<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:26:48.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of Spilt Milk</title><subtitle type='html'>my loves, my chaos, my life</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-613895219615715316</id><published>2010-06-12T13:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T13:41:52.190-04:00</updated><title type='text'>goodbye for now</title><content type='html'>With speaking gigs, events, my kiddos and everything else I just can't fit time in for my personal blog :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep it up in case one day I have time for it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're interested here is the link to my professional blog (mostly about marketing) &lt;a href="http://stillisms.com/"&gt;http://stillisms.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-613895219615715316?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/613895219615715316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=613895219615715316&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/613895219615715316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/613895219615715316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/06/goodbye-for-now.html' title='goodbye for now'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-2199169404325044217</id><published>2010-04-17T21:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T21:03:46.661-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Zoooooom</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S8pZl0LrzzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/c6hjdEwLMXk/s1600/stefan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S8pZl0LrzzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/c6hjdEwLMXk/s320/stefan.jpg" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The hubs taught me how to ride a motorcycle today. Like everything I do, I now believe I will be the best in the world at it and am already planning out my race season for next year (if you don't know, hubs is a racer see pic on the left, yep ladies, hawt, sometimes its the only thing that saves him... totally kidding). Lyric was especially impressed (back to my skillz). She's having a sleepover at Grandma's tonight&amp;nbsp;and I called to tell her the exciting news, that yes, she did in fact have a professional racer for a mom. She responded by telling me about the spaghetti dinner she enjoyed, of which she made a happy plate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stefan and I&amp;nbsp;(along with Marc)&amp;nbsp;are celebrating finding my hidden talent by enjoying some vanilla stols and diets.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-2199169404325044217?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2199169404325044217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=2199169404325044217&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/2199169404325044217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/2199169404325044217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/04/zoooooom.html' title='Zoooooom'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S8pZl0LrzzI/AAAAAAAAAG4/c6hjdEwLMXk/s72-c/stefan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-522143220645738028</id><published>2010-04-16T16:36:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T16:37:09.728-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ZOMG I have a blog!?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S8jKJ-8kwAI/AAAAAAAAAGw/xRmDofP71fA/s1600/lucy.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S8jKJ-8kwAI/AAAAAAAAAGw/xRmDofP71fA/s200/lucy.bmp" width="197" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah better get on that.&amp;nbsp; Lots of things just swimming around in my lil head.. I'll be back soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-522143220645738028?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/522143220645738028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=522143220645738028&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/522143220645738028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/522143220645738028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/04/zomg-i-have-blog.html' title='ZOMG I have a blog!?'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S8jKJ-8kwAI/AAAAAAAAAGw/xRmDofP71fA/s72-c/lucy.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-967971982689092038</id><published>2010-03-25T14:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T14:46:47.018-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing stronger than a stubborn old man!</title><content type='html'>Great news on my Grandpa. They took him off life support and he decided he wanted to prove modern medicine and his doctors wrong. He woke up and said he was hungry. His sepsis is completely gone and he is going to be released from ICU soon. It just shows that we may be in a bit more control than we think. My Grandpa said he wasn't ready to die, and that's good, because I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to him just yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-967971982689092038?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/967971982689092038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=967971982689092038&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/967971982689092038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/967971982689092038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/03/nothing-stronger-than-stubborn-old-man.html' title='Nothing stronger than a stubborn old man!'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-2677541056073027111</id><published>2010-03-20T09:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T09:56:40.154-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Saying goodbye to grandpa</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S6TUDg6uUsI/AAAAAAAAAGo/glpFovNngH8/s1600-h/marie+and+grandpa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S6TUDg6uUsI/AAAAAAAAAGo/glpFovNngH8/s320/marie+and+grandpa.jpg" vt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I went to Boston yesterday to say goodbye to my grandpa. He was put on life support and not expected to make it through the weekend. My uncle called to say that he went from totally conscious believing the pneumonia he had battled for the last year had finally cleared, to quickly deteriorating in two hours. Finally in a coma. My family began making travel arrangements to say our final goodbyes, those of us from out of town hoping that somehow he could hear us, understand us and know that we were here to help him make the journey. My uncle was over in Afghanistan; once he arrives the decision will be made on whether or not to continue the support. As I said my goodbyes I couldn’t help but feel regret, all of the weekends I could have visited but didn’t, all of the phone calls I could have made but chose not to, a simple email how hard could that be? We write a hundred emails for work, what does it take to write one, even just three special words I love you, or I miss you. I know my grandpa wouldn’t want my memory of him to be filled with regret, so instead I will remember him fondly, all of the good times I had with him, the visits I did make. I am happy that he is finally in heaven with my grandma, watching over my girls for me. I will miss him dearly but I know he knows that. Grandpa I love you XO.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-2677541056073027111?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2677541056073027111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=2677541056073027111&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/2677541056073027111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/2677541056073027111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/03/saying-goodbye-to-grandpa.html' title='Saying goodbye to grandpa'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S6TUDg6uUsI/AAAAAAAAAGo/glpFovNngH8/s72-c/marie+and+grandpa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-819809751720911613</id><published>2010-03-20T09:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T09:52:11.877-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging from Delta flight 6560</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S6TS-sjTP2I/AAAAAAAAAGg/emsC2BW1NvY/s1600-h/flight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="148" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S6TS-sjTP2I/AAAAAAAAAGg/emsC2BW1NvY/s200/flight.jpg" vt="true" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I often find myself wondering while traveling, especially on planes, is this how you act all of the time or do you just become supremely annoying while on vacation? It seems as if there is only a small population of Americans who understand and abide by proper travel etiquette. This behavior, or lack thereof, I find is most evident in airports and while on planes. It all begins in the security line. There are some people who can handle the pressure of this event and some who fail miserably. I never understood the difficulty in it, but a large majority will fumble awkwardly with their belongings while simultaneously trying to remove their shoes forgetting of course to remove their liquids and gels from their oversized, overstuffed carry on. I guess it just takes practice and proper packing both of which I have down, if the security line were an Olympic event, I’d be a gold medalist. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next in the airport adventure is the gate. When I am patiently waiting at my gate it may look to the untrained eye like I am engrossed in my book and/or magazine, but I am not. I am carefully scanning my fellow passengers identifying who I believe to the best and worst seat mates. Who make the best seat mates? Business travelers and teenagers these two demographics are both apt to demonstrate impeccable in-flight etiquette. For example they generally have some sort of activity to occupy themselves with and they stay out of my personal bubble (and they expect the same courtesy from me). Now sometimes you will get tricked (which is what happened to me right as I type these words). I am on a flight from Boston to Atlanta (where I will catch my connection to Mississippi). I am in seat 11C, one row behind first class and an aisle. A good amount of time and effort with the gate agent went into this carefully selected seat and it is a good one (not an easy fete on a completely full flight). Well I thought I was in seat mate heaven, a business guy on the window a young guy watching his movie in the center. I was mistaken, center seat guy has spent the entire flight hysterically laughing at some unrecognizable movie, every time resulting in the entire row of seats shaking, beyond annoying. Even more annoying than the stinky food guy I sat next to on my flight up here. Now there is some mid-air excitement as the guy in front of me is receiving oxygen from the flight attendant. Time to put the computer away and inconspicuously eavesdrop. Happy travels!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-819809751720911613?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/819809751720911613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=819809751720911613&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/819809751720911613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/819809751720911613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/03/blogging-from-delta-flight-6560.html' title='Blogging from Delta flight 6560'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S6TS-sjTP2I/AAAAAAAAAGg/emsC2BW1NvY/s72-c/flight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-3280002340299854538</id><published>2010-03-13T23:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-13T23:24:46.718-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I own fat, I make fat work.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S5xj_77-MeI/AAAAAAAAAGY/-FO8SVE7Gw8/s1600-h/lolfatcat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S5xj_77-MeI/AAAAAAAAAGY/-FO8SVE7Gw8/s320/lolfatcat.jpg" vt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;As you all know my post-baby weight loss plan includes mentally willing the weight away and eating whatever the eff I feel like.&amp;nbsp; As you might guess, this method isn't exactly working, at least not with record breaking speed.&amp;nbsp; When I had Lyric five years ago I was a fabulous size two (ok fine, size four), I gained 20ish pounds during my pregnancy and was back to fighting weight four weeks after popping her out.&amp;nbsp; What did I do you ask.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Absolutely nothing.&amp;nbsp; I was younger and apparently back then&amp;nbsp;my metabolism was my friend.&amp;nbsp; Well flash forward five years, my metabolism has flipped on me, it is now my foe.&amp;nbsp; Pre-Brae I was size four (FINE size six), I gained 30 pounds and six weeks later am not even close to my fighting weight.&amp;nbsp; Granted, I didn't go into this at an ideal weight, but I'm not even at my acceptable&amp;nbsp;fat weight!&amp;nbsp; I went back to work last week and since a naked first impression wasn't the impression I was going for, I needed an entire new wardrobe.&amp;nbsp; I had to swallow my pride, suck it up and buy the size 10 pants (and a few 8s) *sad face*.&amp;nbsp; I drowned my sorrows by treating myself to two weekends of retail therapy and since I felt so terribly for myself, I really spoiled myself, because I can and because I deserve it!&amp;nbsp; I love my new fat girl wardrobe and it will now be my new excuse to avoid the gym.&amp;nbsp; If I lose the weight, I won't fit into my new&amp;nbsp;clothes; we can't have that now can we ;).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-3280002340299854538?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/3280002340299854538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=3280002340299854538&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/3280002340299854538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/3280002340299854538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-own-fat-i-make-fat-work.html' title='I own fat, I make fat work.'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S5xj_77-MeI/AAAAAAAAAGY/-FO8SVE7Gw8/s72-c/lolfatcat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-2722655501976185170</id><published>2010-03-09T09:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T09:58:15.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mmm feta</title><content type='html'>What you need: three fairly thick chicken breasts, 6 oz. of tomato basil feta cheese, butter, seasoned bread crumbs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pre-heat the oven for 350&lt;br /&gt;Cut the chicken in half (but not all the way, you want to create a "pouch")&lt;br /&gt;Lightly grease a 9X13 glass cooking dish&lt;br /&gt;Fill the middle of the chicken breasts with feta cheese and smoosh down and place in cooking dish&lt;br /&gt;Brush the chicken with the butter and cover with bread crumbs, then lightly spray with cooking spray&lt;br /&gt;Bake at 350 for 35 - 45 minutes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I served this with pasta salad and a regular salad (lettuce, feta cheese crumbles and croutons).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How it was received:&lt;br /&gt;Stefan made a happy plate and loved it. I thought it was really good. I think the next time I make it, I'm going to try to stuff the chicken with regular feta and add some salt and pepper. Lyric wasn't thrilled, but unless its ramen noodles or spaghetti she rarely is. She refused to even try the chicken and had a MAJOR melt down when we wouldn't let her have dessert. This morning on the way to school she asked me why I didn't feed her dinner last night, so I'm sure she is going to tell everyone who will listen how deprived she is and how we starve her. I kindly reminded her that I did feed her dinner but she chose to only eat the pasta salad and refused the rest, but I'm sure it fell on deaf ears. Tonight on the menu: meat loaf, roasted potatoes (my mom's recipe which NEVER taste as good as mom's) and bread.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-2722655501976185170?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/2722655501976185170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=2722655501976185170&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/2722655501976185170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/2722655501976185170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/03/mmm-feta.html' title='Mmm feta'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-4687673290814325015</id><published>2010-03-02T20:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T20:32:07.488-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SAHM no more</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I'm headed back into the workforce next week!!&amp;nbsp; I've accepted a position as Director of Marketing at MRIS.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't be more excited about&amp;nbsp;the work I will be doing, the company, and my new co-workers.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I spent my last four months at AOL taking a deep, hard look at the position I had ended up in, the new management team and their strategies/work style&amp;nbsp;and whether I was still happy and excited to come to work each day.&amp;nbsp;I came to the conclusion that it was time to explore other opportunities after Braelynn was born.&amp;nbsp; Well, we all know how that ended up, a month before my due date I was put on the list!&amp;nbsp; I have always been a firm believer of everything happens for a reason, and once again I have proven myself correct.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Now what this means for the girls and I over the next week is this: pure chaos!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was thinking that I still had 2-3 weeks to get all of my loose ends wrapped up.&amp;nbsp; I really didn't expect to&amp;nbsp;have an offer and start&amp;nbsp;date so quickly.&amp;nbsp; Now&amp;nbsp;we have one week to accomplish the following:&amp;nbsp;get Lyric registered for her new school, find Braelynn daycare (Lyric's school doesn't take infants), change my name, go to DMV&amp;nbsp;get new license, get Brae's hip ultrasound,&amp;nbsp;go to my 6 week doc check up, buy all new wardrobe because I still am not fitting into pre-prego clothes, and I'm sure I'm leaving off about a million other things!&amp;nbsp; But I'm a total workaholic and beyond ready to get out of this house and get started on building out my&amp;nbsp;strategy and&amp;nbsp;plan&amp;nbsp;for the new position!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-4687673290814325015?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4687673290814325015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=4687673290814325015&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/4687673290814325015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/4687673290814325015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/03/sahm-no-more.html' title='SAHM no more'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-5262934542516281939</id><published>2010-03-01T15:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T15:13:16.159-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hooked on funics</title><content type='html'>It would seem I go to McDonalds a lot seeing as how it is the scene of crime for many of my blog posts.&amp;nbsp;Since my weight loss plan is to mentally will the weight away, I think I may need to re-evaluate my food choices. Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to the subject of my blog. While visiting the McDonalds drive through this weekend I witnessed, first hand, a sad mutilation of our fine language in the form of a sign. If the picture is hard to see, here is what it says "Nex window please tanks" *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S4wdB1x1m2I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/jCYXIMWfgrI/s1600-h/nex+window+please.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S4wdB1x1m2I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/jCYXIMWfgrI/s320/nex+window+please.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-5262934542516281939?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/5262934542516281939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=5262934542516281939&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5262934542516281939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5262934542516281939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/03/hooked-on-funics.html' title='Hooked on funics'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S4wdB1x1m2I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/jCYXIMWfgrI/s72-c/nex+window+please.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-6882275548954128941</id><published>2010-03-01T14:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T14:52:50.422-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby updates: Sleepless nights and a doc apt.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S4wa3Ve2g8I/AAAAAAAAAGI/j3sTtMvHlCA/s1600-h/brae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S4wa3Ve2g8I/AAAAAAAAAGI/j3sTtMvHlCA/s320/brae.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Brae had her two week check up (well I slacked a little and she was actually four weeks old) but we eventually made it to the ped's office and everything checked out just fine.&amp;nbsp; She now weighs a whopping 6 lbs 13 oz and is 20 inches long.&amp;nbsp; When Lyric was born she was 6 lbs 15 oz and 19 1/4 inches long.&amp;nbsp; Which is interesting since Brae technically was due right around now.&amp;nbsp; When I have another baby I'm having a contest to guess the weight and length I am fairly certain, unless other participants read this, I have it in the bag!&amp;nbsp; We are getting there as far as sleep is concerned, on good nights I get about a four hour stretch.&amp;nbsp; I certainly am not going to complain about four hours,&amp;nbsp; I know what two/three hours feels like, and its not pretty!&amp;nbsp; Nights right now are still kind of a blur though, I often find myself falling asleep in the middle of feedings waking up to Braelynn on the bed next to me with the nipple poking her in the eye or half the bottle pouring out all over the bed.&amp;nbsp; But we are troopers and we are powering through it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-6882275548954128941?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/6882275548954128941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=6882275548954128941&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/6882275548954128941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/6882275548954128941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/03/baby-updates-sleepless-nights-and-doc.html' title='Baby updates: Sleepless nights and a doc apt.'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S4wa3Ve2g8I/AAAAAAAAAGI/j3sTtMvHlCA/s72-c/brae.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-7651162207280774011</id><published>2010-02-18T16:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T16:44:37.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My kid is hilarious</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S320Ajpar3I/AAAAAAAAAFo/OKIyzrsVOKw/s1600-h/lyric.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S320Ajpar3I/AAAAAAAAAFo/OKIyzrsVOKw/s200/lyric.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;If you don't have kids you are seriously missing out on hours of entertainment. &amp;nbsp;I, not unlike most moms, believe I have the funniest kid in the world (along with&amp;nbsp;the smartest, most beautiful, nicest, I could go on for hours). The girls and I drove through McDonalds for some grub this morning and Lyric says to me "Mommy, I love hash brownies from McDonalds". Hopefully if this is repeated in public people will know she is referring to the delicious, fried potato dish McDonalds serves alongside their breakfast meals and not the illegal variety, but either way it had me laughing. It also reminded me of a mispronunciation my best friend, Jeanine's son used to have when he was younger. When talking about cotton &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S320GFcPEAI/AAAAAAAAAFw/0orVkV5zSVY/s1600-h/lyricfeet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S320GFcPEAI/AAAAAAAAAFw/0orVkV5zSVY/s200/lyricfeet.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;balls he would say c____ and balls (in order to stay work safe I'll let you all fill in the blanks!).&amp;nbsp; Of course, being the mothers of the year that we are, we would have him say cotton balls repeatedly and then continue to laugh our a$$es off. Poor Jake, he probably could never figure out why we thought plain old balls of cotton were so hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;I'm dressing this post up with some self portraits Lyric has taken on my iPhone (I believe they are fitting). Generally when my phone disappears by the time I find it again my camera roll is filled with close ups of her mug and 700 shots of her feet in various poses all over the house, enjoy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S320kPX4ZxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/2eHPPTuVdS4/s1600-h/lryci.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S320kPX4ZxI/AAAAAAAAAF4/2eHPPTuVdS4/s320/lryci.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S320txt4bZI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Uo7RTidcRE4/s1600-h/lryicfeet3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S320txt4bZI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Uo7RTidcRE4/s320/lryicfeet3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-7651162207280774011?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/7651162207280774011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=7651162207280774011&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/7651162207280774011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/7651162207280774011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-kid-is-hilarious.html' title='My kid is hilarious'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S320Ajpar3I/AAAAAAAAAFo/OKIyzrsVOKw/s72-c/lyric.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-472389661896610033</id><published>2010-02-16T20:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T20:26:54.085-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Olympics</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3tFxLrWs7I/AAAAAAAAAFg/8y3JZ67M9kY/s1600-h/2010+Olympic+Mascot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="140" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3tFxLrWs7I/AAAAAAAAAFg/8y3JZ67M9kY/s200/2010+Olympic+Mascot.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My husband likes to bring my patriotism into question, but I really just can’t get into the Olympics. I have never been able to watch sports on TV, but even the opening ceremonies, I just had no desire. Now I’m certainly not putting down the Olympics or defending my taste in television (how could I with a DVR filled with hours of mind numbing reality shows) but this year, I choose not to participate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do however enjoy the mascots and the online debate they have sparked. Personally I think they are cute, and characters kids can enjoy, however, some netters find them offensive. As with most creative outputs, you can’t please them all. At the end of the day, despite the naysayers, I’m sure Vancouver will sell plenty of branded memorabilia and Sumi, Quatchi and Miga will have done their job well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-472389661896610033?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/472389661896610033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=472389661896610033&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/472389661896610033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/472389661896610033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/02/olympics.html' title='Olympics'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3tFxLrWs7I/AAAAAAAAAFg/8y3JZ67M9kY/s72-c/2010+Olympic+Mascot.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-5390654114114961135</id><published>2010-02-16T00:16:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T16:46:01.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bitter.... party of, too many...</title><content type='html'>First I would like to say Happy 5th&amp;nbsp;Birthday to my big girl, Lyric.&amp;nbsp; I wish I could bottle up my girl's childhoods and save them forever.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Time passes by way too fast and it is bittersweet in so many different ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3ojeLxNyXI/AAAAAAAAAFI/v1blPKG0sls/s1600-h/marieandstefan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="162" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3ojeLxNyXI/AAAAAAAAAFI/v1blPKG0sls/s200/marieandstefan.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The other big event this weekend was Valentine's Day. If you look to the left I have posted a pic of me and hubby in honor of this day of love. Lyric went to Disney on Ice with Auntie Laura and Braelynn had a sleepover at Grandma's, so we actually got a kid free night out! In addition to flowers, a dinner and card I also was given the gift of finally being able to squeeze into my pre-prego jeans, a night of win all around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My random thoughts on Valentine's Day:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3okD1k8-9I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/5-25yL0TuE4/s1600-h/cupid-valentines-day1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="137" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3okD1k8-9I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/5-25yL0TuE4/s200/cupid-valentines-day1.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3oqE9eh6qI/AAAAAAAAAFY/st5O4qZQ1gw/s1600-h/eeyore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3oqE9eh6qI/AAAAAAAAAFY/st5O4qZQ1gw/s200/eeyore.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There are two different types of people that present themselves on Valentine's Day: the Happys and the Bitters. The Happys fill their day with candy hearts, silly stuffed animals, sparkly jewelry and overly sweet Hallmark cards. There are both&amp;nbsp;single and committed Happys, this group is just, well, happy.&amp;nbsp; They want to celebrate love whether it be a significant other, parent, child or whomever. Now&amp;nbsp;the other group is the group that generally I try to avoid especially on days such as Valentine's Day, the Bitters. The Bitters hate everything about the evil, evil holiday that is Valentine's Day, and they will tell anyone who will listen how they feel. Not only are they miserable and unhappy, but they want you to be miserable and unhappy too. Why should they be all alone with their agony? What this desolate group doesn't get is that their gloomy attitude is what is keeping them from getting the exact thing that is making them depressed in the first place. Who wants to be with an Eeyore? The answer, no one! So ladies, enough with the man bashing, find happiness within yourself and everything else will fall into place. If you are happy and confident and not trying so hard to hunt and devour love, love will find you and you will be ready to accept it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-5390654114114961135?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/5390654114114961135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=5390654114114961135&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5390654114114961135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5390654114114961135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/02/bitter-party-of-too-many.html' title='Bitter.... party of, too many...'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3ojeLxNyXI/AAAAAAAAAFI/v1blPKG0sls/s72-c/marieandstefan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-5728536365241016832</id><published>2010-02-11T12:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T00:31:58.914-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It seems as if...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3Q7oZ42W3I/AAAAAAAAAFA/GgRPM7WStGw/s1600-h/icicles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3Q7oZ42W3I/AAAAAAAAAFA/GgRPM7WStGw/s320/icicles.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We are never getting out of here!&amp;nbsp; We woke up to&amp;nbsp;a nice surprise left by the plows, a 7ft wall of snow across the entire bottom half of our driveway.&amp;nbsp; All that shoveling for nothing.&amp;nbsp; Supplies are running low, panic will set in soon!&amp;nbsp; (The picture to the left is the view from our porch, if you look past the monster icicles you see a car driving past, notice the snow pile as high as the car, that is our driveway.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-5728536365241016832?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/5728536365241016832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=5728536365241016832&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5728536365241016832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5728536365241016832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/02/it-seems-as-if.html' title='It seems as if...'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3Q7oZ42W3I/AAAAAAAAAFA/GgRPM7WStGw/s72-c/icicles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-7843978994457957486</id><published>2010-02-10T23:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T00:03:52.907-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowmageddon, SnOMG, Snowpocalypse and we all go a lil cra cra</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3OBEhvoxxI/AAAAAAAAAEo/u1QWGZTqDVM/s1600-h/chasey+snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="133" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3OBEhvoxxI/AAAAAAAAAEo/u1QWGZTqDVM/s200/chasey+snow.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;We are currently on day 8 of being snowed in and everyone is starting to show signs of cabin fever.&amp;nbsp; The first to go was Lyric, of course.&amp;nbsp; The fever presented itself as random outbursts of&amp;nbsp;lap running around the downstairs with Diego in tow (not annoying at all).&amp;nbsp; The first round of SnOMG (which is, btw my favorite storm pet name so that's the one I'm going with) we totaled about 30", the second round was today and along with the snow was hurricane like wind.&amp;nbsp; I'm thinking we got maybe &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3ODBcGKqWI/AAAAAAAAAE4/l7YMnaTMfBQ/s1600-h/grill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3ODBcGKqWI/AAAAAAAAAE4/l7YMnaTMfBQ/s200/grill.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;another foot, but it is hard to tell.&amp;nbsp; There are snow drifts as tall as Stefan.&amp;nbsp; It looks cold and uninviting, I have yet to step outside and experience it first hand, and I'm just fine with that.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stefan's office has been closed all week so he has been filling his days with shoveling the driveway.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think it has all been a bit overwhelming for my poor southern husband.&amp;nbsp; Being from Mississippi this is more snow than he ever imagined possible, he has gone through various stages of shock, awe,&amp;nbsp;excitement and after logging about 16 hours of shovel time, hate.&amp;nbsp; He was however,&amp;nbsp;able to take a break from the driveway long enough to dig out the grill and cook some nice steaks to enjoy while watching the Super Bowl, yum.&amp;nbsp; My car has been at the doctor's for two weeks, a three year old car apparently can have thousands of dollars worth of items that need fixing, thank goodness for warranties!&amp;nbsp; It is finally done, so my hope is that&amp;nbsp;the big dig will be completed by&amp;nbsp;Friday, we can go get my car, therefore I will have my freedom back and all will be right with the world again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3OC_vI4iUI/AAAAAAAAAEw/_-cpMEi01HM/s1600-h/lyric+goggles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ct="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3OC_vI4iUI/AAAAAAAAAEw/_-cpMEi01HM/s320/lyric+goggles.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-7843978994457957486?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/7843978994457957486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=7843978994457957486&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/7843978994457957486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/7843978994457957486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/02/snowmageddon-snomg-snowpocalypse-and-we.html' title='Snowmageddon, SnOMG, Snowpocalypse and we all go a lil cra cra'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S3OBEhvoxxI/AAAAAAAAAEo/u1QWGZTqDVM/s72-c/chasey+snow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-1411196290929899414</id><published>2010-01-30T13:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T13:14:45.997-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mysterious Mystery of the Disappearing Neighbor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S2RzjZyF2sI/AAAAAAAAAEg/vaF4hOoIpNM/s1600-h/neighbors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S2RzjZyF2sI/AAAAAAAAAEg/vaF4hOoIpNM/s320/neighbors.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Stefan and I only have one neighbor, besides that we are surrounded by farmers markets, wineries and farms. We aren't extremely close to our neighbor; however it was nice knowing that there was someone else there. Imagine our disappointment when we came home from our Thanksgiving trip to find the neighbor's house abandoned. There was a pile of stuff left in the yard, but besides that nothing seemed changed. (A picture of the stuff is to the left it is sitting next to the tree. It is snowing and cold outside so forgive the poor quality as it is taken from my kitchen). We never saw a for sale or rent sign in front of the house so naturally we were confused. One of our favorite pastimes became making up stories about the neighbors and what became of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Al stopped by yesterday to bring us some fresh eggs from his farm (Mr. Al is our land lord and since his farmer's market is closed for the winter he has eggs for days). He was finally able to solve the mystery of the disappearing neighbor. Here's what happened. Our neighbor was having an issue with his oil heater (apparently I'm not the only one engaging in a war against one of these things). He tried to fix it himself but Mr. Al says he breaks everything he touches and this was no exception. I didn't really absorb all the specifics but somehow oil ended up leaking out and he didn't re-attach something properly, so it continued to leak out. The oil caught fire and here is where the story gets odd. There is smoke in the house and neighbor and his wife decide to go to bed. He wakes up the next morning and before heading to work he calls an oil heater repair man, because smoke is now filling the entire house. Most people would call the fire department or 9-1-1 at this point, but not our neighbor, he decides to go to work! The oil repair man got to the house and opened the door to the basement, the entire basement floor was on fire, and looked like it had been that way all night! He immediately called the fire department and they were able to put the fire out, there is a lot of damage to the plumbing and wiring but besides that the house is fine. And our mystery was solved, the neighbor didn't disappear, it just turns out he is a bit dense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-1411196290929899414?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1411196290929899414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=1411196290929899414&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1411196290929899414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1411196290929899414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/mysterious-mystery-of-disappearing.html' title='The Mysterious Mystery of the Disappearing Neighbor'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S2RzjZyF2sI/AAAAAAAAAEg/vaF4hOoIpNM/s72-c/neighbors.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-1399247273598769017</id><published>2010-01-28T21:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T21:35:01.452-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids say the darndest things...</title><content type='html'>Lyric got to meet Braelynn finally and she didn't put her down for hours, she is completely in love. After she finished ooing and awwing at her new baby sister she took one look at me and said "Mommy! If Braelynn is out of your belly why do you still look pregnant?!?" Hahahaha she will be the best motivation when I'm finally able to work out again, guaranteed honest feedback. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-1399247273598769017?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1399247273598769017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=1399247273598769017&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1399247273598769017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1399247273598769017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/kids-say-darndest-things.html' title='Kids say the darndest things...'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-4414640617348168692</id><published>2010-01-27T07:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T07:15:09.499-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Braelynn's Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S18JJ7dL9aI/AAAAAAAAAEY/-UJ58xyCNxY/s1600-h/braelynn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" mt="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S18JJ7dL9aI/AAAAAAAAAEY/-UJ58xyCNxY/s320/braelynn.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Braelynn decided to surprise us and make an early entrance Monday. I am beyond in love, she is perfect. I can't believe how lucky I am to have two beautiful daughters and a wonderful husband :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Her stats:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weight: 5 lbs 6 oz&lt;br /&gt;Length: 18 inches&lt;br /&gt;Birthday: 1/25/10 5:47 pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And here's how it happened:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:00 am: Lyric and I get up and head over to Reston Hospital to get a bio physical ultra sound exam. After the exam we head home and are back to the house by 2. Lyric heads upstairs to play dress up, I hit the couch for a nap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:30 pm: I get a call from my Dr.'s office. They told me to head to labor and delivery right away for monitoring and a possible c-section tonight. I asked if I could wait for my husband and was told no, go straight there. They also told me to bring Lyric with me and not wait around for a sitter. The urgency had me a bit worried. Lyric was great, she got ready and helped me get ready fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:30 I parked my car and was walking to the front of the building and by some miracle everyone arrived at the hospital at the exact same time, Stefan appeared from one direction and my mom from the other. We said our goodbyes to Lyric and headed upstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:00 By this time I was in a room, registered and hooked up to the monitor. I figured that they would do some monitoring over night so we settled in and got comfortable. (I should have known better). A few minutes later my doctor (Dr. Wilson). came in and said the fluids were dangerously low and she needed to deliver right then. Before I had time to absorb that info a nurse was in the room putting an IV in my left arm and the anesthesiologist was at the end of my bed reviewing the details of my epidural. My head was spinning, I started sweating and a billion thoughts/fears/prayers went shooting through my head. I heard Stefan laughing and looked down to see blood flying out of my IV and all over the bed and the nurse franticly trying to fix it (she was a noob), it was taking everything in me just to concentrate on what the anesthesiologist was saying so I decided to file the IV incident away and react later (Stefan and I had a good laugh about it post-Braelynn). Everyone finished their task at hand and the room was suddenly very quiet. Stefan and I had a few moments alone, the calm before the storm. He was able to talk me down off the ledge and get me calm and ready to have this baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:30 Next thing I knew, I was walking down to the c-section room, I felt like a prisoner being led down death row. First things first, the epidural. Once that was in (and it wasn't so bad at all) Stefan was brought back in, the tent was put up and Dr. Wilson got to work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:57 I saw Braelynn for the first time, she was blue, tiny and so beautiful. They assured me the she was healthy and then I heard her cry, the best sound in the world I was overcome with emotion and tears were streaming down my face. I fell head over heels in love with her and my heart felt like it would burst. She got a little bit of oxygen to help her color, but they were soon able to bring her over to me and while they finished up the c-section, I got to hold her; Kent, the anesthesiologist was even nice enough to take a ton of pictures of Stefan, Braelynn and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a 1/2 hour later they finished up the surgery. Turns out I only had about 2 table spoons of fluid left and had she stayed in a day longer things could have taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Thank God my doctor made the right decision and Braelynn made a safe journey into this world. After the surgery I was taken to recovery and Braelynn went to the NICU with Stefan. Stefan got her settled and then came back to help nurse me. My recovery was uneventful and on the way up to my room I was able to stop in the NICU and spend some time with Braelynn. They kept her for a few hours due to low sugar levels, but those cleared right up and the three of us spent our first night together getting acquainted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-4414640617348168692?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4414640617348168692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=4414640617348168692&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/4414640617348168692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/4414640617348168692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/braelynns-birthday.html' title='Braelynn&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S18JJ7dL9aI/AAAAAAAAAEY/-UJ58xyCNxY/s72-c/braelynn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-5181511291736490982</id><published>2010-01-23T17:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T17:08:28.324-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dos and Don'ts of  dining out with your kids</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S1tt-Wut5oI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/lrv2YGUXwiY/s1600-h/why+are+they+calling+me+mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" mt="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S1tt-Wut5oI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/lrv2YGUXwiY/s320/why+are+they+calling+me+mom.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My inspiration for this post comes from a meal Lyric and I shared at McDonalds recently. Now I know McDonalds is not the epitome of class and fine dining, but it is still a public place and people are still trying to enjoy their meals. Lyric and I stopped at McDonalds the other day to kill some time before my doctor appointment (and to enjoy a nice large fry and cheeseburger, I won't be able to indulge much longer!) It was 11 so we were literally the only people in the entire restaurant. We settled in to a booth in the back and had a very serious discussion about how doctors tell what kind of baby you are having (boy v. girl), followed by a very informative lecture from Lyric on the differences between boys (they have penises) and girls (who of course have vaginas). I was enjoying our talk (and learning so much) when all of the sudden a mom and her very obnoxious child sat in the booth directly behind us. Looking around the restaurant I noticed that there were 15 open booths/tables, FIFTEEN! Her son then continued to hang over the back of the booth screaming in my ear, drinking his juice and spilling it on my seat and then, the clincher for me, coughed all over me, I could feel his spit hitting my back! Not once did this mom ask her son to turn around, not once did she ask him to stop screaming. So I asked myself, why did they choose to sit at the booth next to the only people in the entire place? and why did she not think it necessary to try and discipline her son? Was she really that rude or just oblivious to the fact that her and her child may be the source of discomfort to those around her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid that the answer may be the fact that there are people out there that just don't get it, they see their children with nothing but love and could not possibly imagine that others would not view their children in the same light. Well for those of you who just don't get it, below are some tips for dining out with you children. If there is ever any doubt the answer is, yes, your children are annoying to those around you and no, it is not ok for them to be out of control in public, and yes it is your responsibility to either get them under control or to leave the area so that those around you may enjoy their meals. I'm sorry, I know it's harsh, but you chose to be a parent and raise kids, your fellow diners did not, don't make them suffer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tip 1: Good table manners start at home. Teach your children how to behave at the table at home and dining out will be much more pleasurable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tip 2: Bring activities, lots of activities. Be prepared for every situation. Do you have an iPhone? Then download games, this can provide hours of entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tip 3: Ask the waiter to bring your child's dinner as soon as it's ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tip 4: Be firm and recognize bad behavior. Ignoring it will just make it worse, let your kid know that whatever they are doing is not acceptable and will not be tolerated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tip 5: Abort. If your child is not getting it together and they are continuing to make a scene leave the restaurant, it will make you and those around you much happier. There will be plenty of nights in the future for you to eat out, don't try to suffer through a horrible experience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-5181511291736490982?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/5181511291736490982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=5181511291736490982&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5181511291736490982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5181511291736490982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/dos-and-donts-of-dining-out-with-your.html' title='Dos and Don&apos;ts of  dining out with your kids'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S1tt-Wut5oI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/lrv2YGUXwiY/s72-c/why+are+they+calling+me+mom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-6920018013283164742</id><published>2010-01-22T14:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T14:21:10.275-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm having a baby in 9 days!</title><content type='html'>Well Braelynn decided to give me a little excitement yesterday. I went in for my ultra sound to check her size and fluid levels in order to get the ok to move forward with the turning next week. Thank goodness I went in because they learned that her fluid levels are scary low, she also has the cord wrapped around her neck! My doctor called immediately and let me know that we will not be doing the turning and my situation could be potentially dangerous. I was given strict orders to not leave the couch for the next 10 days except to go in for my medical tests. Monday I have a bio physical test, Thursday another NST, Friday pre-op apt. and then, drum roll please...... Monday February 1st, Braelynn will be making her way into the world (via c-section)!!! After having a good long cry to Stefan about having a c-section and learning that there was a problem, it began to sink in how close I am to meeting her! Of course there is also the annoying fact that now my nesting has kicked in at over drive but there is not a thing I can do about it! I just have to sit here and watch the dust build up on the shelves and TV stand in front of me, and the husky hair swirl around the wall panel (this must be what hell is like).&amp;nbsp; Lyric and I also had an interesting visit to the fine dining establishment McDonalds, more on that later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-6920018013283164742?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/6920018013283164742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=6920018013283164742&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/6920018013283164742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/6920018013283164742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/im-having-baby-in-9-days.html' title='I&apos;m having a baby in 9 days!'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-1549325273807422651</id><published>2010-01-19T14:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T14:44:11.978-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Settling in...</title><content type='html'>I'm wrapping up my first week as a SAHM, now that the dust has settled and the shock of not having a job to go to every day has passed, I'm in a great place. My to-do list is a mile long and I am in complete shock that I was able to manage all this and a career. A big pat on my back for that :). I have completely organized my house, my life, my family and am loving the extra time I get to spend with Lyric. Oh and being married, that is just the best thing in the entire world!&lt;br /&gt;The job market is looking great and there are so many exciting opportunities out there. It was hard to see that the grass could be greener, but apparently it can be!&lt;br /&gt;I have an appointment tomorrow to see if stubborn Braelynn has turned and what our options are if she hasn't. I can still feel her head above my belly button, so as far as I can tell she is as stubborn as her daddy, but will have the ultra sound tomorrow for complete confirmation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to send a virtual thank you to all my friends and family, they have been more than amazing the last week and have shown me how blessed I really am. Sometimes when bad things happen in our lives it’s hard to see how lucky we really are, but they have shown me that no matter what, my life is so full, I couldn't ask for anything more :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-1549325273807422651?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1549325273807422651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=1549325273807422651&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1549325273807422651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1549325273807422651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/settling-in.html' title='Settling in...'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-1961984512679197955</id><published>2010-01-15T06:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T06:19:06.013-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I like to do things all at once, it's more fun that way</title><content type='html'>A very exciting and eventful week this week for us. I was recently laid off from my job (more on this later), and today I'm getting MARRIED!!! Our original wedding was schedule for June 26, but due to A we ended up with B. We are doing a very intimate (another word for small, cheap and quick) ceremony at our house. Having both already done the big traditional thing, this is really the way we both prefer. I am so excited for tonight! Also, tomorrow is our baby party for Braelynn, so lots of celebrating going on :)&lt;br /&gt;Now back to the not so fun news. AOL recently let go of 2,500 employees, I have been there for five years lived through 24 layoffs so clearly the statistics were against me, and it was my time to be cut. Am I upset about losing my job, well no not so much, am I upset about the timing of it all, yeah I'd say being 9 months pregnant and not really able to interview it a bit upsetting. I had been unhappy with the position I was moved into a few months back and knew it was time to make a change; I was just hoping I could get through my pregnancy. At the end of the day everything happens for a reason and I am looking forward to seeing where I end up and what my next adventure will be! For now though I am settling into my new role as a stay at home mom (I pulled Lyric out of pre-school so she will be home with me). I'm not sure if my new job will make my posts more interesting, but I do know for sure that I will have a lot more time to make them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave you with a shameless plug: If you or someone you know is looking for a creative marketing leader in the DC area, I have over seven years experience with a heavy emphasis in online advertising, email me for my resume!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-1961984512679197955?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1961984512679197955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=1961984512679197955&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1961984512679197955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1961984512679197955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-like-to-do-things-all-at-once-its.html' title='I like to do things all at once, it&apos;s more fun that way'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-5123708689681632512</id><published>2010-01-06T10:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T11:50:44.779-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss Manners' Guide to the Internet</title><content type='html'>I love the internet, it's how I make my living, I find entertainment on it, I use it to socialize, I couldn't imagine my life without it. But the internet can also be an evil, unforgiving place. We have all been online for a long time,&amp;nbsp;so there really is no excuse, but for some reason there are still people out there that don't seem to really "get" how to properly use the internet. They get on a keyboard and all class seems to fly right out the window, and don't get me started on drunk netting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that makes me cringe is Virtual Bragging. Yes the rise of social networking has made it much easier to re-connect with old friends/classmates and keep in touch with current friends, co-workers and acquaintances, but does that mean that you need to prove yourself via your Facebook page? IMO no, but some I suppose would disagree (or at least according to their statuses). Now don't get me wrong, I think that some virtual bragging is absolutely wonderful. Did you have a baby? Get a new job? Engaged? Buy a house? If so then brag away, because that is great news and I want to hear it. But do I need to know how much you spent on your new house? Or how much dough you'll be raking in at your new job? Absolutely not, keep that tackiness to yourself TYVM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Break ups and fights with significant others seem to be the events that send otherwise respectable people over to the dark side. I would like to send a PSA out to all my virtual friends, please stop airing your grievances via your Facebook, Twitter and other new media vehicles. Bashing someone on the internet is not ok, it is just tacky and at the end of the day you end up looking a fool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a thin line when it comes to sharing on the internet, and I fear as more and more people increase their tech savvyness, the number of people crossing the line into bad netting is just going to get out of control.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-5123708689681632512?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/5123708689681632512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=5123708689681632512&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5123708689681632512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5123708689681632512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/miss-manners-guide-to-internet.html' title='Miss Manners&apos; Guide to the Internet'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-3987395097563257212</id><published>2010-01-05T14:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T14:21:25.425-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Braelynn's 33 week check up</title><content type='html'>Braelynn is doing great. I now weigh in at a whopping 170 pounds, yep def. a buffalo! The only issue right now is that Braelynn and I are in a stubborn off and she is the current winner, she is breech and quite comfortable in that position. In two weeks I go in for my regular check up and an ultra sound to check on her position one more time. I think the chances of her turning are slim, being that she hasn't moved in about a month and a half. After the ultra sound I have two choices, schedule a C-section or schedule a turning. I am going to do everything possible NOT to have a C-section so turning it is. Apparently it is a very painful procedure and could break my water or force an emergency C-section so Stefan will be there. I put an SOS out to all my mommy friends and have tons of exercises/stretches etc. to try and naturally get her spinning.. Fingers crossed, I really just can't believe she will be here soon. I can't wait to meet her!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-3987395097563257212?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/3987395097563257212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=3987395097563257212&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/3987395097563257212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/3987395097563257212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/braelynns-33-week-check-up.html' title='Braelynn&apos;s 33 week check up'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-6035981665626372196</id><published>2010-01-04T09:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T09:55:10.699-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Labor, it's like riding a bike right?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S0H_MyLAmKI/AAAAAAAAAEI/8O_rkr6uLFU/s1600-h/31+weeks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S0H_MyLAmKI/AAAAAAAAAEI/8O_rkr6uLFU/s200/31+weeks.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I'm four weeks away from being full term and more than ready to have this baby and be done with pregnancy. I've heard women say how much they LOVE being pregnant and it is&amp;nbsp;just the greatest thing in the world. I don't get it? I love the fact that I'm about to have another child, but since when do people love something that makes them fatter than a buffalo, completely uncomfortable, and sick? Not to mention the fact that you are essentially grounded for the entire pregnancy since you aren't allowed to do anything fun, and your too tired to do the things you are allowed to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, as I get closer to the date, again thank GOD, I am starting to get a bit nervous about the actual labor part. With Lyric, my water broke before I ever had a contraction. So if my water doesn't break will I be able to tell I'm in labor? More importantly will I be able to tell soon enough to get to the hospital and receive drugs, lots of drugs? Also, I've never taken a birthing class or anything like that; will my body know what to do? It did the last time but I don't really remember much of the last time (probably due to the drugs, lots of drugs). Either way I'm more than ready to get this baby out of me, enjoy a nice vanilla stoli and diet, and meet my lil girl (not necessarily in that order ;) )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-6035981665626372196?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/6035981665626372196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=6035981665626372196&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/6035981665626372196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/6035981665626372196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2010/01/labor-its-like-riding-bike-right.html' title='Labor, it&apos;s like riding a bike right?'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/S0H_MyLAmKI/AAAAAAAAAEI/8O_rkr6uLFU/s72-c/31+weeks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-6189119519370409687</id><published>2009-12-30T10:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T10:18:07.031-05:00</updated><title type='text'>post script oil update</title><content type='html'>Quarles was on time and we got our tank filled yesterday!&amp;nbsp; I had our annual girls Christmas dinner at my lovely friend Kara's house, so I was about an hour away from home when I got a text from Stefan.&amp;nbsp; Electricity went out.&amp;nbsp; Just when the radiators had gotten nice and warm and began the process of heating the house... bam!&amp;nbsp; Poor Stefan was at home with no working electronics (which I think may have been the end of the world for him, he can certainly power through the cold, but no lap top GASP!)&amp;nbsp; To pass the time Stefan prepared a&amp;nbsp;cozy romantic fire for him and the dogs and took a nap in our fireplace room, not too bad.&amp;nbsp; The fine folks at VA Dominion were able to restore power by 9 and by the time I got home around midnight the house was nice and warm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-6189119519370409687?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/6189119519370409687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=6189119519370409687&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/6189119519370409687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/6189119519370409687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/post-script-oil-update.html' title='post script oil update'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-5368008375234517006</id><published>2009-12-28T09:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T09:04:53.769-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oil Heater 3, Me 0</title><content type='html'>I'm going to back this story up a bit in order to give you a better understanding of the war that is currently raging between me and my oil heater. Back in October it got cold and my procrastination got the best of me. We found ourselves with no heat, and the house was about 48 degrees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Battle #1, Winner: Oil Heater&lt;br /&gt;There are two companies that deliver oil in our area Quarles and Petro. I called both and Quarles was not able to make a delivery for two weeks, but Petro said they could come out in two days. Well three scheduled deliveries missed later (and three very cold weeks) Petro finally realized they actually don't service our house, and this is why the truck was never stopping to deliver the oil. We did get a few emergency deliveries scattered within those three weeks giving us a few days of heat, but it was more of a tease than anything. By the time they realized their mistake we had all had it, Lyric's room was about 38 degrees and she had moved into our room. We were all walking around with space heaters, not fun. I finally called Quarles and they were able to successfully fill our tank, ahhhh heat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Battle #2, Winner: Oil Heater&lt;br /&gt;About three weeks ago we started to smell this gas like smell, it started out as just a hint in the air and then one day we came home to a smell that would burn the hair off your nostrils. (I guess there is a theme forming with this new house, Yankee candles are a must). Stefan went to check the oil heater and yep, we had a leak. I walked downstairs to see a puddle of oil forming around the heater. Actually what I saw was dollar bills just seeping out of my new enemy. Mr. Al saved the day and was able to get someone in right away so at least the problem was solved, for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Battle #3, Winner: Oil Heater&lt;br /&gt;That brings us to today, foiled again! I called last week to schedule our re-fill delivery (I really thought I was on the ball this time). Nope woke up this morning with no heat, we have run out of oil :(. So far the house is maintaining its heat, and the delivery should come Wed, but the oil heater always seems to find a way of defeating me, so we may be moving into mom's house while we impatiently await our oil delivery!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-5368008375234517006?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/5368008375234517006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=5368008375234517006&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5368008375234517006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5368008375234517006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/oil-heater-3-me-0.html' title='Oil Heater 3, Me 0'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-8442119943160859211</id><published>2009-12-27T17:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T17:55:26.472-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We survived Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/Szflg_JbwxI/AAAAAAAAAD4/7HhgqiCRUpo/s1600-h/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/Szflg_JbwxI/AAAAAAAAAD4/7HhgqiCRUpo/s200/photo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SzflmR56GaI/AAAAAAAAAEA/wcOb0nN6wg0/s1600-h/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SzflmR56GaI/AAAAAAAAAEA/wcOb0nN6wg0/s200/photo+4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Christmas is over and all the presents have been unwrapped.&amp;nbsp; Santa was very good to all in our house this year, we feel very blessed.&amp;nbsp; I got my Nikon DS3000 and&amp;nbsp;am trying to make&amp;nbsp;my way through several digital photography how to books.&amp;nbsp; Lyric got an art table, jeep and lots of other things, she was pleased.&amp;nbsp; It helps to be nesting during/after Christmas, by 9:00 all the presents were opened, by 10:00 the entire house was cleaned and new stuff put away in its proper spot!&amp;nbsp; Lyric is at her Grammy and Umpa's house for the week and I miss her already!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Although, it will probably&amp;nbsp; be our last&amp;nbsp;kid free week for&amp;nbsp;quite a while so we are trying to take advantage&amp;nbsp;of some peace and quiet.&amp;nbsp; I even went out to&amp;nbsp;the bar last night and stayed until&amp;nbsp;1 am!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Now that NOVA&amp;nbsp; bars are smoke free, giant pregnant women don't get too many sideways glances trying to enjoy a drink free night out. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-8442119943160859211?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/8442119943160859211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=8442119943160859211&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/8442119943160859211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/8442119943160859211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-is-over-and-all-presents-have.html' title='We survived Christmas'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/Szflg_JbwxI/AAAAAAAAAD4/7HhgqiCRUpo/s72-c/photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-1508191415173683530</id><published>2009-12-23T09:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T09:30:26.349-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mullets are the new black</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SzInyg20ZwI/AAAAAAAAADg/rovitqN8B5k/s1600-h/lyricsmullet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SzInyg20ZwI/AAAAAAAAADg/rovitqN8B5k/s200/lyricsmullet.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I woke up this morning to a nice early Christmas present, Lyric decided to give herself a haircut.&amp;nbsp; For those who don't know, I am very particular about her hair.&amp;nbsp; To give you an idea it is in my divorce settlement that no one is to cut her hair without written permission from me.&amp;nbsp; She had the most beautiful curls that are now transformed into a horrible, horrible mullet, waaaahhhh :'(.&amp;nbsp; Stefan suggested that I chop off the rest of her hair to teach her a lesson.&amp;nbsp; She was acting like the whole thing was no big deal until I told her that was what I was going to do, so I guess it is the one thing that will really get through to her.&amp;nbsp; I really hate punishments that punish me as much as they punish her.&amp;nbsp; I'm trying to get up the nerve to drive her to the salon and get the mullet fixed.&amp;nbsp; We'll see how it turns out!&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/410670481210493637-1508191415173683530?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1508191415173683530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=1508191415173683530&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1508191415173683530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1508191415173683530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/mullets-are-new-black.html' title='Mullets are the new black'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SzInyg20ZwI/AAAAAAAAADg/rovitqN8B5k/s72-c/lyricsmullet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-8055141152882617551</id><published>2009-12-21T18:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T18:28:16.664-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If you decide to drive after it snows....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SzAESBXl1TI/AAAAAAAAADY/31dNRNav0ac/s1600-h/car+w+snow+on+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SzAESBXl1TI/AAAAAAAAADY/31dNRNav0ac/s320/car+w+snow+on+top.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Clean the flippin' snow of the top of your car!&amp;nbsp; As much fun as it is to dodge the clumps of snow flying back onto my windshield, I would prefer not to risk my life due to your laziness.&amp;nbsp; TYVM.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-8055141152882617551?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/8055141152882617551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=8055141152882617551&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/8055141152882617551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/8055141152882617551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/if-you-decide-to-drive-after-it-snows.html' title='If you decide to drive after it snows....'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SzAESBXl1TI/AAAAAAAAADY/31dNRNav0ac/s72-c/car+w+snow+on+top.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-3374636290910177038</id><published>2009-12-21T11:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T11:29:57.658-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blizzard of 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/Sy-iGIisQaI/AAAAAAAAADQ/HzvlZOxRtvU/s1600-h/Blizzard+of+09.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/Sy-iGIisQaI/AAAAAAAAADQ/HzvlZOxRtvU/s200/Blizzard+of+09.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This weekend we had record breaking snow fall, about 24 inches!&amp;nbsp; I must admit that watching the snow accumulate Friday night sparked a little excitement in me, however waking up Saturday morning and realizing all the to dos I had put off killed all excitement.&amp;nbsp; My car will not be moving for a while due to the fact that&amp;nbsp; there is currently about 2 feet of snow on top of it (even after being cleared Sat. morning).&amp;nbsp; The huskies loved the snow and can't get enough of it.&amp;nbsp; Diego isn't a fan, the snow is taller than him making taking care of business a bit difficult.&amp;nbsp; One thing I do love however, is that I have an excuse to make Stefan drive me around to take care of my errands :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-3374636290910177038?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/3374636290910177038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=3374636290910177038&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/3374636290910177038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/3374636290910177038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/blizzard-of-2009.html' title='Blizzard of 2009'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/Sy-iGIisQaI/AAAAAAAAADQ/HzvlZOxRtvU/s72-c/Blizzard+of+09.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-1009145263150633325</id><published>2009-12-18T10:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T10:43:10.507-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some privacy please!</title><content type='html'>A few things you give up when becoming a mom: energy, an active social life (or at least one that involves bars and such), blowing loads of money on frivolous things just for you, making a bowl of cereal for dinner and calling it a day and privacy! My latest invasion from my mini stalker:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My back hurts, my feet are swollen, it is a lazy Sunday afternoon (Lyric is somewhere playing something quietly), perfect opportunity to grab a book and take a nice long hot bath. (Not so much). About 10 minutes into my bath a little monster comes barreling through the door wanting to know what I'm up to. "Ooooo a bath! I want to play!" Next thing I know I have a mermaid Barbie joining me in the tub and a four year old hanging over the side. But apparently that wasn't enough....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lyric "I'm just going to stick my feet in, OK?" *climbs up on the side of the tub feet in MY water"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "umm ok I guess" *continues reading, trying hard to ignore*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course the invasion doesn't stop here.. a few pages later Lyric is in her birthday suit and almost finished with the full bath takeover. She looks up and says to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know mom, there really isn't much room in this bath for two people, you would probably be more comfortable reading on the couch downstairs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Point taken, I retreated, she wins again :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-1009145263150633325?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1009145263150633325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=1009145263150633325&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1009145263150633325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1009145263150633325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/some-privacy-please.html' title='Some privacy please!'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-1554038816829226323</id><published>2009-12-17T14:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T13:44:18.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnancy so far</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvNG2ZMZyI/AAAAAAAAABc/eSuxfet1-SE/s1600-h/First+Trimester.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvNG2ZMZyI/AAAAAAAAABc/eSuxfet1-SE/s400/First+Trimester.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boo Hoos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Terrible headaches (ended up in the ER not fun)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Morning Sickness (Lyric would get so mad / grossed out and slam the door shut so she didn't have to hear)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Soooo tired&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvNMV1oMpI/AAAAAAAAABk/YKq-mYiCu2k/s1600-h/Second+Trimester.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvNMV1oMpI/AAAAAAAAABk/YKq-mYiCu2k/s400/Second+Trimester.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boo Hoos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Restless leg syndrom&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Back pain&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Heart burn&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I miss:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;My jeans&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Vodka&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Smoking (yeah I know, I know)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Energy&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A good nights sleep&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Shaving without issues&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Heels&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Braelynn's Safari Themed&amp;nbsp;Nursery&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyqGZr2H0YI/AAAAAAAAABU/o0PCzuN2i_c/s1600-h/nursery.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyqGZr2H0YI/AAAAAAAAABU/o0PCzuN2i_c/s400/nursery.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&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/410670481210493637-1554038816829226323?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/1554038816829226323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=1554038816829226323&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1554038816829226323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/1554038816829226323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/pregnancy-so-far.html' title='Pregnancy so far'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvNG2ZMZyI/AAAAAAAAABc/eSuxfet1-SE/s72-c/First+Trimester.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-5788647489722276134</id><published>2009-12-17T10:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T10:16:00.467-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Easy recipe that tastes good</title><content type='html'>The thought of cooking every night while pregnant exhausts me so I'm always on the look out for easy recipes that don't leave me standing in front of a stove for an hour.&amp;nbsp; (Plus my family is sick of spaghetti and meat sauce I'm sure) I made one last night that was very yummy so wanted to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you need: box of stove top stuffing, chicken, a can of condensed chicken soup&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pre-heat the oven for 400&lt;br /&gt;Cut the chicken up&lt;br /&gt;Make the stuffing&lt;br /&gt;Pour the can of soup into a glass&amp;nbsp;square pan &lt;br /&gt;Put the chicken and stuffing in&lt;br /&gt;Bake for 30 minutes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Partner with a side of instant mashed potatoes and gravy and enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-5788647489722276134?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/5788647489722276134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=5788647489722276134&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5788647489722276134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/5788647489722276134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/easy-recipe-that-tastes-good.html' title='Easy recipe that tastes good'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-4654930114099709230</id><published>2009-12-16T16:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T15:41:43.302-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hickory, Dickory, Dock....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Moving to an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere (kind of) was always a dream I had, which came to fruition last June. I didn't realize how reliant I was on modern technology until getting settled. (I had a hint when my sister took one look at pics of the new place and started laughing at the thought of me living in a place with no central air, but I shrugged it off as usual). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Anyways the lack of dishwasher, central air, abundance of bugs, and issues with the oil heat tank, all of these I could deal with just fine. But the latest charm has just about sent me over the deep end. Our new roomies, the mice family. I am generally good with creepy crawlies and such, but the thought of a mouse jumping out at me was just too much to bare. Not to mention the fact that they took up residence in our bedroom, making late night appearances waking me up with their squeaking and shuffling. Stefan was told to get rid of the mice, no matter what it took (estimates were at about 5 - 7). He put out poison like a good obedient fiancé and eventually the late night visits stopped, I was happy. Until about a week ago. Apparently the poison worked and the family of mice is now dead...... in our bedroom wall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I have never smelled anything like it in my entire life. The smell of these mice left my bedroom uninhabitable for a good three days. So now I'm 7 months pregnant (already hormonal and cranky) forced to sleep on the couch. Stefan, like all good captain, decided if the ship was going down, he was going down with it and he stayed in the bedroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I'm now back in the bedroom, but still suffering. I'm not sure when the smell will leave but for now I guess I just have to suck it up and deal with it. I still love my house and it certainly could be worse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SylQcyFDITI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Rz-kGR6I0MU/s1600-h/5740_107848655668_506155668_2322614_1121007_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SylQcyFDITI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Rz-kGR6I0MU/s320/5740_107848655668_506155668_2322614_1121007_n.jpg" /&gt;&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/410670481210493637-4654930114099709230?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/4654930114099709230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=4654930114099709230&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/4654930114099709230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/4654930114099709230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/hickory-dickory-dock.html' title='Hickory, Dickory, Dock....'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SylQcyFDITI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Rz-kGR6I0MU/s72-c/5740_107848655668_506155668_2322614_1121007_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-410670481210493637.post-9109990162054839556</id><published>2009-12-16T15:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T15:56:26.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rewind: What made me, me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;2003: Graduated college, getting married, we're pregnant!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;February 13, 2005: The day that changed my life forever. My booger bear was born:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SylGQmR8hrI/AAAAAAAAAAU/teNDWODCoeQ/s1600-h/100_1131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SylGQmR8hrI/AAAAAAAAAAU/teNDWODCoeQ/s320/100_1131.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Lyric Marie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Flash forward two years, divorced, single, working, mommy in grad school, exhausted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;2007: Moved to Atlanta, it was just Lyric and me.&amp;nbsp; We met new people, I re-discovered myself, life couldn't be better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;2008: Move back to Virginia refreshed and ready to see where life takes us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;2009: Met Stefan, fell in love.&amp;nbsp; ZOMG we're pregnant!&amp;nbsp; Life happens for a reason and all those silly cliches, we've had our ups and downs, mistakes and wins, at the end of the day I know I am right where I'm supposed to be, finally!&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;That brings us to today.&amp;nbsp; Living in an old farmhouse in Leesburg, three dogs one 4 year old, and an amazing&amp;nbsp;5 year old&amp;nbsp;soon to be&amp;nbsp;step son Austin&amp;nbsp;in MS and our little monkey Braelynn on the way (due February 21, 2010). We have put the work into building our chaotic, awesome, fun, fantastic&amp;nbsp;family and I am so excited every day to see what new adventures will be thrown my way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/410670481210493637-9109990162054839556?l=spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/feeds/9109990162054839556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=410670481210493637&amp;postID=9109990162054839556&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/9109990162054839556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/410670481210493637/posts/default/9109990162054839556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spiltmilkconfessions.blogspot.com/2009/12/rewind-what-made-me-me.html' title='Rewind: What made me, me'/><author><name>~M~</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12796466977019783532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SyvnUasxRAI/AAAAAAAAACw/ODgoGHbWCQI/S220/5.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iP3CB_Px6hw/SylGQmR8hrI/AAAAAAAAAAU/teNDWODCoeQ/s72-c/100_1131.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
