-summer.html"&gt;You Capture&lt;/a&gt; Summer theme was an easy one.  Especially since we just spent some time at the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkONSOJKxJI/AAAAAAAAGUM/Iz-EEkAk4mc/s1600-h/DSC_0677.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkONSOJKxJI/AAAAAAAAGUM/Iz-EEkAk4mc/s400/DSC_0677.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351276126419993746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It was a milestone day for Jack Jack, who has been afraid of the water for a few years.  Last summer he would barely let his toes touch the water.  But, it was so still and so calm, yesterday, that he was super brave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkONSQZs4jI/AAAAAAAAGUU/69efw6caI5g/s1600-h/DSC_0685.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkONSQZs4jI/AAAAAAAAGUU/69efw6caI5g/s400/DSC_0685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351276127026209330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He also flew through the air into "giant sand pits of doom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkONSlJcdFI/AAAAAAAAGUc/a5FugUZveSo/s1600-h/DSC_0694.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkONSlJcdFI/AAAAAAAAGUc/a5FugUZveSo/s400/DSC_0694.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351276132595168338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And plotted with his brother on how to build a "wave detector."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it was a successful summer morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-6825756957942475811?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/6825756957942475811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=6825756957942475811&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/6825756957942475811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/6825756957942475811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/summertime.html' title='Summertime'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkONSOJKxJI/AAAAAAAAGUM/Iz-EEkAk4mc/s72-c/DSC_0677.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-2613894916642285909</id><published>2009-06-24T08:14:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T08:41:18.005-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Running'/><title type='text'>Losing My Shorts</title><content type='html'>I don't talk about it on here very often, if at all.  And maybe it is because I feel a little bit embarrassed talking about it when others have had a much harder road than I.  My dad lost 50 pounds in the last year.  My sister-in-law has lost almost the same.  And I am so proud of them.  Me, I just needed to feel fit again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11 years ago, I had just finished up my last season as a collegiate track and cross country athlete.  I was fit, I was young and I ate what ever I wanted.  Sometimes, after 13 mile weekend runs, we would stop at MacDonalds and get TWO Egg McMuffins and TWO hash browns and dip the whole thing in syrup.  And, I never gained any weight.  Because, I was young and working out all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I got married and had another kid, but I was still coaching high school boys and running with them and the baby weight wasn't an issue.  And I still pretty much still ate what I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I had kid number three.  And I stopped coaching because three kids equals no extra time.  And I kept running on my own.  And I still loved it.  But, almost four years later, I was still hanging on to an extra 10 to 15 pounds.  It doesn't seem like a lot, and hence my embarrassment for even writing about it publicly, but it was enough to make me feel uncomfortable and not quite confident in my body.  Even training for and running marathons, seemed to only make a small dent in the numbers.  And then, when marathon training was over, the numbers would creep back up over the winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, almost three months ago, the Mr. decided that it was time for him to get back into shape and he convinced me that we needed to purchase the &lt;a href="http://www.beachbody.com/product/fitness_programs/p90x.do?code=GOOGLE_SEMB_P90X&amp;amp;gclid=COaHjZCDo5sCFRxNagodsiPvCQ&amp;amp;ef_id=1908:3:s_32545c9892e22acb52743badcf473685_3013518793:SkIr4dBbriYAADO4F7sAAAIA:20090624133633"&gt;P90X&lt;/a&gt; workout program.  It is made for people who are already pretty athletic, and it is tough.  But, I agreed.  Each day it works a different set of muscles and it includes a yoga day (which I had already started incorporating into my routine anyway) and weights and push ups and pull ups and 3 days a week of "Ab Ripper X."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the Mr. and I started the program.  I did not agree to give up running, though, and would still do 30 minutes of running either before or after the hour to an hour and a half of P90X.  This meant I was getting up REALLY early in the morning.  But, after the first week of feeling like I would not even be able to walk, I could tell that the program was working a lot of muscles that I had neglected when I was just running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not meant to be a P90X commercial.  But, I do have to say, that as I am nearing the last few weeks of the 90 days, I feel fitter than I have in a long long time, maybe ever.  Not only that, but I actually have muscle definition in my arms which I NEVER had.  I am now an addict and I am ok with the fact that some days I am working out almost 2 hours a day.  I do take rest days and because life has been so crazy lately, sometimes I take more rest days than I am supposed to.  We are eating a little healthier around here, but we have not made significant changes, other than adding more protien and lean meats trying to stay away from junk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have lost weight.  It is not the entire 10 to 15 pounds, it is probably only about 7.  But, here is the really cool thing: my shorts are falling off of me this summer.  I really need to get myself some new shorts, because every pair I put on, I can slide right off without even unbuttoning them.  The other day I was carrying Jack Jack across a big field with one hand and foldng chairs with the other and I had to stop and readjust before my shorts fell to my ankes.  I can actually see the changes in my arms, my legs and my abs.  And that is so cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a couple weeks, I will be done with my 90 days and we will spend some time in California.  And then, when I get back, I will be at it again.  And hopefully this time, the Mr. will not be having kidney stone issues and can complete the program with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-2613894916642285909?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/2613894916642285909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=2613894916642285909&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/2613894916642285909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/2613894916642285909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/losing-my-shorts.html' title='Losing My Shorts'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-5388623066725060613</id><published>2009-06-23T06:03:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T06:15:09.797-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dash'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baseball'/><title type='text'>Boys of Summer</title><content type='html'>Last night, my nine-year-old's baseball team, in the first round of the championship tournament, battled back from a 7 run deficit, to win in the last half of the last inning.  It was a tough game, made tougher by an ump who had a really tiny strike zone (this coming on the heels of a game in which the ump called a strike if it was anywhere near home plate).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkC4u0-B2CI/AAAAAAAAGFU/-O0uGAgiYYI/s1600-h/Right+Field.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 335px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkC4u0-B2CI/AAAAAAAAGFU/-O0uGAgiYYI/s400/Right+Field.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350479471948453922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was made even tougher by the fact that we went from shivering under blankets at every game, to dripping with sweat in 100% humidity and 88 degree temps with NO BREEZE and NO SHADE.  Well, at least the boys had a dugout to retreat to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both teams really wanted to win.  But, in the end, only one team moves on to round two.  But, how great is it, and how wonderful in remembering that these are just nine year old boys, that when the game was over, the losing team did not hang their heads.  Instead, they did the obligatory "good game" parade, then ran back to their dugout like banshees and ran back out with water balloons.  They turned them on themselves first, and then their opponents.  And EVERYONE left with smiles on their faces and just a little bit cooler.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-5388623066725060613?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/5388623066725060613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=5388623066725060613&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5388623066725060613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5388623066725060613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/boys-of-summer.html' title='Boys of Summer'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/SkC4u0-B2CI/AAAAAAAAGFU/-O0uGAgiYYI/s72-c/Right+Field.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-1189255926710156078</id><published>2009-06-20T06:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T07:29:15.056-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jack jack attack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pain'/><title type='text'>Giving Mom a Heart Attack</title><content type='html'>I was in the middle of a lot of things: folding laundry, sipping my coffee, playing facebook scrabble, checking emails...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Jack and Dash were teasing each other, as they always do, being louder than I would like, but not being mean, so I let it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Jack did &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; to Dash (I didn't see it, who knows what it was) and then ran away.  He didn't run far, but ran around the kitchen table and as he rounded the table, stepped one foot on a towel I had placed on our hardwood floor, by the back door, since it had been raining, and people had been taking the dog inside and outside that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stepped one foot on the towel and slipped, as he rounded that corner.  And he came down hard on the side of his head.  It was loud.  But, wood floors are loud.  The Mr. heard the impact in the basement.  And he also heard Jack Jack start crying, immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I was right there, and scooped him up and held him and started looking for bruises and bumps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a bruise popping up already, by the side of his right eye and got some ice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I held him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, he wouldn't calm down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I turned off the scrabble game and carried him downstairs to show Dad the owie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fifteen minutes later, he was calming down, but still very clingy and I noticed he was trying to go to sleep.  That made me nervous, so I tried waking him up and bribing him with his favorite things, thinking maybe he was just milking it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, as soon as he woke up, he started screaming about his head again and he was pointing to the top of his head, not near his eye, where I had been applying the ice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, he tried to go back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was enough, I packed him in the car and headed off for the ER, a 20 minute drive.  Less that 5 minutes into the drive, he started throwing up.  And I stopped, cleaned him up the best I could and then continued on, crying and trying not to panic, but kind of wishing I was in an ambulance that could cut through all the traffic that seemed to be moving extra slow, on 2 lane country roads, just for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to keep him awake and talking to me, but I was mostly getting a blank stare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brought him into the ER, in just his T shirt and underwear, after I removed his pukey shorts and they got him in right away.  He was almost limp, but would whimper when I tried to move him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor said his eyes looked ok, which was good, but he probably had a concussion.  They said I could let him sleep.  They said they would give him medicine to stop the vomiting.  They said they wanted us to stay for about an hour and observe him.  They said because his eyes were ok, they didn't want to do a CT scan.  They only do CT scans if they have to because of the worry of the radiation on children's development.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He threw up the oral medicine twice.  So they resorted to a shot in his leg.  He was asleep when they did it and made the saddest face ever, but then went back to sleep.  And I held him.  And I rubbed his back.  And I kissed him.  And I worried.  But, I was glad to be worrying in the ER and not at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After an hour of the meds in him, they tried to wake him up.  He woke up.  But was not happy.  And was very groggy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They wanted him to walk.  He did, a little, but then threw up again.  The doctor said "OK, that is our answer.  Let's get a CT scan."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they prepared to move us to the CT scan, Jack Jack woke up a little bit and started talking to me.  That was good.  The nurse told him about the "CAT" scan and that it would take pictures of the inside of his head and that there were not any cats in there.  Jack Jack said "but, I like cats."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We rode on the bed together.  I was a little afraid I would meet one of the nurses that know me so well from all my trips to surgery with the Mr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He liked the ride on the bed to radiology.  He liked the magic doors that looked like they opened without anyone pulling on them.  He was perfect in the "Cat scan."  And by the time we got our ride back to the ER, he was talking and alert and awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still said his head hurt.  He still wanted to lay down on me.  And I was ok with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The CT scan came back fine and we got to go home with instructions for rest and to watch him for 24 hours and to wake him up during the night.  We were told he might still be a little groggy for a day and that he might still throw up.  But, that he should be fine, but to come back if he got worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did throw up one more time in the car (thank goodness for the bags that the ER supplied us for the drive home).  But, after some cuddling with his dad (who still can't drive and is still in pain and was suffering with worry at home the whole time), and some chocolate milk, he said he was starving and he ate pizza with us.  And he went to bed a little early.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, he woke up nice and early this morning and is the same 'ol Jack Jack he always is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom's heart, however, will probably never be the same again.  It seems that every time, a family member suffers, a piece of mom's heart gets chipped off and it never gets put back together quite right.  And the memory of the scare and the worry will always be embedded.  But, I am so very thankful that this time, things are going to be alright.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-1189255926710156078?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/1189255926710156078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=1189255926710156078&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/1189255926710156078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/1189255926710156078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/giving-mom-heart-attack.html' title='Giving Mom a Heart Attack'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-5784856012206465534</id><published>2009-06-14T06:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T06:49:41.038-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Insanity'/><title type='text'>Oh, The Places I Have Been</title><content type='html'>Except for resorting to reading some of your posts on my iphone, and the odd tweet over on twitter, and a short post the other day, it seems  I have been maintaining internet silence.  I haven't even had the same gusto for my facebook scrabble addiction.  It is not for lack of want, but rather lack of time and when I do have time, I can't seem to gather my thoughts.  The following might just be a list of the why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;The places I have been when not being sucked into the internet:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Freezing at baseball games&lt;/span&gt;.  It is June, right?  So why was I huddled under TWO blankets, just yesterday, while it rained around me for three hours?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The hospital&lt;/span&gt;.  The Mr.'s 3rd kidney stone surgery did not produce the desired stone removal.  But, we did not really expect otherwise.  Surgery number four is scheduled for this Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The doctor's office&lt;/span&gt;.  Gotta love it when the three thousand medications that the Mr. is on, combine their various side effects and we have to make a trip the the doctor's to have him checked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The grocery store&lt;/span&gt;.  It seems people around here want to eat food.  It seems that they want to eat food very much.  It seems that when you buy $300 worth of groceries in one day, that they are able to eat through about $150 in less than a day.  Who knew that 12 pop tarts (that I bought as a special treat since it is summer) could be gone in a day and a half?  Who knew, that when the Mr. went to eat his beloved Chicken 'n a Biscuit crackers, just a day after said shopping, that there would be only twelve crackers left in the box?  Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Birthday Party planning&lt;/span&gt;.  Today is the combined birthday party for Jack Jack, who just turned 4 and dash, who will be 10 in July.  Cakes have been made.  Food preparation has begun.  Bounce house has been ordered.  But, I am still missing one birthday present.  Jack Jack doesn't really seem to "need" anything.  And I have until this afternoon to come up with one more present for him so it doesn't look like his own parents did not get him a gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Working&lt;/span&gt;.  Well, not REALLY working.  I had no work to do, yet went in to work for the last week anyway.  And it really was my &lt;a href="http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/so-long-and-thanks-for-all-fish.html"&gt;"last"&lt;/a&gt; week, since I will be moving to a new school in the fall. Luckily, I have some personal days and sick days, so I am not going in this next week, even though I was scheduled to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Driving Violet places&lt;/span&gt;.  Summer school, soccer practice, friend's houses...she is one busy young lady this summer.  Almost makes me wish she could drive herself...almost...but not quite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Haircuts&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the bank&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Target&lt;/span&gt;, trying to squeeze in a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;workout&lt;/span&gt; even though I heeded the call of some &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;chili cheese dogs&lt;/span&gt; and then tried to workout a mere three hours later.  Believe me when I tell you that is a bad, bad idea.  Your intestines and your bathroom will thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Watching movies&lt;/span&gt;.  Since the Mr. is laid up again, we have put our Netflix account to good use.  &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0352248/"&gt;Cindarella Man&lt;/a&gt; was awesome.  &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0887883/"&gt;Burn After Reading&lt;/a&gt; was not very awesome at all.  And then we purchased &lt;a href="http://www.schindlerslist.com/"&gt;Schindler's List&lt;/a&gt; and shared the experience with Violet last night.  And we all remembered why sometimes movies are much more important than just empty entertainment.  Some stories need to be told and remembered and learned from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I am very lucky, the coming week will include a trip to the beach, another trip to the hospital, a trip to my new place of employment, and maybe...some more movies.  But, I am thinking that it will not contain any more chili cheese dogs.  At least not this week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-5784856012206465534?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/5784856012206465534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=5784856012206465534&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5784856012206465534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5784856012206465534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/oh-places-i-have-been.html' title='Oh, The Places I Have Been'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-7510231768924547205</id><published>2009-06-12T15:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T15:39:10.395-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='changes'/><title type='text'>So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish</title><content type='html'>My geek friends and family should get the quote that I stole for the title of this post.  But, in many ways it is the best possible title for this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was my last day at my current job.  Our school corporation had adopted the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FISH%21_Philosophy"&gt;Fish Philosophy&lt;/a&gt;, before I even came on board.  And even though we sometimes scoffed at the Fish sayings, or the Fish shirts, or the traveling Fish trophy, the people that I worked closest with worked whole-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;heartedly&lt;/span&gt; at the four principals of the Fish Philosophy without even trying:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Play&lt;br /&gt;2. Make Their Day&lt;br /&gt;3. Be There&lt;br /&gt;4. Choose Your Attitude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did a lot of playing.  Education and middle &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;schooler's&lt;/span&gt; mental health issues can often be a serious business, but there was also a lot of laughing and playing and shooting rubber bands and squirt guns going on.  There were my regular lunch friends, and I will miss sharing stories and laughs with them.  There were the teachers that I became close to that I will miss having drop in my office to just hang out for a while.  I will miss hearing about their families.  I will miss that sometimes the attitude we chose was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sarcasm&lt;/span&gt;, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;cynicism&lt;/span&gt;, but in the end, we really did want to work with kids, and that is why we were there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, it is time to move on.  And it will be good.  And for now, I leave this chapter behind and look forward to enjoying my family and my summer.  So, "So, long and thanks for all the fish!"  But, I have new fish to fry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-7510231768924547205?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/7510231768924547205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=7510231768924547205&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/7510231768924547205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/7510231768924547205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/so-long-and-thanks-for-all-fish.html' title='So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-5813179323178945942</id><published>2009-06-10T08:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T08:34:02.878-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GNMParents'/><title type='text'>Sharing</title><content type='html'>My kids like to share… when they want to.  Just ignore the “Keep Out” signs on their doors and the lockable safe in my nine-year-old’s closet. &lt;p&gt;They share their germs, without a problem, with everyone, including me.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;My youngest still shares lots of kisses.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;They share LOTS of stories.  Around the dinner table the sharing can be overwhelming.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;They also share laughs.  Burps and other noises get loud laughs from the boys, and eye rolling from Violet.  But, just mention that mom had to “cut the cheese” to make the dinner, and the laugh sharing might just turn into a riot.  &lt;a href="http://gnmparents.com/sharing/"&gt;Keep Reading Here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-5813179323178945942?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/5813179323178945942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=5813179323178945942&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5813179323178945942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5813179323178945942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/sharing.html' title='Sharing'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-4056346113192142532</id><published>2009-06-09T08:48:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T09:20:31.944-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jack jack attack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthdays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Funnies'/><title type='text'>My Almost Four-Year-Old</title><content type='html'>Jack Jack will turn four tomorrow.  He is still my little guy who likes to cuddle with me lets me squish him with my kisses on his cheeks.  But, he is becoming more and more a big kid, a little bit at a time.  He is a quirky little kid who, even when driving us crazy (as four year olds can do) makes us laugh almost every day with his energy and his laughter and the the things that he says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, he was running in circles, as we tried to make him eat dinner, because he saw that his friend was playing outside and if he didn't get out there soon he was going to miss the "fun-dum."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He accidentally hit himself in the head with a book and said "Sorry brain!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He decided that it is OK to wear shoes other than his crocs and rain boots, but he wants to also wear long colorful socks...and a tie... Here is his Sunday church attire, this past Sunday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Si5rRlkETtI/AAAAAAAAFU8/CBOYV9kBCPg/s1600-h/socks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Si5rRlkETtI/AAAAAAAAFU8/CBOYV9kBCPg/s400/socks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345327757620694738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is full of energy and action.  Why walk when you can leap from the couch and make it half way across the living room?  He likes to be in the thick of whatever family action is going on and gives it right back to his older brother and sister when they are "ignoying him."  He is already an athlete and will spend an afternoon trying out one sport or another in the yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Si5rR5QfpnI/AAAAAAAAFVM/kUQTsmKdhtQ/s1600-h/snowboard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Si5rR5QfpnI/AAAAAAAAFVM/kUQTsmKdhtQ/s400/snowboard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345327762907309682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Jack is bright.  I think ALL my kids are the smartest kids in the whole world (of course, and your kids are too).  But, Jack Jack picks up things just like that.  He watches what his brother draws and draws almost the exact same picture.  He is sounding out words, and loves to write the words that he knows.  The other night we went to a restaurant with an old tavern sign on the wall.  Jack Jack spent some time sounding out the word "tavern" and then wrote it on his place mat, along with his name and said "Look!  Jack Jack's Tavern!"  As Violet pointed out, at least he wasn't also writing the words "beer" and "liquor" that were also on the sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Si5rR05GZuI/AAAAAAAAFVE/Df9JXdDkKCY/s1600-h/Tavern.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Si5rR05GZuI/AAAAAAAAFVE/Df9JXdDkKCY/s400/Tavern.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345327761735444194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is growing up fast, but as he told me last night "I want to get bigger and get rid of my sippy cups, but I don't ever want to get rid of my Boos (Blankies)."  Sounds like a plan to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-4056346113192142532?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/4056346113192142532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=4056346113192142532&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/4056346113192142532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/4056346113192142532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-almost-four-year-old.html' title='My Almost Four-Year-Old'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Si5rRlkETtI/AAAAAAAAFU8/CBOYV9kBCPg/s72-c/socks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-1940779380616640007</id><published>2009-06-05T11:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T11:16:02.297-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Moving On</title><content type='html'>Wednesday, I received confirmation that my hire within a new school corporation was approved by the school board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, just moments ago, I turned in my letter of resignation for my current job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have known this change is coming.  I think it will be a good change.  It is a weight lifted off my shoulders.  But, it is still a change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been slowly cleaning out my office for weeks now, but yesterday, yesterday I took down all the photos.  I took down the picture of Jack Jack when he was just a newborn.  I took down the picture of Violet when she still had braces on her teeth.  I took down the picture of Dash in his tuxedo, from my brother and sister-in-law's wedding.   I took down the picture of my grandpa, who is going into heart surgery next week, holding Jack Jack with his blankies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took down the drawings that Dash has made me over the years: the pirate flag, the watercolor, the Calvin and Hobbes masterpiece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took down my postcard collection from all the places my family traveled and thought about me and sent me a postcard, making me with I could travel to all those places too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are just pictures.  They are just replicas.  And I have more of these.  But the act of taking them down reminded me of all that has happened in the last five years that I have been working here.  And in the whole scope of life, five years is not very long.  But, in the realm of parenthood and family, five years contains a lot of changes.  And I was surprisingly melancholy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This office will not feel like mine for much longer. I will move on to a different office in a different town and I will put up new pictures, and probably some of the old.  And the new office will be a part of my daily existence but, it will not define me, just like my office does not define me now.  What defines me, can be found in the faces of those photographs.  And those faces will go with me anywhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-1940779380616640007?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/1940779380616640007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=1940779380616640007&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/1940779380616640007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/1940779380616640007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/moving-on.html' title='Moving On'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-531827022181109464</id><published>2009-06-02T08:03:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T09:57:01.986-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Whining'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer'/><title type='text'>Summer???</title><content type='html'>We are carefully, but not quietly, creeping towards summer vacation.  Unfortunately the end of school does not mean the end of the chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baseball will continue.  Violet will begin summer school to get her first high school credit taken care of.  I will still be working for another couple weeks.  The Mr. will have surgery, and probably another surgery.  Violet will start summer soccer practices in preparation for trying out for the high school team.  Jack Jack will turn 4 years old and we need to plan a birthday party for him and Dash (who's birthday is in July, but we just do one party to cut down on the chaos just a little teeny tiny bit).  There are graduation party invites. There is a camping trip and a trip to California and a backpacking trip while we are in California to plan for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't forget that at some point in there, we just might want to relax and enjoy the summer.  Umm...ok, maybe not.  A lot of this stuff IS fun (well maybe not the surgery part or the fact that Mr. Incredible could be laid up the greater part of the first month of the summer).  But, it IS a lot of stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just creating a calendar for my mother-in-law, so she can see where and what we will be doing and where we can use her help for June.  Now, I am overwhelmed.  I thought the calendar was supposed to help with that.  But, I just realized that almost every moment of my summer is already planned and I will be back to work before I know it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-531827022181109464?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/531827022181109464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=531827022181109464&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/531827022181109464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/531827022181109464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/06/summer.html' title='Summer???'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-5194216598514354078</id><published>2009-05-28T11:35:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T11:42:31.703-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='you capture'/><title type='text'>Family Photo</title><content type='html'>Trying to get my family all in the same place at the same time is a pretty tough task right now.  But, since the &lt;a href="http://www.ishouldbefoldinglaundry.com/2009/05/you-capture-family.html"&gt;You Capture&lt;/a&gt; theme of the week was "Family" I tried to get a representative photo for each member of our household.  It kinda works...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Sh6-EOnFL3I/AAAAAAAAFIw/ns4Of9a7BBs/s1600-h/family1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Sh6-EOnFL3I/AAAAAAAAFIw/ns4Of9a7BBs/s400/family1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340915187958755186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-5194216598514354078?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/5194216598514354078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=5194216598514354078&amp;isPopup=true' title='25 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5194216598514354078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5194216598514354078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/05/family-photo.html' title='Family Photo'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Sh6-EOnFL3I/AAAAAAAAFIw/ns4Of9a7BBs/s72-c/family1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>25</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-4611309013457685317</id><published>2009-05-27T07:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T07:22:49.369-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenthood'/><title type='text'>Boys Will Be Boys</title><content type='html'>My first child is a girl.  My next two are boys.  And early on in my daughter’s life, I figured out that any notion that I might have retained from my sociology degree that boys and girls would act the same if treated the same, flew right out the window. &lt;p&gt;I was a tomboy, who never carried a purse and wore minimal makeup.  Yet my daughter turned every bag she could find into a “purse” to carry all of her “make-up” and princess gear and jewelry.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I told myself that I would never let my boys have toy guns or weapons in the house.  Yet my middle child, my first son would turn carrots into guns and shoot us at the dinner table.  &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://gnmparents.com/boys-will-be-boys/"&gt;Read the Rest Here&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-4611309013457685317?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/4611309013457685317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=4611309013457685317&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/4611309013457685317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/4611309013457685317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/05/boys-will-be-boys.html' title='Boys Will Be Boys'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-5273361776543255259</id><published>2009-05-25T09:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T10:41:50.917-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jack jack attack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Education'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Growing up'/><title type='text'>Last Preschool Day of the Year</title><content type='html'>Summer IS coming.  I can feel it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One family member is even already done with school for the year. I went to his last day celebration where we went on a treasure hunt and made our own ice cream and looked for toads. It is hard to believe that in just a few weeks Jack Jack will be four years old. Year one of preschool complete. Where has my baby gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Shqy3xbqRdI/AAAAAAAAFFE/sXJR2H1s0UE/s1600-h/DSC_0399.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Shqy3xbqRdI/AAAAAAAAFFE/sXJR2H1s0UE/s400/DSC_0399.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339776979433047506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Shqy3lIf_qI/AAAAAAAAFE8/GR_3-g8cAOM/s1600-h/DSC_0395.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Shqy3lIf_qI/AAAAAAAAFE8/GR_3-g8cAOM/s400/DSC_0395.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339776976131456674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And doesn't his school look like an awesome place?  I wish he could go there forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-5273361776543255259?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/5273361776543255259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=5273361776543255259&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5273361776543255259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5273361776543255259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/05/last-preschool-day-of-year.html' title='Last Preschool Day of the Year'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Shqy3xbqRdI/AAAAAAAAFFE/sXJR2H1s0UE/s72-c/DSC_0399.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-6620691138040168945</id><published>2009-05-21T08:08:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T08:53:38.086-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jack jack attack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep'/><title type='text'>Dream, Dream, Dream</title><content type='html'>My little guy, has always been the best sleeper in the house.  He is not a perfect sleeper.  But, he falls asleep within minutes, and most nights, stays asleep until the sun comes up (which is unfortunately before 5 am right now, good thing for blinds and heavy curtains).  But, he does, on occasion have nightmares.  And because, my kids are all super verbal, we have heard about Jack Jack's dreams for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple years ago, he had a dream about a pig.  And the pig blocked the stairs and would not let Jack Jack pass, blowing on Jack Jack's belly, every time he tried to get by.  Because of this dream, to this day, Jack Jack does not like pigs.  In fact, when I took him to a local farm and he saw the pig, he was immediately ready to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/ShVW6CA91eI/AAAAAAAAE3c/LyoCwT9uMjo/s1600-h/sleep.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/ShVW6CA91eI/AAAAAAAAE3c/LyoCwT9uMjo/s400/sleep.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338268488290915810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple nights ago, Jack Jack woke up in the middle of the night and would not go back to sleep.   This is usual for him, so I tried laying with him, and he still wouldn't go back to sleep and every time I tried sneaking back to my room he would find me.  I admit, that I got a little frustrated and finally just consented to fall asleep in his room so that we could both get some sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the morning, he told me that he had a bad dream about "an octopus and creepy sea creatures."  I had to laugh that he used the words "creepy sea creatures" in his little voice.  He told me all about his dream and then "Mommy, I have to tell you sorry for something.  I am sorry for waking you up during the night."  And how can you be mad, even with your lack of sleep, when your little guy apologizes to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; because of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt; bad dream.  He does have me wrapped around his little fingers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-6620691138040168945?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/6620691138040168945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=6620691138040168945&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/6620691138040168945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/6620691138040168945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/05/dream-dream-dream.html' title='Dream, Dream, Dream'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/ShVW6CA91eI/AAAAAAAAE3c/LyoCwT9uMjo/s72-c/sleep.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-5098423198122985587</id><published>2009-05-17T13:49:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T14:21:04.178-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jack jack attack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><title type='text'>Let It Shine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/ShBhR-b4IsI/AAAAAAAAEzs/rmDeWckZ_QY/s1600-h/DSC_0390.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/ShBhR-b4IsI/AAAAAAAAEzs/rmDeWckZ_QY/s400/DSC_0390.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336872519879631554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We didn't catch anything.  And today is cold enough for pants and sweatshirts again.  But, those few warm sunny days were wonderful.  I can use all the sun I can get.  Growing up in Southern California I took the sun for granted.  Here, this time of year, my body and soul are craving warmth and sunshine.  Hopefully we will get both for Memorial Day weekend and I can get some plants picked out and planted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a rough month, physically and emotionally.  And there is more to come.  But, it seems, that when the sun is warming up your arms and legs that things just might be bearable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/ShBhRgT6kVI/AAAAAAAAEzk/jJBuNhFL9S8/s1600-h/DSC_0384.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/ShBhRgT6kVI/AAAAAAAAEzk/jJBuNhFL9S8/s400/DSC_0384.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336872511793172818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And maybe, Jack Jack will catch himself a fish, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-5098423198122985587?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/5098423198122985587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=5098423198122985587&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5098423198122985587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/5098423198122985587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/05/let-it-shine.html' title='Let It Shine'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/ShBhR-b4IsI/AAAAAAAAEzs/rmDeWckZ_QY/s72-c/DSC_0390.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-6548366585860798745</id><published>2009-05-13T20:44:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T00:02:05.746-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='you capture'/><title type='text'>Color Me Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Sgt32jPADII/AAAAAAAAExg/FYxpj0s7-sU/s1600-h/photo%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Sgt32jPADII/AAAAAAAAExg/FYxpj0s7-sU/s400/photo%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335489962605284482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Due to a variety of life circumstances, I didn't get photos taken and/or uploaded the last three weeks.  I think I have found a balance.  And I have a few pictures, so, I am back in action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These two pictures were taken on what was supposed to be a sick day to take Jack Jack to the doctor.  But, he woke up, fever free and ready to go.  So, we took advantage of the sunshine and hung out on the deck for a while.  Somehow...I didn't get a picture of my little painter, and that makes me a little sad.  But, just imagine the cute little, almost four-year-old, that helped me watercolor on the deck.  And oh...it turns out that Crayola water color paints don't wash off wood quite as easily and I thought it would so, you might not want to try this at home...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Sgt32sDiFNI/AAAAAAAAExo/SRXj_tOKidw/s1600-h/photo%283%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Sgt32sDiFNI/AAAAAAAAExo/SRXj_tOKidw/s400/photo%283%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335489964973102290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ishouldbefoldinglaundry.com/2009/05/you-capture-colors.html"&gt;See more You Capture colors here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-6548366585860798745?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/6548366585860798745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=6548366585860798745&amp;isPopup=true' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/6548366585860798745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/6548366585860798745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/05/color-me-back.html' title='Color Me Back'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HnS1JgXFGuk/Sgt32jPADII/AAAAAAAAExg/FYxpj0s7-sU/s72-c/photo%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-3201962468140675822</id><published>2009-05-13T10:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T13:17:42.473-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life Questions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GNMParents'/><title type='text'>Playing Fair</title><content type='html'>With three children, at very different developmental stages, it is very difficult to “play fair” when it comes to spending time with them, or being at their events.  With an almost four-year-old, an almost ten-year-old, and a fourteen-year-old, their needs, their interests, and their activities are very different and sometimes, when it comes to parental attention, it is hard to tell what is fair and what is not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My youngest NEEDS lots of attention.  He needs lots of physical contact.  He needs lots of supervision.  He doesn’t have too many activities, yet, and I am trying to keep it that way for a little while longer.  But, he is in a cooperative preschool and either myself or my husband or a grandparent is at his school once a month.  And, because he is the youngest, he gets dragged to many of his sibling’s activities, sometimes, meaning that we are huddled under a blanket for hours of quality time, at the baseball field.  And, so, of the three kids, he gets the majority of parental attention on our house, because that is what he needs.  &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://gnmparents.com/playing-fair/"&gt;Keep reading here....&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-3201962468140675822?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/3201962468140675822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=3201962468140675822&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/3201962468140675822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/3201962468140675822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/05/playing-fair.html' title='Playing Fair'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-2371027219766626072</id><published>2009-05-08T12:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T14:30:51.298-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blessings'/><title type='text'>Grace In Small Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;After reading this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.slouchingmom.com/2009/05/friday-grace-in-small-things.html"&gt;post&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I realized that I needed some grace for myself.  It will be good for me and maybe not even as difficult as eating all my peas.  So here I go:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a job.  A job that pays for all of our medical expenses almost 100%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grass is green.  The trees are green and red and pink and white with the blossoms of spring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a day off on Wednesday because I thought I was going to need to take Jack Jack to the doctor.  He woke up fever free and ready to play and we got to spend the afternoon outside, in the sun, painting with water colors on the deck, playing ball, blowing bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband's warm sleeping body is always there at night to curl up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends that email me to make sure that I really am ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Planning for our backpacking trip this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching Dash's pure joy after hitting a bases loaded double at his baseball game.  And then, watching him peek out of the dugout and wave to us with that same grin still on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night, The Mr. sat on the couch, helping an 8th grader with her Algebra, and checking over a 3rd grader's geometry, while Jack Jack and I cuddled, on the floor, by the couch, feeling the fresh spring breezes blow through the open windows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told Violet that I would create a training plan for her to help in her quest to make the high school soccer team her reaction was real gratitude and excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realizing that Dash really is grateful for what we do for him.  "Thanks for playing catch with me Dad."  "I LOVE Saturday morning breakfasts.  Thanks for the french toast mom."  "This is the best day EVER."  Are all things I have heard come out of his mouth in the last few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arms of an almost 4 year old wrapped tight, around my neck.  Squeezing.  Hugging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I can't get on the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://graceinsmallthings.ning.com/"&gt;Grace in small things ning site&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, here at work to link my post, but you can go check it out, yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-2371027219766626072?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/2371027219766626072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=2371027219766626072&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/2371027219766626072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/2371027219766626072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/05/grace-in-small-things.html' title='Grace In Small Things'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33139994.post-4455746013226553329</id><published>2009-05-06T07:01:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T07:24:28.591-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='germs'/><title type='text'>Hit Me Baby, One More Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What a terrible title...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After weeks of dealing with the husband and the never ending kidney stone saga (one stone out, two more to go), now we have a cool virus running around our house.  First Violet then Jack Jack, now me...It seems to just be a really bad cold, but Jack Jack ran a fever yesterday and I am taking him to the doctor today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how do I always end up being home on the day my house is getting cleaned?  I LOVE having my house cleaned.  It is worth every penny I spend on it.  But, I always feel so lazy when I am home and someone else is doing the cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, only one person in my house is actually healthy, that is Dash.  And that is a good thing, because he is the one, most like my husband who will get everything ten times worse than anyone else.  So, hopefully we can keep him in a little bubble so he won't get sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents are visiting, and lucky for them, they can go back to their own house at night and decontaminate themselves.  But, I was joking with them, although it is not really a joke, that every time they come, we send them home sick.  I didn't think we were sick THAT often.  But, this has been a germ-fest of a year.  Hopefully some years are just like that and hopefully this year is almost over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33139994-4455746013226553329?l=thatslifev2.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/feeds/4455746013226553329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33139994&amp;postID=4455746013226553329&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/4455746013226553329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33139994/posts/default/4455746013226553329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thatslifev2.blogspot.com/2009/05/hit-me-baby-one-more-time.html' title='Hit Me Baby, One More Time'/><author><name>InTheFastLane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09691830067979224059</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17448145524444456551'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry></feed>